The Girl In The Blue Denim Skirt

Polly wore nylons and a silky nighty to bed and had put on makeup and perfume for their weekly love making session and seemed to be more enthusiastic. Her sudden interest in sex baffled Dennis but he didn't know that Polly had caught him masturbating whilst he watched Tranny Streetwalkers on the night Dennis had spoken to the girl on the wall at Aston Park. She tolerated Dennis's fascination with stockings and tights and knew all about his porn video collection but she was alarmed by his new fascination with tranny porn and tried to make an effort in the bedroom.

But Dennis's compulsion to see the girl in the blue denim skirt would not go away and after a week he was back to taking his shortcut through Aston Park looking for her and he was disappointed if she wasn't there. If she was there she would smile at him and he would wave at her and race home to his copy of Tranny Streetwalkers.

After another lock-in and more Dutch courage he felt emboldened and when the girl in the blue denim skirt beckoned him over, curling her long red fingernails, he went to her. She was sitting on the low brick wall as usual smoking a menthol cigarette.

"Do I scare you?" she asked smiling sweetly at him, her pretty mouth accentuated by her red lipstick.

Dennis studied her face again. There was no doubt that there was something alluringly attractive about her despite the fact that he knew what she was. She was wearing her usual ensemble and his eyes were drawn to the frayed hem of her denim skirt and those long legs. No ladders in her pantyhose tonight; they looked fresh out of packet, cheap mass-produced Tesco pantyhose that for some reason fascinated him.

"Do you like my legs? Most of the punters like my legs. And my arse of course," she startled him a little by hopping down off the wall.

She turned in a circle in front of him illuminated by the dull streetlights and then hopped back on the wall, nestling her buttocks into the bricks to get comfortable.

For the brief moment that she was standing Dennis was able to appraise her. She was tall and statuesque, slim built but she had a nice behind accentuated by the short skirt and he guessed that's why she wore it. Her flaming red hair framed her overly-made-up but intriguing face, she had budding breasts which Dennis guessed were really just the padding in her bra. And of course she had those legs that just went on forever.

Her mannerisms were very feminine and from a few feet away she could easily be mistaken for a real woman; it was only when scrutinised up close that her ruse was revealed.

"Yes and yes," Dennis answered.

"Sorry," she looked puzzled and lit a cigarette.

"Yes you scare me and yes I like your legs," Dennis answered.

She patted the wall beside her and Dennis hopped up, feeling a little lightheaded to be sitting so close to her, inhaling her perfume. The first thought that ran through his mind was: 'what if somebody sees me?' but he knew he was being silly. Who did he know that knew him that would be out walking the streets this late at night, especially in this area?

"Want a fag?" she offered him her packet and he took one and lit it.

"You want to shag me don't you?" the brass said with a whimsical smile on her face.

"Yes and no," Dennis replied, staring at his shoes.

"Yes because you really fancy me and wonder what it would be like to shag a tranny and no because you're worried about regretting it after," she lifted his face and looked him the eyes.

Her eyes were beautiful; deep blue accentuated by her mascara and eyeliner and her lips were full and red and her hair fell around her face just right and Dennis wanted to shag her more than he had ever wanted to shag any other woman.

Dennis nodded.

"Come on then," she spun around on her pert buttocks and dropped down on the other side of the wall.

Dennis caught a glimpse of the satin knickers that matched her brassiere and he wondered what was inside them. Whatever it was she did a good job of hiding it because she flashed him a perfect 'V' with no detectable bulge. If he'd seen the outline of a cock and balls in those knickers he would have made a run for it.

She stuffed her cigarettes in her purse and waited patiently for Dennis to make up his mind.

"How much?" Dennis asked meekly.

She laughed and her dusky voice sounded musical, almost like Bonny Tyler.

"They always ask how much, especially if they're comparing me to the other brasses," she waved a hand at the three other prostitutes leaning against the wall further along the path.

"Well it's a tenner for a blowjob and twenty for a shag but because it's your first time and we are sort of friends I'll let you go for free this time," she was almost laughing as she said it.

"Do I have to wear a rubber?" Dennis blurted out and immediately felt stupid.

By asking her that he'd implied that he was up for it and he was far from convinced that he was going through with it. He really wanted to and was becoming concupiscent just thinking about it, the protuberance in his trousers a visible indication.

"You're married I take it?" she nodded at his left hand where his wedding band gleamed dully on his ring finger.

"And you haven't been with any of the other brasses?" she nodded at the small gaggle of prostitutes further down the path.

They weren't really questions, she was simply stating the obvious but Dennis nodded balefully, a little ashamed of himself.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Up to you luv. I'm freshly douched and I go to the clinic for a check-up every month," she was rummaging in her purse putting her cigarettes away.

*****

"But you went back there," Steven sounded interested in Dennis's tale and seemed in no rush to leave the change room.

Everyone else on their shift had left the premises already but the battering and clanging sounds of the foundry could be heard through the walls of the change room.

Dennis had not revealed to Steven that the girl in the blue denim skirt was a transvestite and he had no intention of admitting it.

"Yeah I went back there. Just to chat her up you know. She seemed like a nice girl despite her occupation and we had this little, I don't know, sort of like a kinship. I'd wave at her and she's smile at me so yeah I stopped and spoke to her again after one of the lock-ins," Dennis was comfortable telling the half-truth.

"So what happened? Did you shag her?" Steven was obviously engrossed in the tale that Dennis was telling.

"I chickened out,' Dennis sighed.

"Oh aye," Steven sighed, a little disappointed that the tale had come to naught.

*****

When the girl told him that she douched and was a regular at the VD clinic Dennis lost his bottle and turned away and strode quickly down the pathway leaving the girl in the blue denim skirt standing on the other side of the wall a little gobsmacked.

"You'll be back," she called after him, her sultry voice ringing in his ears.

And he was.

A week later after another lock-in; this time determined to consummate their relationship.

But she wasn't there and he was bitterly disappointed. He stood next to the wall where she usually sat, a small accumulation of menthol cigarette butts on the grass indicating her presence.

"You looking for a girl luv?" one of the other brasses had seen him and fancied her chances.

Dennis looked up to see a middle-aged woman, plump but pretty, her blonde hair teased, her makeup heavy. She was wearing the obligatory miniskirt and high heels, her legs sheathed in black seamed nylon stockings, the welts of her hosiery on display. She was smiling seductively at him and in different circumstances Dennis would have been tempted.

"No thanks," Dennis replied a little bashful.

"You looking for Charmaine?" the woman's smile suddenly disappeared, replaced by a look of reproach.

Dennis said nothing. He kept his head bowed and studied the white filter-tips in the grass stained by red lipstick.

"Perv!" she hissed and turned away.

"She's shagging some old codger in the shed," she called back at him snarkily.

Dennis sighed. He looked over the low wall to a group of low buildings lit only by a yellow pole light a little distance away. He knew that the prossies sometimes used it for 'knee-tremblers' if the punters didn't have a car. He also knew that he should give up and go home but he had just enough booze inside him to embolden him.

He hopped over the wall and walked slowly over to the buildings belonging to the park's greenkeepers. There was a toolshed, a workshop, a garage for motorised gardening implements and a tiny wooden building they used as a tea room and change room. A faint light was coming from the grime-caked window.

Nervously Dennis crept up to the window and peeked inside. What he saw both shocked and excited him.

The girl in the blue denim skirt was lying on her back on a mattress on a rickety cot. She was fully clothed but her blue denim skirt was hiked up and a man in a brown suit with his trousers down around his ankles was lying between her long legs which were wide open and elevated, her high heels jiggled as the man thrust himself in and out of her.

Dennis could just make out her face in the dim light of table lamp. Her face was blank but she was encouraging the man, her arms around him, rising to meet his thrusts and her beautiful red-lipsticked mouth mewled obscenities into his ear, coaxing him to finish.

Dennis began to shake with rage, jealousy and despondency which he knew was inappropriate. She was a prostitute doing what prostitutes do to earn a living but he couldn't help the way he felt. He felt possessive of her. She was his!

But he couldn't take his eyes off the tableaux and he was becoming engorged.

It was like watching a live-action performance of 'Tranny Street Walkers'. There was a similar scene in the movie where one of the transvestite prostitutes fucked a punter on her back on a mattress in a transit van.

Dennis opened his flies and watched the man shag the girl with whom he was infatuated. The punter's face was contorted with the intensity of his pleasure and he leaned down and tried to kiss the woman lying under him but she turned her face away but she wrapped her legs around his torso and held him close and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and continued to whisper encouragement as the man shuddered in a paroxysm of intense gratification. Dennis could hear the cot creaking as the man drove himself into her and began to moan.

Dennis knew that the man was climaxing and the sight of it was overwhelming. Dennis had taken out his bloated phallus and he hardly touched it as it erupted and his knees began to tremble and a tremendous orgasm ripped through him. His seed spattered against the side of the hut and splattered on the muddy ground. He held onto the windowsill with his free hand to stop himself collapsing.

The rage, jealousy and possessiveness intensified as he climaxed; his eyes glued to the stranger rutting the girl in the blue denim skirt.

It was over quickly. The man climbed off her, tucked his flaccid penis into his underpants and pulled up his trousers. He seemed ashamed and uncomfortable and couldn't wait to leave. He ripped a twenty pound note from a roll of bank notes and threw it on the cot and reached for his jacket which was hanging on a peg next to some work clothes.

The girl Dennis now suspected was named Charmaine had kicked off her heels and removed her knickers and tights and was wiping between her legs with a wad of tissues. The man left through the door on the other side of the hut while Charmaine took a pair of cheap pantyhose from her purse, unrolled them and slipped up her legs and put her knickers on over them. The whole process seemed expertly done and as she kept her skirt on Dennis was spared the indignity of seeing her tuck her genitals.

Charmaine took her denim jacket off the peg and put it on, putting the money in one pocket and the wad of tissues and ripped tights in the other and then lit a cigarette. She put on her heels and doused the table lamp and the shed was plunged into darkness. Dennis put himself away and stood still waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark.

He watched Charmaine walk slowly back to her spot on the wall, stopping briefly to drop the ripped tights and wad of cummy tissues in a bin beside the path. One of the other brasses was heading his way arm in arm with a punter, both of them laughing. When they stopped short of the cottage so the punter could kiss the brass and feel her up Dennis made his escape.

He stopped briefly at the path-side bin and retrieved the pantyhose and stuffed them in his pocket and then he turned away from the wall and strode across the lawn to the far exit. He was fuming with anger but raging with sexual excitement.

When he got home he closed the door to the staircase leading upstairs, extracted his copy of Tranny Streetwalkers from the cupboard behind the bar and loaded it into the VCR. He sat in his big easy chair and pulled out the pantyhose he had rescued from the bin. They were cheap tan nylon tights and smelled of Charmaine's perfume. There was a hole in the gusset and they had laddered which was obviously why Charmaine had discarded them.

Dennis cued up the scene where the tranny was being fucked on her back in the back of the transit van, her legs high in the air, her face contorted with lechery. He draped a leg of Charmaine's pantyhose over his rigid phallus and began to slowly stroke it whilst he watched the movie in the dark silent room.

Polly pressed her eye to the door which she had silently opened just a crack and watched her husband masturbate. She felt sorry for him but she felt sorrier for herself. She slipped her fingers inside the satin knickers that she was now wearing regularly and opened the folds of her sex and rubbed her engorged nubbin whilst her husband rubbed his cock and when his spend bubbled up through the taunt nylon she bit her lips to stifle a moan as she orgasmed along with him.

*****

"Come on Dennis finish yer tale; it's getting late and we've both got second jobs to go to. Did you shag the girl or didn't you?" Steven encouraged his workmate, excited by his tale.

"I went back after working the pub last Friday night and she was sitting on the wall as usual wearing the same blue denim skirt and cheap tights," Dennis sighed.

"I shouldn't have done it because Villa were playing at home on Saturday and I was rostered on to work behind the bar at the Holte," Dennis extrapolated.

He still hadn't told Steven that the girl in the blue denim skirt was a transvestite and he had no intention of doing so.

"Villa got up over Reading four one. A great day for the claret and blue," Steven grinned.

"But tell me about this lass you seem to have become infatuated with," Steven leaned in to listen.

*****

Dennis was sober; he hadn't touched a drop after the publican closed the Holte making up an excuse for not staying for the lock-in with the other bar staff and selected clientele.

The girl in the blue denim skirt was sitting on the wall swinging her legs as usual and her face broke into a brilliant smile as Dennis approached.

"I thought you'd lost your bottle," she said to him when he stopped in front of her.

"Is your name Charmaine?" Dennis asked brazenly.

The girl's smile widened.

"Who told you that?" she raised her brows inquisitively, brushing the fringe out of her eyes.

"One of the other brasses. You weren't here," Dennis said in an accusatory tone.

"A lass has to make a living and besides, I thought you were no longer interested," she teased him.

"You use the groundsman's hut," Dennis pointed is chin at the low buildings set back a little distance from the wall.

"I'm hardly the type you take back to the hotel and most punters don't have a motor," she shrugged her shoulders.

"You wanna come back there?" Charmaine nodded her head at the decrepit buildings.

"Is it still a free one?" Dennis whispered.

"Only because I like you. You pay for the next one," Charmaine replied nonplussed.

"Who says there will be a next one?" Dennis replied a little churlishly.

The girl dropped down from the wall and approached Dennis. He breathed in her scent which was comingled with an undercurrent of menthol cigarettes. Charmaine stopped when she was inches from him and he gazed into her face and felt his heart racing.

She leaned into him pressed her lips on his and Dennis felt his heart thudding in his chest

"I never kiss punters but you're special. I like you," Charmaine whispered.

"I like you too," Dennis whispered also.

They were like two children in the playground, nervous and skittish.

Dennis kissed her again and this time it was better because he wasn't so anxious. He pressed his lips against hers a little harder, tasting her lipstick and inhaling her scent. Her arms reached out and she steadied against him, tottering on her heels as she scootched into him. Dennis liked the feel of her fingers pressing into his biceps; he could feel her long nails digging into him a little through his shirt.

Charmaine took a half step forward so that finally their bodies were pressed together and Dennis sighed and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She clung to him and slipped her tongue into his mouth which delighted Dennis. She tasted sweet with an undercurrent of menthol.

She was as tall as he was and their bodied melded. Charmaine didn't have a big bust like Polly's but he could feel the protuberances of her little breasts, which he suspected were false, through her blouse. Her denim jacket lay folded on the wall beside her purse. But Dennis had no interest in those silicone inserts and his hands drifted to her backside which was where his fascination dwelled. He finally put his hands on that little blue denim skirt, cupping her buttocks in his palms and Charmaine gasped as he did so.

Charmaine kissed him harder, encouraging him, her hands locked together behind Dennis's neck as she pressed herself into him.

The skirt had softened with wear and when Dennis scrunched it in his hands the fabric slid easily over Charmaine's satin-swathed buttocks, the hem of the skirt riding up her thighs. Dennis slipped his hands under the blue denim skirt and began to explore the wonders he had dreamed of.

She might be lean-framed but Charmaine had ample buttocks and Dennis enjoyed squeezing them through her satin full-cut knickers. Charmaine shivered a little both at the sudden rush of cold air on her nether regions and the feel of Dennis's hands gently squeezing her bottom. She could feel his cock pressing into her and sensed his need but she was aware that despite the hour they were on a public pathway in a public park.

"Come with me," Charmaine disengaged and Dennis was disappointed at first but when Charmaine made her intent known his excitement returned and intensified.

He helped her over the wall taking the opportunity to look up her skirt at her red satin knickers and her sleek thighs swathed in tan nylon. He leapt over it and reached for Charmaine as she snatched up her purse and her coat. Their route to the little shed that the groundskeepers used as their change room and tea room was frequently interrupted as they stopped to kiss and cuddle.

Inside the hut Charmaine scrambled to find the table lamp as Dennis clung to her, kissing her and feeling her up. She turned it on and they fell on the bed with Dennis lying on top of her.

They kissed and cuddled, tongues intertwined, Dennis caressing her legs and her bottom and Charmaine stroking his cock through his trousers. She could feel that he was rampant and sensed his need. She fumbled at his crotch and unzipped him and freed his stout manhood and took it in her hand.

"Oh my god that feels so good," Dennis sighed and began to caress the front of Charmaine's knickers.