An Unwelcome Visit


It had been over a year since I had split from my boyfriend, Rick. We had a terrible row in which he had accused me of seeing another man. He walked out, never to return. I had tried to give up wearing girls' clothes afterwards in an effort to become a 'normal' person and to try to blot out some bad memories, but the desire was just too strong. I had got back into cross-dressing in a big way. I had indulged myself by filing my wardrobe with dresses, skirts, blouses, panties, bras and stockings. I had also bought a large selection of cosmetics, toiletries and jewellery, not forgetting several pairs of high-heeled shoes and a long blonde wig. I had even begun to sleep in a nightdress.

The truth was I didn't really feel myself dressed as a man; I felt stifled, repressed. The first thing I always did getting home from work was strip off my male clothes and put on some clean panties and a bra, with generous inserts in place of real breasts. The relief of feeling soft, delicate, feminine material against my skin was always overwhelming.

I had been alone since Rick left, and had shown little interest in a social life. For sex, I masturbated regularly with the aid of a butt plug. I needed the sensation of being filled up. I had taken a week off work and spent every day in my favourite clothes, make-up and perfume. Looking back, I was leading a quite pathetic, sad life, completely cut off from all contact with people, except for my work colleagues.

It was just after 9 am on the Wednesday morning. I had dressed in a pink summer mini-dress, hold-up black stockings and red sling-backed shoes. I had applied make-up, at which I was becoming quite adept, having researched the subject. I was feeling pretty good. The doorbell rang. I wasn't alarmed, since I expected the postman, having sent away for some more lingerie by mail-order. All I needed to do was sling my denim jacket over my shoulders and bend my arm around the opened door to grab the packages. There was no need for me to be seen.

I rushed downstairs, opened the front door, and prepared to take the packets. To my horror, the voice at the door said "central heating." I had agreed to the date of the compulsory annual gas check, done for safety reasons, and had completely forgotten about it!

"Give me two minutes!" I replied in a blind panic. I ran around the house trying desperately to remove all traces of my cross-dressing activity. I pulled a pair of baggy jeans over my dress, put on a jumper and splashed water on my face to try and wash off the make-up and mask the odour of my perfume.

Hurrying back to the door, I let the central heating man in. "Sorry about that," I apologised. "I had to clear a few things up."

"That's all right, mate," he said in a friendly, cockney voice. "There's no rush."

I ushered him in and showed him where the boiler was. I then realised what a miserable effort I'd made to try to hide my guilty secret. My breast inserts were lying about a foot from the boiler, there was a catalogue specialising in transvestite clothing prominently on display, and there were bras and panties hanging over one of the radiators. My fingernails were also still varnished. Furthermore, you could still detect my perfume floating in the air and I had forgotten to put anything on my feet, so my stockings were visible beneath my jeans. He'd obviously noticed this, as he looked down meaningfully. It was the same with the breast inserts; he couldn't help seeing them.

He started work on the boiler. He seemed to be taking an eternity. I couldn't wait to get rid of him. Whilst he worked he chatted in a friendly way about the usual, banal subjects: the weather and football. He was a nice-looking bloke: tall, slim, with a handsome face and a nice pert bum. He was in his mid-twenties, I estimated, like myself. In other circumstances I might have been attracted to him. Now, however, my nervous tension overcame any desire.

To make matters worse, he found a fault; he would have to stay even longer. Then he said something that stunned me. "You know, you have no reason to go to any trouble on my account. What you do in the privacy of your own home is your own affair."

"What do you mean?" I mumbled.

"Look, mate. I'm a pretty broad-minded guy. I have friends who dress, how can I put it, alternatively. Just relax. I'm here to do a job, that's all. I'm not some kind of inspector."

I'd been rumbled. With others I might have been overcome with shame, but something about his manner reassured me. He was so natural and matter-of-fact. He clearly couldn't give a damn about my cross-dressing. I felt kind of comfortable with him.

"You're right," I conceded. "It's ridiculous behaving like this in your own house." With that, I pulled off my jumper and jeans, which was a relief, as the weather was very hot. Once again I was revealed in my dress and stockings.

"That's better," he said, smiling pleasantly. "I'll be about half-an-hour here and then I'll be off."

We continued talking. As time went on, I felt a lot easier with him. I even forgot about what I wearing. Suddenly I felt saddened at the prospect of him going. He finished his job, packed his tools, and prepared to go. I summoned up all the courage I could muster. "Thank you for fixing the boiler. Would you like a cup of coffee before you go?" I asked this half desperately, not expecting a positive response.

"OK," he replied. "I don't have too many jobs on today, so there's plenty of time. What's your name by the way? I'm Greg."

"Lee," I replied, shaking hands with him. He had a nice, firm, confident handshake. I made the coffee and we sat down on the sofa together. As we talked, I discovered him to be a thoroughly nice man. We even joked about my wretched attempts to cover up my cross-dressing. Even after we'd finished our coffee, we still spent a good half hour just chatting.

"You know something," said Greg. "You look alright in that dress." With that, he put his hand on my knee. I looked him straight in the eye and moved my face to his. He pulled me to him and pressed his lips to mine in a beautiful kiss - the first in such a long time. We looked at each other and kissed again. This time he began to stroke my thigh, even venturing to the bare skin between my stocking tops and my panties. My goodness that felt good!

"Look, Lee, I have to get on with a job. I have to go," said Greg.

"Would you like to come tonight for dinner?" I asked. Again, with my ingrained pessimism, I expected a refusal.

"Yes, that would be nice. I'm finished at five. What time should I come?"

"Say 6.30?" I replied, trying to suppress a tone of triumph.

"Great," he said. I look forward to it."

I was walking on air. After all the tension and fear, I had finally got a date!

The intervening hours passed all too slowly. I spared no effort in making myself look as attractive as possible, settling on a pink pleated skirt and sequined white top with white stockings. I baked a pizza for the two of us, me being no slouch when it comes to cookery, and looked forward to Greg's arrival.

Finally, the doorbell rang. I looked out the window to check the identity of the caller. I didn't want any repetition of the morning's events. My heart skipped a beat when I realised it was indeed Greg. I opened the door and motioned him inside. He looked me up and down admiringly. "You look nice," he said.

"Thank-you," I replied. "You don't look too bad yourself."

We had a lovely dinner, made even more pleasant by the delightful conversation. It was clear we had a lot in common. Afterwards we sat on the sofa and drank wine together. Our conversation became ever warmer and intimate. His hand found mine, and I was confident he wouldn't be leaving my house tonight.

At a certain point, as I was bringing my glass to my mouth, he restrained me. Taking my glass and putting it on the coffee table, he pulled me to him and kissed me passionately. I returned his passion with interest, putting my tongue in his mouth, letting him know how much I wanted him. How good I felt in his arms!

After we had broken our kiss, I asked him: "Would you like to stay the night?"

"Try and stop me," was his welcome reply.

We spent the next couple of hours snuggled up together on the sofa listening to music. It seemed even his musical tastes were close to mine.

Finally, we decided it was time for bed. I led him by the hand upstairs to my bedroom, where we embraced passionately. I felt his hand sliding up the back of my skirt, up my panties, until it rested on my bottom. I responded by feeling the bulging crotch at the front of his jeans.

We undressed with alacrity. Finally, we both stood naked. His cock was already semi-erect and needed little further coaxing. I asked him to lie back on my bed and relax. I went to work on his penis, sucking and licking it until it gained its full, masculine stiffness and height. I then took a condom from the packet that I optimistically kept by the side of my bed and slipped it down his full length.

"Lubricate me, darling," I told him, handing him the little tube I used with my butt plug. His fingers felt heavenly as they found my anal entrance. It had been an age since I had enjoyed such intimacy. I just wanted him inside me.

He put two pillows on the bed and lay me on them so that I was comfortable and that my bum was in a nicely raised position. He then got behind me and tentative placed the tip of his stiff prick against my anal entrance. Pushing forward, he spread my bum cheeks and got about half of his cock in, as I tried to relax my sphincter in order to accommodate him. Eventually, he gave a quick jerk forward and speared me right to the hilt.

Holding me by the hips, he began to fuck me with slow, deliberate strokes, as he reached around in front of me with one hand and stroked my cock. It seemed my year of loneliness had dissipated entirely as I quivered and moaned uncontrollably under his intimate attentions. I began to push my bum back to meet his increasingly urgent thrusts. I'm pleased he is not one of these men who come in a few seconds; he fucked me for a good few minutes before he accelerated his stroking and I knew he was approaching orgasm.

Gripping me with greater force, he began to mingle his moans with my own. He drove in and out of me harder and harder, this thighs making contact with my buttocks at each stroke. Eventually, he just seemed to lose control altogether; his fucking became altogether frenzied. "Oh, Lee, I'm going to come!" he exclaimed. I felt his cock expand and shoot inside me. After he did so, he rubbed my foreskin up and down rapidly, until I ejaculated copiously into the pillows. It was wonderful, cathartic sex.

We lay together afterward, kissing and caressing, and I slept in his arms. After we awoke the next morning, we made love again. Needless to say, Greg called in to work sick that day! I am happy to say he is now my regular lover and he moved in with me about two months ago. It's incredible how a day that started so unpromisingly ended up so happily.

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