Hot Sex Instead of Dancing Ch. 12

Please give me the support of your vote.

*

Wanting to look pretty, Walter has the uncontrollable urge to dress as a woman again.

Sunday, the day of rest, Walter reflected over all that happened during the weekend. Linda had hot sex with his three friends, Jim, Henry, and Tom. Tiffany abandoned wearing her sexy nightgown to clean her kitchen in her even more revealing short, low cut bathrobe. Then, standing by her kitchen window to see if he was there watching watching, she removed her bathrobe. His sexual fantasy come true, he saw Tiffany naked. Last but not least, Walter had hot sex not only with Linda's sister, his sexy, sister-in-law, Kathy, but also with Linda's mother, his MILF of a mother-in-law, Mary.

He couldn't believe all that's sexually happened in such a short time. Only, the sexual experience of having sex with Linda's sister and mother reawakened something hidden inside of Walter that had lay dormant for a very long time. With him thinking that his cross dressing days were over and that his psychological therapy had finally worked, it's been a very long time since he's felt the urge to dress as a woman. The urge to dress as a woman has always been there of course and he saved all of his cross dressing clothes while even buying new things that he'd love to wear but he refrained from dressing as a woman.

As if it happened yesterday, he remembered the first time he dressed as a woman. Thirty years ago, when he was 18-years-old, he'd wear his sister's and his mother's clothes whenever they weren't home and were gone for a while. Back then, with him thinking that his psychological therapy had worked and he was done wearing women's clothes, the death of his mother triggered the need in him to wear woman's clothes again. Now, in the way that the death of his mother triggered the need in him to wear women's clothes, strangely enough, having sex with his mother-in-law and his sister-in-law triggered the need in him to cross dress again.

He thought about all the psychological therapy his mother forced him to take with none of it working and doing him any good other than to make him feel bad about himself and guilty for lying to his psychologist. With so very many thoughts going through his mind, from his wife's gangbang, to Tiffany standing by her kitchen window naked, and to him having a threesome with Kathy and Mary, Walter lay in bed thinking about his mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Oddly enough, he thought more about the women's clothes than he did about their naked bodies when he was having sex with them. Oddly enough, he was more interesting in wearing their clothes than in having sex with them. Of course it sexually excited him to not only have sex with his mother-in-law but also his sister-in-law too but there was something, an added bonus, when touching and feeling their clothes.

With him sexually aroused on all fronts, with his fingers touching their cotton, rayon, nylon, and satin material in the way he fingered their nipples and fingered their pussy, their clothes strewn on the floor in a pile beckoned him. As if their clothes were the evidence left behind of the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz after being hit with water and melting, seemingly their rumpled clothes were the essence of them and who they were as women. In addition to having sex with just any two women, he had sex with his mother-in-law and his sister-in-law. In a sense of wanting to emulate them, control them, own them, and be more like them, he wanted to wear their clothes. In addition to wearing their clothes, he so wanted to have sex with them while wearing their clothes. If only he could, he would.

In the way that Al Pacino talked about the scent of a woman when he played Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade in Scent of a Woman, "Whoo-ah," Walter was more about the five senses of a woman than just one. With him seeing women in a different light than did most men, he was teetering on the line of masculinity and femininity. When he was with the two women, he couldn't help himself from burying his nose in their clothes. With their perfume, powder, and womanly scents intoxicating him and driving him mad with lustful, sexual desire, he couldn't help himself from smelling their blouses and their pants while touching and feeling their blouses and pants.

If only he could get away with it and if they weren't watching him, he'd sniff their panties. If only he could get away with it and if they weren't watching him, he'd sniff their high heeled shoes. With him having a hidden collection of each, he loved panties as much as he loved high heel shoes. Just touching their clothes while they wore their clothes, turned him on exponentially, as much as it sexually excited him to touch and to feel their bodies through their clothes while he kissed them and undressed them.

"Whoo-ah!"

* * * * *

If only they knew he was a cross dresser, he wondered what they'd think. If only they knew he was a cross dresser, he wondered what they'd say. If only they knew he was a cross dresser, he wondered what their reaction would be to him wearing women's clothes and to him wanting to wear their clothes while having sex with them. These were just any women, they were Linda's kid, sexy sister and her MILF of a mother.

He wondered if they'd be turned off or turned on that he enjoyed dressing as a woman. Maybe if either one or both had latent lesbian tendencies, they'd enjoy having sex with him when he was dressed in their clothes as a woman. Thinking that they didn't know any men who enjoyed dressing like a woman, perhaps they wouldn't have an opinion until they experienced him dressed as a woman while having sex with him.

There was a time when he was embarrassed to be caught dressed as a woman. There was a time where he'd be humiliated if anyone knew he enjoyed cross dressing. With him thinking that there was something mentally wrong with him, there was a time when he was embarrassed and felt shame to be dressed as a woman. There was a time, so long ago when he thought he was finally finished with cross dressing.

There was a time when he couldn't control himself from masturbating over and again while just thinking about dressing as a woman. Then, when he was dressed as a woman, the culmination of him wearing women's clothes was for him to cum. As if wanting to defile women with his cum, he couldn't stop himself from cumming all over their clothes while wishing he was there with them when dressed as a woman. With wearing women's clothes sexually exciting him so very much, he always masturbated himself while dressed as a woman.

Sadly, he's yet to find that one, special woman who'd encourage him to wear her clothes. He's yet to find that one, special woman who'd help him dress for him to look prettier when dressed as a woman. He's yet to find that one, special woman who'd take as much pride in him dressed as a woman as he'd take in himself. He'd love to find a woman who'd help him with his hair and with his makeup, the hardest two things for him to learn, to do, and to master. While dressed in his finest womanly clothes, he'd love to go out in public, even go dancing, with a woman who knew he was a man dressed as a woman.

Actually, not much of a stretch, even when he took his time with his hair and makeup, sadly and disappointingly, he never really looked like a woman. He always looked like a man dressed as a woman. It was always obvious, too obvious, painfully obvious, especially when he looked at himself in the mirror when dressed as a woman, that he was a man trying to masquerade as a woman. If he couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he was a pretty woman, how could he fool anyone into thinking that he was a pretty woman?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, he always felt tortured having these feelings but now that he's older, more embracing them than rejecting them, he more accepted himself for who he is, a cross dresser. So what? Mind your own business. As long as he's not hurting himself or someone else, it's none of anyone's business what he does behind his closed bedroom doors. Yet, even though he suspected his wife knew that he was a cross dresser, he somehow knew he'd hurt his wife if he paraded around her dressed as Wendy instead of Walter. Somehow, just as so many people don't understand his need to dress as a woman, he inherently suspected that she wouldn't understand his need to cross dress.

Perceiving himself as looking beautiful every time he took the time to do his hair, makeup, and pick out the perfect outfit that flattered his body, instead of looking sexy, he looked grotesquely funny. He more looked like a sideshow freak than he looked like a woman. Frustrated that he was unable to look as good as the image of the woman that he had in his head, always he'd smudge his lipstick across his face in absolute frustration. Always he'd rip the wig from his head and fling it across the room. While thinking himself sick, crazy, and/or possessed by the Devil, quickly he'd undress and store his clothes away in a box in the back of the closet while promising himself to never dress as a woman again.

Only, if he had any intention of keeping his promise to himself of never dressing like a woman again, he'd burn his womanly clothes instead of saving them. Yet, try and try again, no matter how many promises he's made to himself, that didn't stop him from wanting to dress as a woman again and again. No matter if he didn't look anything like a woman, that didn't stop him from wanting to look pretty. He always broke his promise with the justification that this time, he'll look pretty and this time he'll be happy with the result instead of being disappointed and feeling angry that he doesn't look anything like a woman.

Only now, it's not as much as how he looks when dressed as a woman as it is how he feels when dressed as a woman. When wearing women's clothes, he feels sexy. When wearing women's clothes, he feels alive. As if he's been plugged in, turned on, and electrified, he feels as if he was meant to wear women's clothes. Loving the feel of silk panties against his skin and coolly sliding against his cock, he enjoys feeling taller when wearing women's high heel shoes.

* * * * *

When he helped his MILF of a mother-in-law remove her blouse and pants, he couldn't help himself from imagining what it would feel like to wear her blouse and step into her pants. He'd have to wear a giant, padded bra to look anything like his mother-in-law with her massive D cup breasts. Wouldn't she have been surprised if he dressed himself in her clothes to look more like her? He wondered if she saw him dressed as her while wearing her clothes, if she'd be flattered or offended.

When he helped his sexy sister-in-law remove her blouse and pants, he so wanted to wear her blouse and pants. With Kathy so pretty, even prettier than her older sister, Linda, his wife, he'd have to take extra time on his hair and makeup to look anything like her. Wouldn't she have been surprised if he dressed himself in her clothes to look more like her? He wondered if she saw him dressed as her while wearing her clothes, if she'd be flattered or offended.

Oddly, enough, in the way he had the urge to wear his mother-in-law's clothes and his sister-in-law's clothes, he hasn't had the desire to wear Linda's clothes in nearly twenty years. He dressed in some of her things when they were first married, whenever she went out with her friends, her mother, and/or her sister and disappeared for hours at a time. Interestingly enough, with his wife's clothes readily available for him to wear whenever she wasn't at home, for some unexplained reason, he'd rather wear Tiffany's clothes than he'd want to wear his wife's clothes.

No doubt he wants to wear Tiffany's clothes because she has hot clothes. Tiffany has sexy clothes. Perhaps saving them in case her being married to Bill doesn't last and she has to work as a stripper again, Tiffany still has all of her stripper clothes stored away in boxes and hanging in her spare closet. In the way he'd love to do with Linda's mother and sister, he'd love to masturbate himself while wearing Tiffany's clothes. In the way he'd love to do with Linda's mother and sister, he'd love to make love to Tiffany while wearing her clothes. He'd love for Tiffany to not only give him a fashion show of her stripper clothes but also to dress him in her stripper clothes.

"Wow, how hot is that?" He imagining talking to Tiffany while wearing some of her sexy, stripper outfits. "What do you think of me now Tiffany? Am I pretty? Am I sexy?"

A sexy dresser, Tiffany is a woman who obviously enjoys being a woman and loves playing the role of a woman to the nth degree. She never confuses her sexual identity by wearing men's clothes, a man's shirt, a baggy sweatshirt, or even a baseball cap. She's all woman and with her being tall, beautiful, and shapely, what a woman she is. In the way that some women are sometimes mistaken being a man in the way they look, dress, walk, and/or talk, Tiffany would never be mistaken for a man. With her beautiful, black, stripper like body and her model like face, she's his female definition of a real woman.

She always looks so very feminine. She always looks so hot. She always looks so well put together. There hasn't been one time that he's seen her that he didn't want to have sex with her. To be honest, he couldn't say that about Linda.

"Now that I've seen her naked, naked, naked, I can't wait to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her. Mmm, mmm, mmm."

* * * * *

In all the years he's known Tiffany, he's never seen her look a disheveled mess in the way his wife looks early in the morning or late at night. When Linda awakens from a sound sleep, her hair is always a frightful, Bride of Frankenstein mess. With all of the hairspray she uses to hold her hair in place, she looks like she's dumped syrup on her head. In the way that her hair sticks to the side of her face on one side of her head and sticks up and out in the air on the other side of her head, suffice to say that she's not very attractive in the morning.

With him warding off the evil spirits and the Devil himself, he always has the urge to wear a necklace of garlic around his neck and carry a crucifix with him and hold it up to her. Just in case, better to be safe than sorry, he's sometimes had the urge to arm himself with a handgun that had silver bullets. He's even thought about wearing a tool belt with a hammer and spikes while holding a flask of holy water.

"Be gone Devil! What did you do with my wife? Oh, sick Satan, thou art so wicked! Take leave of my wife's body or I'll cast you out with my holy water and will burn the image of Jesus Christ, my Lord God Almighty, on your forehead."

"Walter? What the Hell are you going on about? Stop talking to yourself and get me some coffee. You know you can't talk to me until I've had a couple cups of coffee," said Linda pushing him out of the way. "Put the garlic back in the panty, you look ridiculous and smell even worse."

Imagining hearing Nightingales singing whenever she opens her big, beautiful, brown eyes, he imagined Tiffany waking up just as pretty as she went to bed. No matter what she did to her clothes and her hair, he'd never imagine Tiffany looking a frightful mess. After seeing her wearing so very many of her sexy nightgowns, a different nightgown every night, just once, he'd love to wear one of her sexy nightgowns. Just once he'd love to masturbate himself while wearing something that belonged to her. Just once, he'd love to try on that little bathrobe she recently wore to clean her kitchen before stripping that off too. Naked, he still couldn't believe he saw Tiffany cleaning her kitchen naked.

He imagine Tiffany stepping on rose pedals wherever she walked. He imagined an aura of light that illuminated her and embraced her as if she was the chosen one. He imagined hearing Angels singing every time she opened her eyes in the morning. Heralding her appearance, in the way when a baseball player steps up to the plate to hit, he imagined music playing her song every time she walked through a doorway. Unable for her to go for a swim, he imagined her being able to walk on water.

* * * * *

Only, he was starting to have those feelings again, the feelings that he had as an 18-year-old man whenever he was alone with his mother and sister's clothes. It's been quite a while since he dressed as a woman, since just after his mother died. It's been such a long time since he's had the urge to wear women's clothes. It's been quite a long time since he felt the need to feel pretty and even longer since he's felt pretty.

Now that his mother was dead, she could no longer call him her biggest disappointment when she caught him dressed in her clothes. Now that his mother is dead and buried in a ground that's as cold in death as she was in life, she could no longer judge him for who he really was, a cross dresser. Never understanding or accepting the responsibility that it was all of her fault that he was like this, she was such a critical, miserable bitch. No matter what he did or didn't do, he could never please her. Good riddance, bye and just die, now he understood why Norman Bates in Psycho killed his mother.

With her never proud of him and never happy with anything he did, he couldn't remember the last time she hugged him. He couldn't remember the last time his mother told him she loved him. He couldn't even remember the last time she had anything good to say about him or a kind word to say to him. He couldn't remember the last time she smiled at him instead of sneering at him while, no doubt, wishing he'd just go away, leave her house, and disappear forever.

"Bitch! She was such a miserable bitch," he said for no one to hear.

According to Shakespeare and Dr. Sigmund Freud, with so many sons wanting to murder their fathers to sleep with their mothers, if he dreamt of doing anything at all with his mother, he dreamt of killing her in her sleep.

"Die Mommy, die!"

After she divorced his father and threw him out of the house for cheating on her, who'd blame him for murdering her? He dreamt of holding her pillow over her mouth and nose. He dreamt of slitting her throat. When he had a dream of her that wasn't as homicidally violent, he dreamt of drugging her, stripping her naked, and leaving her in some public place where she'd be seen by hundreds maybe even thousands of people on their way to work. If he could, he'd suspend her naked and spread eagled body from the bridge over the expressway.

"The traffic report for today is that the traffic is very light but for the expressway where a naked woman suspended spread eagled from a bridge over the expressway has brought traffic to a crawl."

Not even considering his own embarrassment, he remembered wanting to appear downstairs at one of her famous, drunken bridge parties just to embarrass her. They were all a bunch of hens clucking while playing cards and drinking until they were all drunk. He could only imagined the shocked look on all of her friends' faces. His mother would be mortified. She'd be humiliated. No doubt throwing him out of her house, and the reason why he didn't do it, she'd be so very angry with him.

He thought of the movie, Harold and Maude, where Harold routinely feigned committing suicide to get his mother's attention. Only, in the way that Harold's mother was always sincerely upset that her son routinely pretended to kill himself, his bitch of a mother wouldn't be upset at all that he wanted to die. If anything, she'd be happy that he was dead. In the way that Harold's mother found him lying in a pool of fake blood, or suspended from the ceiling with a rope around his neck, or witnessed him shooting himself on the front lawn with a fake gun, his mother would celebrate his death. In the way she ridded her life of his father without tears, sadness, regret, or remorse, his selfish, cold bitch of a mother would, no doubt, be relieved that her cross dressing son was dead.