Wanna-be Crush

[All characters are 18 years of age or older.]

Wanna-be Crush

Crossdresser has an out-of-body sexual experience

(Author's note: The following story is somewhat removed from my usual genres, and includes crossdressing and transgender, and even pushes into sci-fi a bit. It also includes male bisexuality, but told from a little different perspective. The storyline was suggested by a longtime reader and fan and was both a challenge and a pleasure to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Love,

Casey)

My name is Rich and I am a crossdresser. I would prefer to be a transgender, but at this point in my life--married with two grown kids and a grandchild--it's just not in the cards for me. That doesn't stop me from dreaming, however.

Several years ago, my wife came home unexpectedly and caught me in my women's clothes. She freaked out and demanded that I get counseling. I truly love Meg, and in order to save our marriage, I agreed.

I got rid of all of my female clothing and toed the line for a year or so, but even with bi-weekly therapy sessions the desire to be female never went away, I just learned to hide it better.

Eventually, I changed therapists, and the new one, Dr. Lane, understood that there was no cure for my "condition" of gender dysphoria so we worked on management. He indulged me by allowing me to dress in women's clothes--which I kept at his office--while we were having our sessions. This of course reduced the stress of never being able to crossdress at all but increased the longing for wanting to do it more openly and more often.

One of the aspects of my longing is that I will often imagine myself as some woman that I see on the street or in some other normal situation. Dr. Lane refers to this as gender transference; I call it a "wanna-be crush." Most men would see a hot, attractive woman and fantasize about being with her; I fantasize about actually being her. Sometimes it's just to feel the sexy, feminine clothes she's wearing, but often I imagine getting laid by one of those male admirers.

Female runners often grab my attention with their snug-fitting work-out clothes and their bouncing breasts, but my "avatar" could just as easily be a sexy-dressed woman in the grocery store, the chatty, brightly-smiling barrister at Starbucks, or a female police officer. I love the uniform thing! I once imagined myself as the female pilot of an airliner I was flying on after I watched her climb into her seat in the cockpit wearing her crisply-pressed uniform with its epaulets on the shoulders and her wings over one perky breast. I've never enjoyed a flight more! And of course, there are women dressed only in their sexy lingerie in porn movies. Most guys would picture themselves being the man in the scene; I imagine myself as the woman taking a stiff cock in any and all of my holes.

During one of my sessions with Dr. Lane, I mentioned that I had recently become particularly fixated on a singer by the name of Sophia MacDonald. I explained that she was part of a duo with a guy named Larry Cleese, they called themselves "Mac and Cleese," and played House and Electronic Dance Music. I told him that although I had heard a song or two of theirs on the radio, I had never seen them play. That changed during a commercial for a big sports event in our vicinity.

I was mesmerized watching her on my TV! Their music--even pushed into the background by the announcer's voiceover--was addictive, very upbeat, and energetic. Intrigued, I went online and found some videos of them playing at various clubs and I was hooked.

Sophia would be up in front playing guitar, singing, and dancing to the beat. Their stage presence was nothing short of magnetic and I loved how they used color. I found myself dancing around the kitchen as I was cleaning up.

I told Dr. Lane that as I watched Sophia dancing and playing, wearing her big smile as she sang, I thought, Wow! How I would love to be in her shoes! I described her amazing, sexy outfit and how I wanted one! I explained that I downloaded every song they did and listened to them all week, which made my wanna-be crush on Sophia a full-fledged obsession.

I had told him all of that to get his opinion on an opportunity that had presented itself. Mac and Cleese was one of several groups who were going to be playing at a local outdoor venue in a couple of weeks and I wondered if he thought it would be a good idea for me to go and see my obsession live. I explained that I would be going with my younger daughter--who doesn't know about my "condition" or that I'm in therapy, at all. My wife would have zero interest in going as she doesn't like EDM or big crowds.

We discussed the pros and cons and he finally decided that it would be okay for me to go--with my daughter as chaperone--but then he made what seemed at the time to be an odd request. He asked me to buy an autographed CD if one was available.

Skipping ahead, the concert was amazing! They played many of the songs I was familiar with plus several new ones--which were available on the CD they'd be selling and autographing after the show. We waited in line for nearly an hour, and not only did I get a signed CD, but I got to shake Sophia's hand, as well! If there hadn't been a table between us I probably would have gone for a hug... and been dragged off by security.

A few days later, Dr. Lane emailed me--something he never did--and asked how the concert was. In my exuberant reply, I mentioned that I had gotten the autographed CD, and he replied that I should take care that as few people touch it as possible and that I should bring it with me to our next session. Another very odd request.

When we met two weeks later, I expected him to want to play my memento during our session, but he said he didn't even own a CD player anymore. I went into his bathroom to change into my women's clothes, and when I came out I was surprised to see another man there with Dr. Lane.

"This is Dr. Ward," my therapist introduced. "I've been discussing your gender transference with him over the past few months and in particular your recent obsession with Sophia MacDonald."

Collectively we discussed my wanna-be crush and then Dr. Ward asked if I would be willing to be part of an immersion experiment that would allow me to feel like I actually was Sophia for a short period of time. I couldn't agree quickly enough! If he explained the details I don't even remember.

Dr. Ward then led me through some meditation exercises and told me to continue them daily for the next month until our next session. He instructed me that I was to hold onto the signed CD while meditating and that I should focus on a mental image of Sophia the whole time, and while doing so to recall, in as much detail as possible, shaking hands with her. Not an unpleasant way to spend an hour or so each day!

My next session, five weeks later, took place at Dr. Ward's office on a Friday night, which happened to be when Mac and Cleese were doing a concert in the next city over. Ward's office was set up more like a laboratory that a therapist's office.

I was told to get undressed and put on a robe, and the three of us sat and talked about the experiment.

As I sipped a cup of tea that contained a sedative to help my mind go completely blank, Dr. Ward explained that they were going to put me in a sensory-deprivation float tank in a darkened, soundproof room to nullify the rest of my senses, as well. He attached some electrodes to my head, my fingertips, my nipples, and using a Velcro band, around the base of my penis behind my scrotum. He then explained that in my near-comatose state and using the personalized CD as an antenna of sorts, I was going to be able to channel Sophia, in real-time, into my mind and body. I would have no control over her, but I would see, feel, and hear everything that she did. In short, it would feel as if I was Sophia.

"Perfect!" Dr. Ward said to Dr. Lane as he pointed out the sudden jumps in the outputs from my sensors as the thought of being Sophia registered in my mind. "The readings will all settle down as the sedative takes hold," I heard him explain to Lane "We'll see them come back again when the transference is made, only we'll be watching Sophia's readings. The fact that actual physical contact had been made when they shook hands should make the connection even stronger than usual."

My mind was getting pretty foggy as they helped me into the float tank. It was filled with water about ten inches deep into which a huge amount of Epsom salt had been dissolved creating such positive buoyancy that floating was completely effortless. The temperature of the small room and the water was about 94-degrees, which was the same as my skin-temperature, so as I floated I soon felt absolutely nothing.

The last thing I remember hearing was Dr. Ward talking on his phone to someone who was apparently at the venue where Mac and Cleese were playing. "Perfect! Perfect!" he said. "Right on time." And then I drifted into a deep, silent, black void.

Whether it was a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours I couldn't say, but I eventually came out of the fog and found myself in a strange room with blue-painted walls. As I took off my shirt and slacks I realized that it was a dressing room. I turned to look at myself in the full-length mirror and saw Sophia MacDonald looking back at me!

She was dressed in a beige bra of delicate, silky fabric through which her dark, quarter-size nipples were indistinctly visible, and a pair of matching panties that similarly obscured-without-hiding the dark landing-strip of hair on her pubic mound.

If I had still been me, I would have gotten an instant erection, but instead, I found myself assessing the semi-nude body in front of me more critically than appreciatively.

She reached behind herself and unhooked the bra and then slipped it down her arms, exposing her beautiful breasts. As they took their own relaxed and natural shape I suddenly understood why my wife always went, "Ahh!" when she removed her bra. What a marvelous, freeing feeling!

She laid the bra across the back of a chair, then turned back to the mirror and cupped both breasts in her hands, lifting them just slightly. The softness of her naked flesh, their wonderful weight, and even their warmth should have given me a hard-on like a steel pipe, but I was getting no sexual reaction from holding onto my crush's naked tits at all! Then, in the small area of my brain that was still my own, I put the pieces together and realized that I was experiencing her feelings, her reactions, not mine.

She turned sideways to the mirror and hefted her breasts a few times focusing on the fold of skin created below them when she released their weight. My God! Was she worried that she had saggy boobs!? They were frigging perfect!

Apparently accepting the laws of gravity, she faced the mirror again and pushed her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down over her hips and ass. Again, looking at her neatly trimmed and partially-shaven pubic mound I should have had a boner poking up out of the float tank like a periscope, but I felt no arousal, at all. I began to wonder if Dr. Ward's sedative had blunted my ability to become aroused. If so, I was going to be very disappointed in this experiment!

Sophia turned in profile and looked at the shape of her body. Her c-cup breasts settled just slightly against her chest, her belly was flat, and her pubic mound with its tuft of dark hair was just visible. Her back had a gentle s-shape that flowed into the curve of her round behind.

As I watched, once more frustrated by my lack of erection, she reached her hands under her ass cheeks and pulled up on them as she had done with her breasts, looking intently at the tiny crease where cheek met leg. Are you shitting me? I wanted to scream at her. Your body is perfect! Stop being so critical!

Suddenly, I heard a rap on a door, and I realized I was hearing it through Sophia's ears. "Five minutes, Miss MacDonald!" a male voice called through the door.

"Thanks, Charlie!" she called back and then stepped away from the mirror. From an open suitcase, she lifted a white bra. As she put it on over her head I saw--and felt--that it was more like a sports bra, having no hooks in the back, but with some lacy trim all around the edges. As she took hold of her breasts and jiggled them to get them settled in, I felt how the cups pulled her boobs up and together. She looked at herself in the mirror above the dressing table and pushed back and forth a couple of times getting her cleavage even.

Next, she unfolded a long skirt from her suitcase and stepped into it. She pulled it up to just below her belly button and shifted it around until the slit down her left leg was positioned exactly right.

She stepped in front of the long mirror again and looked herself up and down just as another knock came on the door. "You ready?" a different male voice asked. I recognized it as Sophia's partner, Larry Cleese.

"Yeah," she answered, "Come in."

He came in and closed the door behind himself as Sophia turned to face him. "Oh, you look nice!" he said. "You are going to knock them out!"

"Thanks!" she said with a wide smile and then leaned in to kiss him.

That I could feel his lips against Sophia's as if they were pressing mine surprised me on several levels. First off, for some reason, I had forgotten that I was going to be able to feel what she felt.

Second, I had wondered if she and Larry were more than just performance partners, and as their lips moved against each other the answer became quite obvious.

The third thing was that although I was a crossdresser and would love to be able to go through the MtF transition, I had never kissed another man. I don't know whether I was experiencing it through my own set of emotions or through Sophia's but I found that I liked it!

The fourth surprise--even more welcome than the others--was that I felt a tingle of arousal as "we" kissed Larry. If I hadn't been near-comatose I'd have pumped my fist and yelled, "Yes!"

They broke the kiss and Sophia asked, "How does the crowd look?"

"Pretty well packed," he answered. "A few scattered single-seats, and a good standing crowd up back around the bar."

As she smiled at his reply I got a fifth surprise. Feeling it in my own crotch, but in a little different way than getting a hard-on, her pussy tingled.

She gave him another quick kiss and said, "Let's go do this!" As she headed out the door of the dressing room I got a sixth surprise. She hadn't put on any underwear. She was going out there to play in front of a near-SRO crowd commando under a dress that was slit up to her hip! Holy shit!

Backstage both performers put on a headset with a little microphone that extended around one cheek. I then felt Sophia put her guitar strap over her head and settle the weight of the instrument across her body at a comfortable angle. She slid her fingers up and down the neck, stopping and squeezing periodically in what I assumed were cord positions. I don't play any instrument, so I really wouldn't know.

Then I heard the MC introducing them, finally ending with, "... ladies and gentlemen, Mac and Cleese!"

As Sophia and Larry pushed through the curtains the crowd went wild and so did my crotch. In the float tank I couldn't tell if I had an erection, but I sure as hell hoped so! There was a tingling going on between my legs that was unlike anything I'd ever felt. It had to be Sophia's arousal. Her pussy lit up at the sound of the applause and the sight of the crowd.

She contorted the fingers of her right hand in a position on the strings of her guitar and as she brought her pick down across the strings with her left the first cord of one of their most popular songs blasted from the speakers and the crowd clapped, whistled, and yelled their approval. She pulled the heavy instrument tightly against herself, pressing the back of the big delta-shaped body against her pubic mound, and rubbing the back of the neck across her engorged nipple, and I felt the wetness of her pussy. Once again, Holy shit!

For the next forty minutes they played almost non-stop and Sophia's pussy and nipples didn't stop tingling, either. By the time the crowd brought them back for a second encore, I could feel her wetness on the insides of her legs.

After their third exit from the stage, they finally pulled off their microphones and guitars, handed them to stagehands, and went back to Sophia's dressing room.

They barely had the door closed when Sophia had her arms around Larry and she was kissing him hungrily. I felt her lips mashed against his, I felt his tongue as she pushed hers into his mouth, and I felt him bite down lightly on her tongue eliciting a purr that felt as if it came from my own throat. I also felt her rubbing her tits against his chest, stimulating "our" already-sensitized nipples through her bra.

To my disappointment, Larry finally broke the kiss--although he continued to hold us tightly to his body--and then said, "That was a good show, tonight, Soph. They loved you. I wonder if anyone in the front row could tell how aroused you were. You think they could see how stiff your nipples were through that flimsy bra? Especially when you rubbed them with your guitar? You think any of them could smell your wet, naked pussy?"

Obviously, the attention, the energy, the adoration that she received from the crowd while performing was an aphrodisiac for her and Larry knew it. He was teasing her--teasing us--with it, and it caused the tingles we were feeling to start shooting sparks.

I felt her pussy dribble a little more arousal juice as she almost growled at him, "Fuck me, Larry! God, they have me so fucking horny I need a stiff cock up my cunt right now!" She reached down and began to rub the front of his pants, but to my surprise, he wasn't rock hard (like I probably was in the float tank).

Adding yet another surprise--and disappointment at least on my side--he didn't pull her clothes off, throw her on the couch and start fucking her. Instead, he took her two wrists, and as he held them together behind her back, he gave her another kiss, then taunted her, "All in due time, my horny little attention-whore. First, tell me which lucky guy you picked out tonight. Which one were you dreaming was licking the juice from your pussy while you played? Which one was on stage with you sticking his fat cock between your legs from behind while you sang? Which guy won the lottery and got to poke his boner up your cunt while you ground your guitar into your tits?"

"Oh, you fucking tease!" she snarled with a little chuckle behind it. Apparently, this was part of some foreplay game they played. With the almost-electric buzz in Sophia's pussy that I was feeling in my crotch and the tingling of her swollen nipples that I felt in mine, it seemed obvious that Sophia didn't need any more foreplay. I know I sure as hell didn't!

"For your information, smart-ass," she said in a defiant tone, "I didn't imagine any guy fucking me on stage tonight. I was dreaming about that short-haired redhead with the white jeans that hugged her ass like they were painted on, and the blue satin blouse that barely contained her gorgeous tits."

"Red, white, and blue," he teased her. "Very patriotic. I remember her. So, tell me what you did with your all-American friend."

I remembered her, too, and remembered Sophia's pussy tingling hard while she stared at her during one of their more sexy-themed songs. I was about to understand why.

"I brought her up on stage and I kissed her while I played and rubbed my guitar between our tits. Then I told her to show them to me, which the whole audience heard over my mic, and they cheered and hooted while she pulled open her shirt. God, they were gorgeous! Big white orbs with fat brown nipples that would poke your eye out!