The King and I Ch. 01

This is the first part of a multi-part story. It sets the scene for the rest of the action.

I woke up to a blow job. It was still dark and I couldn't see who it was but I was too exhausted to care. I lay back and let whoever it was swallow my rapidly growing cock, sucking me in as I hardened. Whoever it was certainly knew what they were doing and it wasn't long before I was shooting what little I had left into their mouth, hearing them slurp it all up, feeling them gulp it down. It had been one hell of a night. It was hard to believe it all started because I was involved in amateur dramatics. Totally sated I drifted back into sleep thinking about how the evening had begun.

I don't recall how it happened, but when I was still at school I was persuaded to join the school theatre group. Once I started though I was hooked. There was something about legitimately becoming someone else, of throwing aside your normal public face and if the part required it, behaving totally outrageously, that really connected. I suppose it was because I had this ability to let rip, not to be frightened, that I sort of graduated to the extreme parts.

In my first year at University I got the Yul Brynner role in "The King and I". I had a good voice and although this wasn't my sort of music, no one else came near at the auditions. It wasn't essential to shave my head, but the producer thought that if I were willing it would help, since his performance was the definitive one in the eye of the public. This was in the early 1970s, when very long hair was the norm, so knowing that when I hit the streets my shiny pate would really stand out, I put it off for a while, figuring to wait until closer to the dress rehearsals.

Like me the female lead wasn't the obvious choice. She was quite a bit older than Anna should have been; in fact our ages were probably reversed from what the parts demanded, she being in her mid-30s. But, she had a great semi-operatic voice and good stage presence, plus she was a much better actor then I was ever likely to be. She had been at drama school, but pregnancy and marriage (in that order I gathered) had ruined her chances. She was divorced now and apparently there were no children around.

So, like any amateur group we made the best of what we had. I soon found that although my voice was good for a pub band it wasn't really up to the sort of singing we had to do in this show and early on it showed signs of giving out. Anna (I won't use her real name) offered to give me some voice coaching and take me through some of our more complex scenes together.

To my surprise we got on really well and with her help both my singing and acting improved enormously. As we got closer to the production date I decided it was time to do the deed and shave my head. I cut it back very hard with scissors and then tried an electric razor across the top. I made a right mess and it looked awful. When I went to my next rehearsal session with Anna at her house, I wore a woolly cap to hide the awful state of my scalp. Anna saw the mess and offered to finish it off for me. She said she couldn't concentrate with that awful sight in front of her.

She took me into her kitchen and sat me on a stool, wrapping a towel round my neck. She filled a bowl with warm water and then started smoothing shaving cream over my head. I was wondering how she happened to have any when, as if reading my mind, she said, "I use this for shaving my legs," she paused, "and if you believe that you will believe anything!" She laughed and so did I.

She carried on with smoothing in the shaving cream, massaging my scalp. I started to feel slightly uncomfortable. I thought of her as a friend but the sort of slow stroking of my head she was doing seemed just a little more friendly than normal. She started shaving me then, slowly taking the razor over my scalp, wiping it on a towel, then again, slowly and quite languorously working her way across my head. She finished I thought, then wiped the soap from my head, and ran her fingers across the smooth skin, covering every inch of my scalp with a soft gentle touch.

"Not smooth enough" she said and immediately soaped up my head again and repeating the process. Again she wiped the skin free of soap, then took a soft damp cloth and smoothed it across the head, gently removing every trace of soap. I started to get up, thanking her but she pulled me back onto the chair.

"Your scalp isn't used to this," she said, "it will need some protection." She splashed some lotion on my naked scalp and began gently smoothing it in. Her soft fingers on my naked scalp were quite stimulating and to my embarrassment I became quite hard. My arousal was not eased by my realising that her touch on my scalp was changing, her strokes across my hand becoming somehow almost erotic. Her breath in my ear was harsh and she seemed almost to be panting. It seemed that she found massaging my naked head to be similarly stimulating...

She suddenly stopped the smooth gentle handling of my head and stepped back. She gulped in some air and started bustling around clearing up the shaving gear and soap. She seemed to be as embarrassed as I was. I pulled the towel from around my neck and stood up, then went into the next room and pretended to consult my script. I wasn't quite sure how to cope with this new Anna who had become aroused by the touch of my scalp.

Our rehearsal that night was not a success. We both knew something had happened and we were tense and on edge. After a while, we decided to call it a night and I went home. By the next rehearsal we managed to settle down to a reasonable working arrangement, but our relationship had definitely changed. We were much more aware of each other's presence in some indefinable way. That edginess seemed to help the performance however and the production was a great success.

Despite Anna's reaction I hadn't anticipated my shaven head would have the same impact on other women. I would be sitting on the bus and a hand would reach out and stroke my head. Turning round I would find some middle-aged lady looking embarrassed. It was the same in lectures. Women were actually jostling to sit behind me so that they could stroke my head. At first it was annoying but gradually, like any horny 19 year old I began to see the possibilities.

At first I would just grab their hand and hold it there. Later I started asking if they had any shiny bits they wanted me to polish, or I might ask if I could rub to rub the bits they had shaved. It was usually good for a laugh if nothing else and a couple of times I struck gold, not always where I might have expected. Women in their 30s and 40s turned out to be much randier than this particular 19 year old expected. Suffice to say I had a good time, good enough to decide to keep my head shaved.

I stayed in the theatre group and did several more productions, although I didn't play opposite Anna again until our Christmas pantomime, some three years later. I was cast as the Ugly Sister and Anna as the Prince in Cinderella. For this to make sense you need to know that the British pantomime is a rather strange thing. It blends the Italian Commedia del'Arte with Music Hall, medieval mystery plays and modern pop culture into a dramatic form unique to Britain. One key element is the fact that it involves several parts played by members of the opposite sex. So, the Principal Boy is nominally the boy hero, but the part is always taken by a girl, usually in a short tight jacket with knee high boots and fishnet stockings. The Dame is usually dressed in grotesque outrageous clothing, with many costume changes. In Cinderella, men also play the Ugly Sisters, but they are much closer to being villains than the camp good humour of the Dame character. In this production, the show ended with the wedding of Cinderella and the Prince, so all the costumes for this scene were really elaborate.

We only had one Ugly Sister in this production, because I was the only one willing to go into drag other than the Dame, who took the same role every year. Like the Dame the Ugly Sisters would normally have looked pretty grotesque and would obviously be a man in drag. Because I was on my own this time, the director decided to go for a different version of grotesque and dressed me to look as realistic as a six foot tall rugby player is ever going to be. I had to have my legs and chest waxed, which was painful, and then from somewhere he got an incredible costume. I had thigh length red leather boots with four inch heels. My dress was cream silk cut short above the boots, with red panties showing underneath. I was given a realistic set of false tits, including a quite impressive cleavage, although the high collar of the dress hid that. I wore long cream gloves, matching the dress. On my bald head was mounted a huge beehive wig, at least 18 inches in height, with flowers and fake gemstones woven in to it. To that was added dramatic eye makeup and bright red lipstick.

The director got Cinders and Anna to show me how to walk in all this as realistically as possible. Cinders insisted that could only happen if I was wearing the right underclothes, so she had me practice walking in her flat wearing the full costume – she dug out some skimpy black panties and a lacy black corset for me to wear under the dress. She seemed to find it something of a turn on seeing me dressed like this and made sure I was well rewarded for my efforts (but that's a separate story!) Anna was a little bemused by it all but worked hard at getting me into character.

By the time we were ready for the show I had the walk and other female mannerisms off pretty well. I thought I looked quite hot, even for a rugby player and, if truth be told, was rather enjoying the experience.

Anna's costume as the Prince, was an elaborate brocaded jacket; her long hair was swept back and retained by a velvet bow and of course her long legs were encased in sheer black stockings and tight knee high shiny black boots. She looked incredible. Cinders wore a white cheongsam style dress with a tight bodice and a tight skirt that came to just above her knees but was slashed on both sides almost to the waist exposing her blue garter and white stockings. She really did look hot...

The show ran for a week, finishing on the Saturday evening. It was a huge success and my entrance at the wedding always seemed to bring the house down. As usual, after the last performance we had a party. Most people changed out of costume, but Anna, Cinders and I decided to keep in character. So, I flounced around the room chatting up all of the men, some of whom seemed unexpectedly responsive to my advances, while Cinders and the Prince wandered around glued at the lips, which also got several male members of the cast rather steamed up.

By the time the party wound down, Cinders was quite tipsy and suggested we go to the pub next door, staying in costume. I wasn't sure, but Anna, who had put away a fair amount of alcohol herself was game so I gave in. My only concession was to change the beehive wig for one I wore earlier in the panto, with auburn hair halfway down my back. Without that I would never have got through the door. So prepared, we set off.

Our entrance was dramatic to say the least. After all, it isn't every day you see a 6 foot Amazon in thigh length boots walk into a pub, followed by a Regency dandy in boots and black stockings and a bride with veil and wedding bouquet, flashing her garter. After the first WTF as we walked in, we got a huge cheer. I led the way to the bar, wiggling my hips, closely followed by the other two. Strangely, I was the one who had to fend off most of the arse pinching. Staying in character I asked for a 'Long slow comfortable screw against the wall', a cocktail with gin, vodka, southern comfort, Galliano liqueur and orange juice. As you might expect, this provoked another rowdy outbreak. Keeping up their rôles, the Prince ordered a vodka martini and Cinders had champagne (well actually a disgusting fizzy concoction called Babycham made from pears but served in a champagne style flat goblet). The cocktail was disgusting but powerful and after a couple my inhibitions, such as they were, began to loosen.

I turned around and surveyed the room. By now most people were pretty drunk and the place was getting even rowdier. I could see that several men in the room were eyeing us up, including one group of three who kept looking over at us, then whispering amongst themselves.

I turned to Anna and Cinders – "I think we've scored" I said, indicating the group across the room. Anna laughed. "I didn't think you went for men" she said. "I'm not a lesbian" I replied in mock indignation. I was getting very drunk by now – the cocktails I had been drinking were very powerful!

"Come on, let's chat them up – it will be a good laugh," said Cinders. Anna was uncertain. "Come on Anna," she said, "when was the last time you had a good no holds barred fuck?" "Too long," she replied, "but this is just too bizarre. You are suggesting that the three of us go and chat up those three guys over there, but have you forgotten that Joe here, however sexy he looks is actually a bloke?" "I think they have worked that out too," said Cinders. "Doesn't seem to bother them. Look at them though – gorgeous they are."

"What about you Joe? Are you game for this"

"Yeah," I said drunkenly. "I can always make an excuse and leave." This was always the final line in the salacious reports in one popular Sunday newspaper of the time. Cinders laughed at that, but Anna didn't seem very amused.

By now, I was really getting into character again - and only partly because of the drink. I was mildly turned on by the attention I had got at the party and now in the pub. So, I sashayed across the room towards the three who had been watching us. "My friends over there think you are very attractive." I said.

The three were all very similar in size and build. About 6 foot in height with broad shoulders and massive torsos. All were clearly rugby players like me, although I didn't recognise them. One had light sandy hair, one was ginger and the other was dark haired, which in my drunken state was about the only way to tell them apart. "Which one?" said the dark haired one. "Does it matter?" I replied. "Nah" said Sandy.

I turned and waved Anna and Cinders over to the table. They looked at each other; Cinders started to move, and then waited for Anna. She shrugged and tagged along. As they came over, I slid into a seat next to Sandy, facing the other two, and then crossed my legs, flashing my panties at them and savouring the swishing sensation as my nylon clad legs rubbed together. I saw Ginger goggle at my legs, his eyes travelling up to my panties, then as Anna and Cinders sat down between Sandy and his friend, his eyes looked ready to pop.

The slits in Cinders' skirt exposed great lengths of shiny nylon with just a hint of bare flesh at the top, while Anna's jacket only just covered her arse, leaving nothing but panties, a flash of leg and then thigh high boots. The two of them were a fetishists wet dream - even I was getting a hard on, despite being bound into my costume. Sandy and his friend couldn't keep their eyes off the two of them and poor Ginger didn't know where to look.

"Come on boys", I snapped. "We girls need drinks."

"It's Ginger's round," said Sandy. "What will you have?" stammered Ginger.

"I'll have a long slow screw against the wall," I said huskily, doing a bit of a Dietrich impression. "Vodka martini" said Anna. "Champagne!" chimed in Cinders. Off went Ginger, walking carefully to conceal a painful looking erection in his tight jeans. I watched him to the bar, idly scanning his tight arse and broad shoulders. I looked back towards Anna and Cinders and realised they were watching me rather strangely. Ginger soon came back with the drinks, including a bottle of real champagne and distracted them before they could say anything further. Drunk as I was I realised I was heading into new territory for me. Anna merely lifted an eyebrow while Cinders whooped as she saw the bubbly.

Sandy's friend popped the cork and poured out a glass for each of us. We all clinked glasses. "Party on" shouted Cinders. I realised she was even drunker than me, and Anna wasn't much better, despite her disapproving looks. The three boys were also well away.

We chatted on, Sandy and his friend on either side of Anna and Cinders. Sandy's hand kept sliding along Cinders' thigh, heading for that small patch of bare flesh. She kept slapping it away, but I noticed it got further each time. Meanwhile his friend had his hand on Anna's leg, just above the boots. She made no effort to move it, while her own hand ran across his well-muscled chest. Poor Ginger just looked across at me wide eyed. Meanwhile from somewhere, I assume the three boys, the drinks kept coming and all of us got steadily drunker.

Someone left from the table behind me so I turned the chair around and patted the seat, inviting Ginger to sit beside me. He leapt across. I noticed his bulge was if anything even bigger. I leaned towards him and whispered in his ear "Nice package." Amazingly he blushed, his eyes on my fake tits. "I think you are beautiful," he stammered. I wasn't sure how to respond. Was he queer and coming on to me, or was he so drunk he didn't realise I was a bloke? I was wondering how to respond, when Anna leaned over.

"We are going back to Sandy's place. Are you coming with us?"

"Sure" I said, and as I did, Ginger leapt to his feet, almost knocking over the table. His friends laughed at his clumsiness and as they were distracted Anna leant over and whispered, "Are you sure?" "He's cute," I replied, surprising myself as much as her. She shrugged, then whispered something in Cinders' ear and she gave me a surprised look. "What?" I said.

We all left the pub, with me fending off most of the gropes as on the way in. Outside it was cold and as the cold air hit, I began to wonder what I was letting myself in for. "It's just round the corner, said Sandy, leading off, his arm around Cinders. Anna was on the other side, her arm also around Cinders' waist, her hand gently caressing her bum. I realised his friend was going in the opposite direction. "Isn't he joining us?" I asked.

"Nah - He has to get up at 4.00 am tomorrow to catch a flight to Australia so he's off home," said Sandy.

This was getting even more bizarre. There were now only five of us, three men and two women, but one of the men (me) was dressed as a woman and being chatted up by one of the other men (Ginger), while one of the women (Anna) was dressed as a man and was busily squeezing the arse of the other woman (Cinders) who was in turn necking with the other man (Sandy).

I briefly wondered if I should leave them to it, but then thought "What the hell. Its only kinky the first time." I slipped my hand though Ginger's arm and we stepped out behind the other three. It was quite something watching Cinders as she walked in front of us. The dress was tight across her backside, clearly defining her cheeks, each one swinging into prominence as she walked. Anna and Sandy each had a hand across her arse, their arms overlapping as if they were carrying her.

Despite my heels, Ginger was my height. I hung onto his arm and ran my other hand up his arm, feeling the definition of his muscles. He shivered and so did I but not from cold. He looked across at me, a strange expression on his face. He was about to say something when the others stopped and Sandy rummaged around in his pockets before finally producing a key. He opened the door and the three of them trooped in, Ginger and I following.

The flat was above a shop, so we all had to go up a narrow staircase. Sandy led the way followed by Anna, Cinders and Ginger, with me in the rear. As they went up I had the amazing site of Anna and Cinders, their backsides tightly encased, swinging from side to side as they negotiated the stairs, followed by the equally tightly wrapped arse of Ginger. I just stood for a second at the foot of the stairs watching, then gingerly followed them – I hadn't practiced stairs in my heels, so had to take them very gingerly.