Stockings , Stalkings Pt. 01

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Giselle applied the clear topcoat to her ruby-red lipstick; she pursed her lips as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“There; finally finished,” she smiled to herself.

It had taken Giselle nearly one hour to transform from ‘Gary’, her male alter-ego, into Giselle, the hot transvestite staring back at her from the mirror. She smiled to herself as she considered all the preparation work she had undertaken to transform herself from Gary to Giselle. The close face shaving, the careful application of foundation, powder and makeup; the carefully considered lingerie, shoes, wig, jewellery, accessories and elegant cocktail dress she had laid out on the bed. Also, earlier in the day she had shaved her body from toes to neck as she did twice a week on Saturdays and Wednesdays; this was part of Giselle’s ritual.

Giselle had read stories on various TG and sex story websites where the plot involved some guy being kidnapped or forced to transform or some guy who suddenly decided to dress up using his sister’s or mother’s clothes and invariably the results were stunning. Giselle knew how ridiculous these storylines where; at best you might get a decent looking hairy panty-wearer or HPW as they are sometimes derogatory referred to by passable CDs and TVs. Being a part-time TV is actually a high maintenance activity; it’s not just a matter of stepping into hose, lingerie, heels, wig and makeup. Giselle knew that being a convincing crossdresser was an art.

“But worth it,” Giselle smiled to herself again.

Giselle was in her late thirties and had been ‘seriously’ crossdressing for five years; ever since Gary’s wife had left him and moved overseas with, how cliché, his best friend. Prior to this Gary had been a closet crossdresser; a real HPW, but when his wife left him Gary was able to develop Giselle the way he wanted to. He began to shave his body all over, he could use depilatory cream rather than shave, and indeed he did use Veet in the crevice between his buttocks where it was impossible to shave, but he actually loved the luxuriousness of laying in a hot bath and shaving from toe to temple.

When he slid into sheer stockings or pantyhose and satin panties, slips and lingerie; the feel of the slinky garments against his freshly shaved skin was exquisite.

Gary was also able to expand his wardrobe and acquire an extensive wig collection, purchase expensive makeup and perfumes, and of course buy a nice collection of high-heels.

Gary had perfected the art of crossdressing; he knew how to dress to make Giselle look feminine and sexy. Gary felt so femme, so sexy, so comfortable when he dressed as Giselle and he transformed as often as he could. Gary had few friends and rather than go out to the pub or socialise he preferred to stay at home and dress as Giselle. Giselle had a homepage at TVChix and a few other select crossdressing sites. Giselle knew she was to some extent gender dysphoric but hadn’t bothered exploring the condition other than following a few online blogs. She was just happy being Giselle. She posted tasteful pictures of herself online, every transvestite wants to be admired after all, but she didn’t participate in any of the sexual tomfoolery that went on by some participants.

Her profile was specifically annotated ‘Not Looking to Meet!’ Giselle was not interested in meeting other TVs or the males that chased them, Admirers she knew they called themselves; although she did feel sexy sometimes when dressed, she did not have a compunction to engage in sex. The very thought of touching another penis, be it an Admirer or another TV, made her feel nauseous.

Of course she occasionally masturbated whilst dressed as Giselle, and she often did this whilst looking at pictures of other TVs, but she was repulsed by CD and TV pornography. She had occasionally looked at the videos of transvestites lifting their skirts and raising their derrieres to some faceless man with an enormous erection or suckling a man’s penis like it was an all day sucker, but these images only made her feel a little defiled. Giselle was convinced that she was still heterosexual; although she hadn’t been with a woman since her wife left home.

But over the years Gary had developed a compunction to go out dressed; to experience the freedom of being out in public dressed as Giselle. She felt exhilarated at very thought of being in some smoky nightclub where other transvestites would be jealous of her looks and where men would lust after her, but be unable to engage her. It was a fantasy that tonight would come true.

Giselle had scouted out a gay bar that purported to be transgender friendly that was only fifteen miles from her abode. It was called ‘Sinsations’ and Giselle had scrupulously checked and rechecked their webpage and any blogs to do with the place and had visited the club in drab as Gary and had decided it was the safest place nearby where Giselle could ‘come out’.

And so here she was; checking herself out in the mirror, Ümraniye Esmer Escort nervous as hell but the most excited she had been for years; anticipating a night at Sinsations!

Giselle was wearing a long-sleeved black cocktail dress; the bodice and skirt were form-fitting cotton-lycra, the sleeves and bust black lace. The hem rested six inches above her knees, not micro-mini, but short enough to show off her well-formed pins. She had selected simple black, patent leather, four-inch high-heels, sheer flesh-toned stockings, a brunette bob with subtle highlights, her makeup was heavy but appropriate for a nightclub. Thick eyeliner, lashings of mascara, striking eyeshadow, plum-red lipstick and matching nailpolish; elegant silver jewellery and accessories. She looked hot, she thought, as she pirouetted in front of the mirror. Her hem lifted just enough to show off her red satin panties; she had deliberately chosen them to contrast the rest of her black ensemble. It would be her little secret: red satin full-cut panties, matching red satin bra and a red and black lace suspender belt. No one would see them tonight but she felt so naughty wearing them. She spun around again and this time the welts of her stockings and the garters of her suspender belt were plainly in view.

“Very naughty Giselle,” she giggled to herself.

Giselle had online friendships with some other TVs at TVChix and selected transgender bloggers and shared her fantasy of going out dressed with some of these online friends. Inevitably some of these TVs had come on to her and offered sexual encounters and Giselle had immediately ‘unfriended’ them; she had never responded to any of the Admirers who had tried to chat her up. To the few remaining online friends she had left to chat with she had announced her intention to attend Sinsations nightclub this Saturday night and in a pique of vanity she had posted on her wall ‘Intend to come out at Sinsations this Saturday – platonic friendships will be considered’.

“Stuck up cunt!” Steve hissed to himself when he read Giselle’s post.

Steve was a fifty-something TV Admirer; he trolled the TV websites looking to meet up with attractive TVs. He’d had many a satisfying encounter with many of them and had always behaved like a gentleman; even when he was fucking them doggy-style and slapping their arses.

He was fascinated by Giselle and had tried to contact her on numerous occasions. Her posts were quite chaste and her pictures, although arousing to him, were very modest compared to most trannies who often posted xxx pictures of themselves. Giselle’s pictures were more glamour shots than anything approaching pornography. But she fascinated him. She was stunning! Mature, but very attractive, amazing legs, round – firm sexy buttocks, pretty face; just his taste. He wanted her!

Steve slipped the tight black T-shirt over his torso, he was wearing black jeans and desert boots, sometimes referred to as ‘brothel-creepers’. He was clean-shaven and smelt of expensive aftershave and a hint of tobacco. He was dark and attractive and possessed a pleasant demeanour which women, and transvestites, found charming.

But tonight he wanted Giselle; and he knew where she would be. He lit a cigarette, flicked his luxurious black mane one more time in the mirror and went downstairs and out the front door to his car.

The tricky part for Giselle was how she was going to get to Sinsations; it was fifteen miles from where she lived and there was no way she was going to sit in a taxi dressed in drag for the journey. Besides; she would still have to walk from her front door to the kerb to get to the cab and it was highly likely that a neighbour would see her. Giselle was totally paranoid that her secret crossdressing existence would be discovered. Gary was an executive at a lucrative financial institution and he imagined the horror of being discovered or outed. He would have to quit because of the shame, even if he weren’t fired which was highly likely.

This also ruled out driving to the venue in Gary’s car; the fear of being seen by someone who knew him whilst driving on the open roads or probably worse, someone he knew spotting his car in the parking a lot of a gay venue.

But Giselle had a plan. Gary had been restoring a late 1970’s Ford Cortina and it was now in a drivable condition. It was his hobby but he had kept it to himself and the car had been kept in the garage ever since he’d bought it home over a year ago. No one he knew would recognise it.

Giselle opened the connecting door from the hallway to the garage and her heels click-clacked on the concrete floor. She was nervous but also very excited. She opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, carefully smoothing her dress under her bottom; she kicked off her heels and started the car. She clicked the garage door opener and the door slowly rose revealing the dark street. Having thought of everything, Gary had even isolated the overhead Ümraniye Eve Gelen Escort light that usually came on when the door opener was clicked.

Giselle smiled to herself and drove out of the garage and down the street; her anxiety turned to exhilaration once she was a few streets distant from her house. She concentrated on her driving; she did not want to get pulled over for a traffic violation (but she did play out the fantasy of a handsome young policeman pulling her over, flirting with her and letting her go because she was so attractive – it was a harmless daydream and she giggled to herself).

“Giselle! Stop dreaming and concentrate on your driving!” she admonished herself; but she was smiling as she said it.

Steve was waiting for Giselle at Sinsations parked in his car with a view of the door. The door was guarded by two heavily built security guys dressed in black with their company logo displayed on the chest of their shirts. Steve had been to Sinsations many times and had successfully pulled a few trannies there; he knew the security guys were really pretty friendly and were there just to keep the riffraff and drunkards out not to hassle the customers.

Steve smoked in silence; he didn’t even turn on the radio, he was fixated on the door and nearby carpark; he did not want to miss Giselle.

When luck is on your side than luck is on your side! Steve grinned when he saw the elegant transvestite getting out of the old Cortina. She was obviously unused to getting out of the car whilst dressed as a woma. She sat half out of the car struggling to put on her high-heels that she had removed for the drive. Her skirt was spread wide and although it was too dark to see much, Steve could see the sheen of her nylons on her thighs. He felt an erection tightening the fabric of his pants and he had to adjust himself.

He watched her lock the car; his eyes locked on her luscious arse when she bent over and then his eyes followed her as she tottered to the door of the nightclub. Steve grinned.

“Oh my what a bonus!” he sniggered to himself and reached in the back of his car for the small toolbox he kept there.

Steve was a mechanic and he knew exactly what he was going to do.

“Easy, peasy, Japanesey,” he whispered and walked confidently over to the Cortina as if he had every right to be there.

Giselle was nervous as hell as she walked over to the door of Sinsations. She’d practiced walking in heels hundreds of times at home but that was on carpet and tiles; the asphalt in the carpark was uneven and potholed and she struggled a bit until she got to the smooth concrete apron surrounding the club.

She preened a little and then walked boldly up to the door; her heels clicking and clacking; she felt very femme and strangely confident.

“In for a penny,” she whispered and strode up the entrance.

The security guys gave her an appreciative look which she quite liked and she stopped and rummaged around in her handbag looking for her purse; she knew there was a £10 cover charge because she had had to pay it when she had visited the club as Gary.

“No charge for you luv,” one of the doormen said.

She felt their eyes on her behind as she walked confidently into the club and she wriggled her buttocks cheekily. She was finding out that she quite liked being admired.

“Suppose that’s why they call ’em Admirers,” she giggled.

Giselle was absolutely astounded at how well she was received when she entered the club. A couple of T-Girls she had met online came over and introduced themselves and invited her to sit with them in their booth.

Giselle had a wonderful time, she limited her drink intake because she had to drive, but she still had a good buzz going and everyone was so friendly. She danced with a couple of the trannies and got hit on repeatedly by Admirers who she graciously turned away. Some of the other transvestites did dance with the admirers and some split off and sit with a guy who she would later leave with.

Giselle was a little shocked when she went for a wee and witnessed a tranny named Gabby, whom she had met earlier, emerge from one of the toilet cubicles followed by a man who was zipping his fly over what was obviously a deflating erection.

“Thanks luv,” he patted Gabby on her ample behind and left the toilet.

Gabby just smiled at her and stood at the mirror adjusting her makeup; her lipstick was almost gone and Giselle knew how she had lost it. Gabby pulled a little bottle of mouthwash out of her purse; gargled and rinsed.

“I can’t take him home and he can’t take me to his place either so what’s a girl to do?” Gabby smiled.

Giselle had an image of Gabby sitting on the toilet with her skirt hiked up while the admirer poked at her mouth with his erect penis until Gabby guided it between her lips and gave it a good sucking. She shuddered.

When she got back to the booth she told Stephanie, a recently Ümraniye Evi Olan Escort made friend, about the incident.

“We don’t take inventories here Giselle. Everyone does their own thing. Some girls like guys, some girls like the other girls, and others like you are just into dressing platonically,” she explained.

Giselle nodded, it was hard to talk over the loud music, and she decided not to let the incident spoil her night, even when she saw Gabby follow another bloke into the toilet about an hour later.

Steve watched Giselle with fascination. Fuck she was hot! Those heels, stockings and that great arse! She was obviously a bit awe-struck at first but she soon became confident, dancing and chatting with the other trannies. He smiled to himself when she turned away the stream of admirers who tried it on with her. He knew from her online blogs she was not up for meeting guys but he was still a little jealous. She was fresh meat and she was sexy as hell so she drew the tranny-lovers like moths to a flame.

“You won’t be saying no to me later girly,” he sneered to himself as he sat quietly drinking a beer.

Towards the end of the evening a plump tranny he knew as Gabby came over and sat down next to him. She stroked his cock through his jeans and stuck her tongue in his ear.

“Fancy a blow job?” she smiled at him, squeezing his cock.

“Fuck off fatty!” he replied harshly.

He saw the look of hurt on her face and it turned him on even more; he was not usually cruel man but Giselle had got to him and he wanted to not just fuck her, but humiliate her.

“You didn’t say that two weeks ago when you shagged me in your car!” Gabby spat at him, hauling herself out of her chair and pulled a face at him before sauntering off.

Usually he would have let her blow him in toilet or fuck her outside in his car if there was nothing better around but tonight he was saving himself for Giselle.

Giselle had had a great time and around midnight decided she really should be going. She was still very excited about being out dressed for the first time but knew she should leave now and drive home. She said farewell to the little circle of transvestites she had met that night and headed out.

“Come again luv,” the doorman said to her and she took the compliment and tottered back to her car.

Steve watched her leave and as soon as she got into her car he raced to his own vehicle and pulled out behind her following at a safe distance; he didn’t want her to see him and become suspicious. He noticed she drove carefully; obviously not wanting to be pulled over whilst dressed in drag.

Steve had rigged her car so that the engine should starve for fuel somewhere between five and ten miles down the road. It was not an exact science but sure enough about seven miles down the road he saw her slow down and pull into a deserted layby. His plan had worked perfectly.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giselle pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

The one contingency she hadn’t thought of was a breakdown and now her car’s engine had stalled and she’d just made it into the rest stop before it ran out of momentum. She tried the ignition a few times but the fucking thing wouldn’t start. Giselle stopped trying to start the car afraid she would run down the battery.

“Fuck it! I’ll just have to call a cab,” she said to herself in darkened vehicle.

Then she saw a set of headlights in her rear vision and watched as another car pulled into the rest stop and parked behind her. She shielded her eyes as she carefully watched the car. The headlights dimmed and she saw the door open and a slim man dressed in dark clothing exit the car.

Giselle was scared shitless. She decided in an instant that she would try to pass herself off as a damsel in distress. She looked very femme and the rest stop was so dark she thought she might just carry it off.

The car that was parked behind hers headlights went off and when Giselle turned off her own headlights the rest stop was almost pitch black. The rest stop was briefly illuminated by the interior lights of car parked behind her when Steve opened the door and was then again pitch black when he exited the car and closed the door. Steve crunched across the cold gravel and opened the passenger door to Giselle’s car and slid into the passenger seat beside her and closed the door.

“Look love; I’m a mechanic. You are obviously in need of some help here; but so am I,” he winked at her.

“A little slap and tickle; nothing you don’t feel comfortable with and I’ll have you on the road in no time,” he grinned.

Giselle felt a shiver run through her but what could she do? Call the AA in the early hours whilst dressed in drag and use Gray’s AA card?

“So what have you got to show me love?” he smiled and reached up and turned on the dome light.

He was looking down and staring brazenly at where her skirt had slightly ridden up her thighs. The thought of offering Steve any form of sexual favour had been the furthest thing from Giselle’s mind but it was obvious what Steve was expecting. She couldn’t show him her breasts because even in the dim light of interior car light it would be obvious they were fake so Giselle improvised. She flashed him her biggest smile.

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