Coming Out – Charlene’s Story

Charlene’s story

 

As every cross dresser is aware, the wearing of female clothing behind closed doors is very much an escapist existence. Once dressed as a woman a TV can enter into feminity in secluded bliss for as long as he/she as time.


But “Coming Out” is a different matter entirely. It takes courage, conviction and painstaking detail for a TV to be thoroughly convinced that he could pass as a girl in the outside world. One mistake could lead to embarrassment, confusion and even hostility from an unaware stranger.

A friend of mine, Charles, is one of the most convincing cross dressers I have ever seen. When dressed as Charlene, he transforms himself from a good looking black guy into a ravishing, slender woman, with dusky looks and a curvy figure.


To look at Charlene’s confident sashay, wearing the most revealing and figure hugging of dresses, one would never imagine for one moment the first “outing” by Charlene involved nerves and unbridled anxiety.


Charlene tells her own story:-

I’d been dressing up since I was nine, mostly in my sister’s clothes and then later on my mum’s, as I grew taller. By the time I was nineteen I was going out with a guy called Peter, whom I’d met through a contact magazine.


I had a collection of underwear, nightdresses and a couple of dresses. I even had my own false boobs. But I had never gone outside as a girl. The girl’s clothes were just part of my life with Peter – he used to get really excited to see me wearing lingerie, or a baby doll nightdress.


One evening, I was sitting in his flat with him, just having a couple of drinks, and chatting. I was wearing a white lace bodyshaper, underneath a silky chemise wrap that I had bought that afternoon. The bodyshaper was with under wired cups, which pushed up my shapely false breasts.


Feeling relaxed from the two glasses of wine I had drunk, and also from being in these clothes, I just giggled when Peter casually mentioned that “it was about time I went outside as a girl”. I didn’t really take in what he was saying until he got up, and announced that he was going to “phone for a taxi, and that we were going into town”. I looked at him the sudden reality of what was going through his mind suddenly sank in. I said (stupidly): “I’ll have to get changed first”. He laughed, and leaned over to plant a kiss on my mouth.


“Don’t you think it’s time that other people than myself saw how good you look dressed up?” he said. “All you have to do is put on a frock, and do your face over. You can be ready in half-an-hour?”


I repeated shrilly, “Don’t be stupid, Peter. Look dressing up in here with you is one thing, but outside? What of someone guesses? I could be locked up, beaten up or worse!”


But underneath my babbling, I was secretly starting to look forward to the idea of being outside as a girl. Ten years of a secret double-life had just stifled a desire to show myself, and the girl I could be, to the outside world.


So when Peter led me by the hand into the bedroom, I went along with the plan. I pretended reluctance, but this was just part of the teasing act I had begun. Secretly I couldn’t wait to be on Peter’s arm as his girlfriend, rather than his boyfriend.

I picked out my best dress. It was a sleeveless white fit’n’flare number, quite short, showing off my dark skin perfectly. The bodyshaper I had on had a thong back, and Peter whistled as I walked up and down the bedroom, looking at myself in the mirror. “You tart!” he laughed. “I can see right through that dress, you know!” I phoned for a taxi. “Could I have a cab please?” I knew from years of practice that a high pitched voice would have sounded stupid, so I settled for a husky imitation of my mum’s. I gave the address, and went back into the bedroom, where Peter was rubbing aftershave onto his neck.

 


 

When the taxi arrived, I was relieved to see through the window the driver was a man. I had always thought that a woman was more likely to rumble a TV than a man would do. Hand in hand, Peter and I walked down the stairs to the waiting car.


The driver said little as he drove into town, and had given me no more than a quick glance as I got into the taxi. The dress I had on rode up well above my knees, and Peter rested his hand on my left thigh, occasionally squeezing reassuringly.

I had his other hand in mine, and was so glad he was by my side for this nerve- wracking experience. I doubt that I could have seen the evening through alone. When we reached town, Peter steered me along the pavement to a “Straight” pub, one of the most popular in the area. I had secretly hoped that he would have gone to one of the gay bars we usually drink in, as I would have felt much more comfortable there. The cool breeze of the early June night blew the thin fabric of my dress against me, and I was suddenly conscious of starting to get aroused. I was glad to get into the pub, away from the public gaze.


Inside the pub, we struggled through the crowds of drinkers towards the bar. I kept my eyes glued to the back of Peter’s head, not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. When we ordered drinks, I gulped down half my glass of wine immediately. Peter encircled my waist with his arm, and told me not to worry. It was easy for him to say. My heart had by now started to thump under the falsies, and I flitted my gaze from side to side nervously.

“I’ll have to visit the gents,” Peter said, moving away from me.

“Oh God, don’t leave me alone in here!” I gasped, fearing every possible scenario.

“You’ll be alright. Just don’t talk to any strange men in the meantime!”

“Pig!” I thought, and glared at his back as he walked away. I had started to feel calmer, though, and glanced around me in a more leisurely fashion than before.


I began to drink for the sheer hell of it – outside, as Charlene! I was dressed as a sexy teenage girl, and was accompanied by a hunky young man!

The evening, after Peter returned, went on without major incident. I think that, once I had spent a couple of hours outside as Charlene, the nerves had begun to disappear, and I realised that I fitted in more comfortably as Charlene than Charles. I go out as Charlene several times a week now, and have been away on holiday twice where I spent the entire week dressed as a girl.

Even though Peter and I are no longer a couple, I look back with a lot of fondness on our relationship. It was Peter who convinced me to go “public” as Charlene, and that I could be sexy as well as convincing as a girl. Since then, I’ve hardly looked back!

The End

 

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