Thanks as always to Ang, the Sweltering Celt, bringer of weekly Microfantasy Monday goodness. The theme this week is Role Reversal.
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I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head, seriously questioning my agreement to her. However, as much as I didn’t want to be seen in public like this, I wasn’t going to back out of it now. That’s one of the things she counts on, my almost pathological inability to back down from a dare.
How many times had I sung the praises of butch chivalry from the side of the butch? Too many times to count and she’d finally turned to me, challenge in her eyes, and said “I guess I won’t know until I try it.” I agreed at the time, not realizing that it wasn’t just an offhand comment. That was months ago, and in the time between that conversation and now, she’d been steadily whittling away at my resistance. And here I was, loosening another button to expose more cleavage and inspecting my eyes carefully, worried that the mascara would get into my eyes and irritate my contacts. I rubbed my chin, marveling at it’s smoothness and stepped back to see the whole effect. Skirt, hose, dressy boots. I glanced down ruefully, wondering how long it’d take for my leg hairs to grow back.
I heard a gasp behind me. She’d cheated and snuck in to get a peak. I turned around and my jaw dropped as well. She was stunning in my dress shirt and tie, and I grinned as I glanced down to see the bulge. Her long blond hair was pulled up and tucked under a fedora, her eyes smoldering from under its brim.
Words spilled from both of us in a rush, tumbling over each other in our haste.
“Oh, love!” … “Damn, you’re sexy…” “.. I had no idea ..” “Wow”
With difficulty, I held myself in check, and in moments she was pulling me against her. I could feel her cock pressed against my groin and her hands tightly gripping my arms. She uttered a half groan, half growl that connected with my cunt, causing my knees to weaken. She lowered her head, clearly aiming for my exposed chest.
I leaned away from her, giving her a reproving look, “Slow down, tiger, I’ve spent an hour making this happen, at least do me the favor of taking me out for a while and show me some of that butch chivalry before you ravish me.”
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Damn, beautiful, what a sexy image of the two of us…except you left out a few things…
…it’s not just your leg hair that will need to grow back… 😉
🙂
She definitely has you wrapped around her little finger. Can’t say I would do this for anyone.
absolutely wonderful!
Hot! The beauty of fantasy is that you can explore things you wouldn’t do (at least, not yet. lol)
Well written, sir. ^_^
The joy of fantasy – that was hot, and enjoyable. And then, there;s always Tuesday…
I had to wonder, as I read this for the first time last night, if you had as much trouble envisioning yourself in this situation as I did mine. I know (something) of your proclivities—that you embrace your “woman-ness” and are more open to exploration (oh, forgive the language here) than my tendency toward “stone butches,” but I had to believe that were you to actually attempt this you would feel as awkward and uncomfortable in a dress and heels as I would with a silicone dick sticking out of my groin! Most excellent job though…Blazer said we both hit it out of the ballpark and whenever my writing is mentioned in conjunction with yours, I feel as though I’m in good company indeed. 🙂
Wow, that is an interesting chain of comments. I would have thought differently, reading both of your writings.
There is an old joke that if you try your wife’s clothes on, you’re a cross-dresser; if you keep them on for half an hour, you’re a transvestite; if you keep them on all day you’re a transexual.
I think that the ability to be comofortable in another sexuality depends, more than anything, on the person you are with. They must be supportive and must be in the same mental space. They have to supply the masculinity to your feminity, or vice-versa, and they have to understand and appreciate what you go through to be the new person you want to be. You both have to have the “willing suspension of disbelief” that all theater requires, for that’s what I always thought it was – the ultimate method-acting exercise.
If you feel embarassed or uncomfortable then it’s the wrong thing to do, however the fantasy reads. It takes a long time to be comfortable with the sexuality you were born with – it shouldn’t be a surprise that it is even harder to accept a different one.
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