Part II: Happier Hour

Part I: Happy Hour

Part III: Reality

The excitement of Carla’s trist with Chelsea and Jenna began to fade as Carla realized it was already late into the evening and she needed to get home. Carla slipped out of her lingerie and crotch ripped pantyhose and changed back into his suit and tie. He then went into the bathroom, grabbed a washrag and scrubbed every last bit of makeup off of his face thinking of excuses he could tell his wife Amy for his tardiness without even a phone call.

“Let’s do this again,” a cleaned-up Carl said to the two satisfied crossdressers and still high from their foray with Carla.

“Anytime,” Jenna responded as she and Chelsea walked him out the door along with giving a peck on the cheek, which Carl quickly wiped away.

Carl walked back to the garage just a few blocks away, got into his car and into a panic. “Let’s see, we had a crisis at the bank and an emergency meeting that lasted hours,” he thought to himself as the excuse he was going to tell his wife. “Yep, I’ll stick with that.”

He arrived home to a visibly angry Amy as he walked through the door.

“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick!” Amy said. “You don’t even answer your phone?”

Carl, realizing he left his cell phone at the office, was at a loss. “I’m so sorry dear.”

He proceed to tell his lie about how he had spent the last few hours, obviously omitting the details about the romp in his lingerie and pantyhose with two crossdresser he had just met at that time. Amy listened, appearing to believe every word, but really knew Carl well enough to tell the signs of when he lied.

“Well, OK, next time call though please,” Amy responded with a noticeable change in tone from anger to sympathy. Carl believed his story had worked and was off the hook but, little did he know, Amy was on to his scent. Quite literally, too, as she could smell traces of perfume on him, yet she didn’t say a word. Instead, she would be doing a little detective work on her own.

The very next day, Carl left for work, business as usual. Amy, however, had her own plan to leave their daughter, Sara, with their neighbor for a couple hours, then see what Carl was really up to after work. As the hour where Carl left approached, Amy positioned herself, parked in her car, and with a clear view of the entrance of his bank.

Like clockwork, Carl exited and made his was up the block towards the garage. Amy got out of the car and followed closely on foot but out of his view. By coincidence, and perhaps bad luck, Jenna and Chelsea just happened to be along the way in Carl’s walk to the garage.

“Hello darling,” Jenna said to Carl, who gives each a warm kiss on the cheek. The sight of the two in their skin-tight dresses, sexy shiny pantyhose and stilettos gave him chills of excitement just like the previous day.

“Shall we have a quick drink?” Carl asked the two pointing to the patio bar just in front of them. “Oh, I mean screwdriver,” he added flirtatiously. Chelsea and Jenna took him up on the offer. Amy, heart dropped to the floor, stood in a hidden spot across the street and looked on.

As the three seated themselves and ordered a round of screwdrivers, Carl couldn’t help but to slide his hands, caressing the pantyhose on the legs of Chelsea and Jenna who were to either side of him. Jenna instinctively reached down his pants and discovered he had on a pair of Wolford Neon pantyhose as she playfully pulled the waistband up and out of his pants.

“You naught girl you,” Jenna said the Carl, still with a grip on the waistband.

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Part I: Happy Hour

Part II: Happier Hour

“Don’t you look delicious,” Chelsea whispered to Carla, who just exited the bathroom.

“Oh really?” responded Carla, bashfully.

Jenna walked over from the kitchen with a stiffly made screwdriver in each hand and handed one to the both. She then took a quick glance at the sexy bra, panty and pantyhose ladened Carla and gave her a flirty nod of approval before returning to the kitchen for her own drink.

Meanwhile, Chelsea sat herself down comfortably on the sofa and motioned for Carla to join her, who did not hesitate to take a seat right next to her. Chelsea then began to caress the Wolford pantyhose covering Carla’s thigh.

“So you obviously like dressing up. What else do you like?” Chelsea asked with a grin then taking a large gulp of her screwdriver.

Jenna, meanwhile, sat herself on the other side of Carla and ran her hand through her wig, just to let her know she was there and also awaiting the response to Chelsea’s question.

“Well, for starters…,” Carla said beginning her lifelong story of the extreme lingerie and pantyhose fetishes and all the fantasies she had in them. She rambled on and on, nearly killing the sensual mood between the three. Luckily, the screwdrivers were keeping Chelsea and Jenna afloat, but just barely. That was until Carla got to the part about her fantasy being pantyhose bound and raped.

Chelsea’s and Jenna’s faces lit up.

“Well, we happen to like that too dear,” said Jenna, who got up clutching Carla’s hand and lightly pulling her towards her and Chelsea’s bedroom. Chelsea got up and followed them into the bedroom, drink in hand.

“Lie down on the bed,” said Jenna, to which Carla happily obliged.

Jenna then went to a drawer pulling out several pairs of worn pantyhose. Chelsea put her drink down, kicked off her stiletto heels then slipped out of her black minidress revealing a stylish black camisole, thong panties and, of course, her own natural shade of Wolford pantyhose underneath. She then grabbed a pair of the worn hose from Jenna and began tying up Carla’s legs wrapping them tight.

Chelsea took another pair of the hose and tied up Carla’s wrists behind her, then stuffed the last pair entirely into her mouth.

“Oh look, isn’t she so cute,” Jenna said to Chelsea with a wink. Carla was enjoying every moment letting out a girly whimper to communicate her joyously bound predicament. Jenna then slipped out of her own heels and dress revealing a more slutty blue shelf bra, exposing her “breasts,” a matching thong and the seemingly required pantyhose, her brand being Pierre Mantoux.

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Part 1: Happy Hour

Carl was just finishing up his work at the National Bank downtown. Normally, he would just get in his car and drive home but this particular day had taken a toll. Refinancing, mortgages and loan defaults… pretty much all of the negatives of his job happened to have come in a flood to which he grudgingly worked through it all.

Relieved after exiting his work, he made his way to the bar just a block away and ordered a stiff martini to unwind. Not a frequent occurrence since, besides not being much of a drinker, he had a wife and a five year old daughter waiting for him when he arrived home. He, however, sipped his martini without even a wince as if he’s done it at the end of every day of his career.

Truly tempted for another stiff martini, Carl exercised his restraint, paid for his drink and exited the bar. On his walk to the parking garage, though, he encountered a pair of provocatively dressed women who he could tell were transvestites, albeit very beautiful and convincing ones at that. Normally, he would have given them a flirtatious wink and walk right past.

This time, given his slightly inebriated state, he stopped in front of the two noticing their lovely legs in pantyhose and striking high heels.

“Wow, I just love those heels!” he exclaimed, not to either one in particular, and succeeding with his “pick-up” line as the two transvestites looked back at Carl, utterly flattered.

You see, underneath the suit and tie of that nine-to-five day worker hid the other side of Carl, Carla by his (or shall we say, her) own naming, and her oh-so guilty pleasure of closet crossdressing. She loved it all: lingerie, pantyhose, dresses, wigs, makeup, you name it. She could wear them like a pro, or like the two beauties in front of her.

Acting out her own crossdressing fantasies, however, turned out to be quite the challenge. Carl’s wife, Amy, was a very conservative woman who was the type that would never deviate from the same missionary sex, over and over. That meant no toys, no doggie-style and definitely no crossdressing on the part of Carla.

Carla even went as far as to keep her entire wardrobe of women’s clothes, underwear, shoes and accessories in her secret rental storage space nearby where he worked downtown. There was no way in hell she would let Amy or his daughter catch her in the act at home. Unfortunately, this also meant her crossdressing was strictly kept to the confines of the storage where she would pose dolled up in front of the mirror installed on a wall and wank one out before she left.

Yet given Carl’s schedule at work and his duties at home, times where he could escape as Carla were few and far between. As well, his sexual frustration for his beloved fetishes often mounted day by day to the point where it completely obsessed his mind and he was likely to do something out of character, which really meant against the conservative nature of his wife’s wishes.

Take, for example, drinking a martini and chatting up a pair of transvestites…

Chelsea and Jenna introduced themselves to Carl while giggling in their flattery of his flirty comment.

“Oh, and I love men in suits,” Chelsea says while flirtatiously grabbing Carl’s tie and pulling it toward her.

Jenna followed her lead, gently touched Carl’s face and asked, “So like like us ‘girls,’ don’t you?”

“If you only knew,” Carl replied. “It’s my dream to look as gorgeous as the both of you.”

Chelsea and Jenna stared back at Carl, speechless but curious.

Carl, meanwhile, couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. Then again, he couldn’t believe the two were flirting back at him which excited him like nothing ever before. Against all his instincts as the straight and narrow husband and father, he decided to see where this could lead.

“Can I invite you ladies for a drink?” he asks them.

Jenna didn’t hesitate,”Sure, let’s go to The Vine just down the street.” Chelsea silently agrees. No need to convince Carl.

The three then proceeded to walk The Vine bar, an easygoing place for all walks of life with Carl ordering his second martini and Chelsea and Jenna ordering each a screwdriver. Then, as if he were seated on a therapist’s sofa, Carl proceeded to tell his whole life’s confessions on his crossdressing fetish. Everything from stealing his mother’s pantyhose as a kid to her fantasies of trists with other crossdressers bound and gagged and, yes, even her secret storage stash located nearby.

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