Coming Out - Charlene's Story

Once dressed as a woman, a TV can enter into feminity in secluded bliss for as long as he/she as time.

By Debbie O'Brien

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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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