When the fateful day arrived, I packed my bag of women's clothing andprepared for the drive down to the salon. The drive went quickly, and Ifelt a sen...e of both excitement and dread as I contemplated what I wasabout to do. Several questions came to mind, was I gay? Did I actuallywant to be a woman? Why did I want to do this? I arrived at the addressand parked in the rear. I grabbed my bag and entered the store. Ientered what appeared to be a high end women's boutique. There wereracks of fancy. She hurries to put on the blindfold realising that she will not be able to do this once her wrists are cuffed. She then struggles to cuff her wrists without the power of sight. At last she manages to do it and kneels down on the floor, head bowed, in full view of the door to await her fate...?It seems like an eternity before her ears pick up the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside and the sound of the key card being used in the lock, heart hammering she realises that she is no longer. . she hadn't even had time to put on a bra.As she drove her mini-van from the house to the gym, she admitted to herself that not wearing a bra wasn't so bad. The inside of the sweatshirt was soft and fuzzy; it tickled her nipples and made them stand at attention. And her shorts were loose enough that she could let her fingers sneak up her legs and touch herself while she waited at an extra-long traffic light.As she looked down at the two college age boys in the car next to her she wondered if. He was caught up by her bright face, with her high cheek bones and inviting lips, her features where corresponding, from her wide open eyes to her slightly pointed nose. She was what he thought of when Coale had asked him all those months ago if he had ever looked for love.“What about them?” he found himself asking as he tilted his head in the girls direction. Coale looked over his shoulder for a second before shaking his head.“No, I don’t think so. They don't look like a pair of well to do.
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All readers can get in touch with me via email at nine_inch69 at indiatimes dot com. This is a story about a milking housewife I meet during early par
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