“Okay, who’s next? Who celebrated National Nude Day with this contest in mind? Who wants to share their story with the group? Is there anyone else with a story before we close the competition and take a vote for the winner?” Everyone looked around to see who else had a story and who else had their hand raised. “Also, let’s not forget the rules. You must be naked. It must be sexual. And it must be something you haven’t done before.”
From the back of the room a very attractive, blonde wearing high heels and a short, red leather mini-skirt made her way down the long aisle encouraged by whistles, comments, and catcalls. Taking her time, as if walking a runway, she had a nice wiggle to her walk. About 5’9″ in her heels, she had an abundant rack, shapely legs with tone calves, and a round, bubble ass.
“Are you here to see someone, Miss,” asked Stan? “Are you lost?”
He didn’t want her to walk all that way just to tell her that that there weren’t women allowed in the club. He didn’t want to embarrass her. Then, he realized that maybe she had followed his ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law in the hall and had remained in the back of the large room without anyone noticing her. Maybe, she was there to spy on them. Fuck, now she knows that he made duplicate photos of his ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law suspended naked and upside down in a bungee jump for everyone’s delight. He wondered about the ramifications of that blunder. Somehow it would cost him attorney fees and more alimony for her mental health therapy.
Yet, the closer she walked, the more he wanted her to continue her forward progression. She looked like someone he had known so long ago, and had she not taken out that restraining order against him, they still might be together today.
Mesmerized by her walk, coming towards him in sections, hips and tits, hips and tits, and hips and tits, his cock stirred reacting to her slow and seductive approach. Suddenly, a bossa nova played through his mind with the soft sway of her hips and gentle bounce of her tits. He started humming the song The Girl From Ipanema.
‘Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking, and when she passes, each one she passes goes — ah. When she walks, she’s like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gentle that when she passes, each one she passes goes — ooh.’
The closer she neared, the more he realized how truly gorgeous she was. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, he was in love. Never has he been so struck with love and lust so quickly and so deeply.
When she finally made her way to the stage and climbed the stairs, he pulled her aside. She made him forget his ex-wife. She made him forget his girlfriend, what’s her name. She made him forget that cute girl in the coffee shop who gives him his coffee for free with a friendly smile and a flash of her abundant cleavage. She even made him forget Veronica, his deflated blowup doll hidden away in the top shelf of the bedroom closet for times of emergency when he argues with his girlfriend and she goes home to her mother for the weekend.
“Listen, I’m sorry and please forgive me for embarrassing or offending you, but this is a private men’s club. Women are not allowed here,” he said standing strong with crumbling resistance against her beguiling beauty.
Unfortunately, he weakened with the touch of her soft arm. He took the opportunity just to get near her. Her perfume was intoxicating. She made him swoon. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to nuzzle her. He wanted to lick her. Caught up in a fantasy of her naked in his arms, he imagined holding her blonde covered head in between his hands, as she sucked his cock. Only, her voice burst his bubble of the fantasy of her body in bed with him.
“I’d like to give my story.”
It was the voice of an Angel. She had a sexy voice with a Southern drawl. She sounded like she was from Georgia or Alabama. He imagined her winning a local beauty contest before winning Miss Georgia Peach or Miss Alabama Smoked Dry Rubbed Pork Ribs. He loved Southern women, so innocent, so naïve, and so filled with passion. Pulling himself away from her Southern charm, he took all of her in with a look of lustful desire and lewd fantasy.
“Your story? I’d love to hear your story, Honey. I’d love to hear everything you have to say,” he said whispering in her ear. “Maybe I can meet you later. There’s a private place not far from here and you can tell me your story over a drink, a mint Julep, but I’m sorry, Miss,” said Stan catching himself before completely falling for her and handing her first prize without even hearing her story. “You can’t enter our contest.”
“Why,” she asked with eyes that any man would give his soul to have them forever looking at him with love and lust.
He became more vocal in his resolve to fight the temptation of her. Determined to maintain his professional image, as the President of the club, confident in his pride of duty as the contest master, he avoided making contact with her big, blue eyes that made him want to get down on one knee and promise her his soul, if only for one kiss.
“Only, members of our private club can compete in our monthly contests and in this National Nude Day contest,” he said weakening but finding the fortitude to resist her charms and stay strong against her erotic way over him. “This is the Perverted Men’s Symposium, a private club just for men.”
“PMS! PMS! PMS!”
“I’m a member,” she replied giving him a seductive look and a sexy smile.
My God, how can someone be given this much beauty and poise. He just wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. He yearned to lustfully explore every inch of her sexy body. He wanted to take her home and ravish her and spend the rest of his life with her in bed. He imagined what their children would look like. He imagined weekend barbeques with her and their three children. He wondered if she had a sister and if her mother looked like her. He imagined them having a foursome, her, her sister, and her mother having a wild weekend in Bangkok or at the shore in New Jersey. Imagining her naked and in the throws of orgasmic passion, he wanted to make her his. Back to reality, he controlled his active imagination.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I’m a proud member of the Perverted Men’s Symposium.”
“Well, if you signed up online,” he said controlling the urge to kiss her, “and we accepted your application without us knowing that you are female or that if you didn’t realize in our literature that this is a private men’s club, I’d be happy to refund your registration dues.”
“There’s no need, Stan,” she said shoving back his shoulder while talking in his regular voice.
“Mike?” His voice was jolting. In a flash, gone were the three children, the barbeque, and sex with his sister and mother in a foursome. In a flash, he saw Mike waving from his Roto-Rooter truck, as he left for work. As if waking up from a dream, he couldn’t believe it. “Is that really you?”
“Well, yeah,” he said laughing. “Who did you think it was?” He stared at his best friend. “You didn’t recognize me, did you? You’re such a twisted, sick fuck, Stan.”
“PMS! PMS! PMS!”
“Didn’t recognize you? Fuck no! I mean, Hell, yeah. Ha! Ha! Of course, I recognized you. The joke is on you. What do you think I’m dumb or gay? I was just playing along with you. Ha! Ha!”
“You had me worried there for a minute, big guy,” said Mike looking up at his friend.
He was crushed and he leaned forward to smell his perfume again and to get the last glimmer of his sexual fantasy of her being his. He wanted to cry. Uplifted one second and thrown in a deep ditch the next, his Southern Angel had a cock and balls.
“God, you look so good,” he said aloud without realizing. “Actually, I was about to ask you out.”
“Sorry, Stan, but I don’t do Dudes,” said Mike with a nervous laugh.
“Did I just say that out loud? I can’t believe I said that,” said Stan stepping back and looking at his friend Mike. “I’m sorry, but you look unbelievable. You look simply gorgeous. You look so friggin’ hot that I just want to take you away somewhere tropical.”
“How about a ballgame Saturday, the Soxs are playing the Yankees,” asked Mike?
He stepped forward and felt his boobs.
“Hey,” said Mike slapping his grabby hands away and taking a step back. “Fresh,” he said in his best feminine voice dripping with Southern drawl. “You’d have to buy me dinner before feeling my tits, big boy,” said Mike with a coy look and a feigned laugh.
“What is that in there?”
“Falsies,” he said with a chuckle. “You never felt falsies before?”
“They feel like real tits,” he said reaching out his hand to cup them, again. “I can’t get enough of your, I mean, them. They even have nipples.” He looked in those big, blue eyes again, leaned in closer and whispered his desire for her, I mean, him. “Are you hot for me or is it cold in here.”
“Those are just my built-in nipple impressions,” said Mike in his regular voice and taking another step away from him.
“Fucking unbelievable,” said Dave. “You’d never get me to dress up as a broad.”
“I always suspected Mike was a flame,” said Eddie. “He must have his cock stuffed back between his legs and up his ass.”
“Look, he even shaved his legs,” said Nick. “That’s so gay.”
“I’m sorry, but even to win this prestigious contest, I’d never go as far as dressing like a broad,” said Sam. “Will you look at that? He even plucked his eyebrows, shaved his forearms, hands, and fingers.”
“That’s crazy,” said Dave. “He did all that just to win a $150 contest? He must have spent more than that for those clothes, falsies, and wig.”
“Yeah, well,” said Eddie, “maybe he didn’t have to buy anything. Maybe, he had them all along. Maybe, he’s using this contest as a ruse to step out of the closet, if you know what I mean.”
“Wow! I told you he was gay,” said Dave.
“Mike’s not gay,” said Sam. “Moreover, most cross dressers aren’t gay, either. They just enjoy dressing as a woman and wearing sexy things. They like wearing women’s clothes. They like how the material feels against their skin, is all. They like to look pretty and they—.”
“Gees, Sam, you know a bit too much about cross dressing men.”
“I have a friend,” said Sam defensively, “who cross dresses. They’re not hurting anyone. There’s much worse things you can do than to cross dress, such as the things that Weird Warren has been accused of doing with those two Japanese tourists who were never found.”
They all turned around and looked at Weird Warren sitting in back reading his Kurt Vonnegut paperback book.
“They may have been taken, too,” said Weird Warren without looking up from his book.
“You guys need to be more understanding and tolerate of others,” said Sam. “Men who cross dress are tortured and sometimes sad. They put everything at risk, their jobs, their families, and their friends, just to enjoy their fetish of wearing women’s clothes.”
“Still, you’d never see me wearing a dress,” said Dave.
“They are always misunderstood by the typical lack of knowledge of guys much like you and encouraged by the ignorance you are espousing now,” said Sam. “You guys don’t appreciate what is behind their statement to cross dress. You don’t have an ounce of sensitivity and sexuality that these cross dressing men possess.”
“Just out of curiosity, Sam, but is your friend’s name, Sam,” said Eddie.
“Very funny,” said Sam. “They’d have to torture me to get dressed up as a broad. Cross dressing is not my thing, but I’m not going to pass judgment on someone else’s sexual peccadilloes. We all have our fetishes to bear. What you find arousing may not appeal to me, just as what you find sick, I may find arousing. And that’s what this Perverted Men’s Club is all about, a place where we can explore and expose our fetishes without fear of public humiliation and/or arrest.”
“PMS! PMS! PMS!”
“Even so,” said Nick. “I’d never dress up as a broad.”
“Ditto,” said Dave. “I’ll never shave my legs for anyone. Although, I wonder if he had a bikini wax done. That might be something I’d try depending on who was giving me the waxing.”
“You’ll never see me wearing a mini-skirt and high heels,” said Eddie. “Look, he’s even wearing lipstick. Is he hoping to be kissed? Gross.”
“Okay, Mike, I can imagine how your story as a cross dresser could be a first time experience, as well as I can see this as a sexual perversion,” said Stan. “Yet, I can’t imagine how you could be naked, as per the rules of the Nude Day contest without blowing your cover,” said Stan suddenly, imagining him naked and in bed with him while he wore his wig, makeup, sexy lingerie, and spoke softly to him in that Southern drawl.
“Yeah, there’s no way he can enter the contest,” said Dave.
“I agree,” said Stan, because as soon as you remove the women’s clothing, you’d no longer be a cross dresser but a man wearing makeup and a wig. Applying the rules to your story, this must be a first time experience, it must be sexual, and you must be naked. I’m sorry Mike, but I can’t allow your contest entry.”
“Well, on the chance of ruining the ending to my story, you have no idea what a sexual magnet crossing dressing is for some women.”
“No way,” said Dave leaning forward in his seat. “Wait, Stan. Let him speak.”
“Trust me, Dave, some women are grossed out, others are turned off by it, but then there is that small group of women, once you find them and trust me, you don’t have to look very far because they’ll find you, who will practically rape you. They are insatiable in their sexual desire for you, as a cross dresser.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Eddie. “I always wanted to be raped by a woman. It’s a fantasy of mine for her to do whatever is her pleasure to my naked body.”
“You can borrow my butch Dyke wife, Ed. She’d rape you with her dildo like she did me.”
“No, that’s okay, Nick. She beat the shit out of me the last time. Once is enough for me.”
“Come on, Guys, let Mike tell his story.”
“Cross dressing is a real turn on for some select few women. Never have I had as much uninhibited and passionate sex. Never have I had such hot sex when dressed as a woman while making love to a woman. They don’t want me to remove my wig, makeup, bra, and/or panties.”
“That’s unbelievable,” said Hal. “I wonder why that is?”
“I have a theory,” said Mike. “Now, it’s just my opinion mind you based upon my limited experience, albeit short experience, as a cross dresser, but I suspect that the women who are attracted to cross dressing men, and they are all very hot and beautiful woman, are closet lesbians. I don’t know, but I think the same thing may hold true for transsexuals as well.”
“No way,” said Sam.
“It’s true. I’m suggesting that there are women who would never try lesbianism and would never make love with another woman for whatever reason. Yet, since, I’m a man dressed as a woman that is the turn on for them. Instead of seeing it as an act of lesbianism, they see it more as an act of role playing where they allow their erotic fantasy to carry their sexuality to a heightened level, which would explain why they are so wild in bed.”
“Did he just say that these women who are hot for cross dressing men are wild in bed?”
“You have no idea, Eddie,” said Mike. “So long as I have my makeup, perfume, wig, and lingerie still on, they are open for anything sexually…anything.”
“Oh, my God,” said Dave.
“Oh, my God,” said Sam.
“Oh, my God, said Nick.
“Open for anything sexually,” said Eddie.
“That’s an interesting theory,” said Hal. “You may be onto something there.”
“Did you hear that,” asked Dave of Sam? “Hot and beautiful women give him uninhibited and passionate sex for cross dressing his ass.”
“Yeah, I heard, Dave. I have an erection just thinking about hot beautiful women losing control over and raping my panty clad, bra covered body,” said Eddie.
“Sorry, for staring,” said Stan, “but you look exactly like a woman I once was in love with so long ago, Mary Beth Clark. I’m just shocked by how much you look like her.”
“Well, thank you, Stan. I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Mike in his sexy Southern drawl again.
“Yes, please do. I imagine, though, it must have been tough for you,” said Stan taking his hand and holding it up to his chest while stroking it. “Did anyone know or suspect that you weren’t a woman?”
“Easily, I was able to fool every guy. Guys never looked beyond the outside package. They just see shapely legs, ass, tits, and a pretty face and they get an erection. I got into more clubs, given more free drinks, and had primo parking spaces out front, just by dressing up like this, so long as I showed the valet some leg with an up skirt panty flash.” Mike looked down at Stan holding his hand. “Let go of my hand, Stan. You’re freaking me out a little bit.”
“Sorry,” he said looking down at his legs. “You do have nice legs, I mean, for a guy. Actually, you have better legs than my girlfriend and certainly better legs than my ex-wife,” said Stan reaching down and running his hand along the outside of Mike’s thigh before reaching around and rubbing, feeling, and massaging his tight ass. “Are those padded panties?”
“Hey,” said Mike. “You’re way too free with your hands, Stan. Give a girl, I mean, me a break here. Besides, you’re leaving paw prints on my red leather mini.”
“Sorry, it’s just that your ass feels, I mean, you know, real.”
“It is real. It’s my real ass, Stan. It’s my ass beneath these padded panties.” Mike looked at him. “Are you hitting on me, Stan?”
“No, of course not, why would you think that?”
“Because you have an erection,” said Mike looking down at the front of his friends tented pants. “You’re not gay are you?”
“No, of course not, I have a girlfriend. Gees, what do you think I’m a pervert or something?”
“PMS! PMS! PMS!”
“Well, that was a stupid comment of me to make,” said Stan with a laugh. “It’s just that I can’t help but get the feeling that we met somewhere before,” he said suddenly losing himself in Mike’s big, blue eyes.
“Of course, we met before, Stan. Hello? I’m Mike, remember? I’m your best friend. We live next door to one another.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, of course, I was just wondering though, were you ever in Bangkok?”
“No,” said Mike with a chuckle.
“So, what made you dress as a woman,” asked Hal?
“Some guys don’t understand another guy dressing as a woman and I never did either,” said Mike. “I thought, since it was National Nude Day and since this was a contest, what the Hell, I’d see what it was like to be a woman for a day. I figured I’d expand my sexual horizon by trying something new. Besides, cross dressing met all the contest criteria.”
“You make for a very hot and sexy woman, by the way. I mean, I’d do you, if I didn’t know you were a guy. If I didn’t know you were Mike and if I was alone with you in a prison cell, I’d fuck your brains out.”
“Thank you, Hal. You’re kind of cute, too, in a manly sort of way, only, you really not my type, since you have a penis and hairy testicles.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying that you make a much better looking woman than you do a man,” said Stan.
“You’re making me blush, now,” said Mike in his sexiest of voices.
“Do you think that maybe you’re a woman trapped in a man’s body.”
“No,” said Mike in his regular voice, giving Stan a curious look, and taking another step back away from him.
“So, what’s it like being a woman,” asked Hal?
“Not easy,” said Mike lifting his skirt higher to spread his legs and putting an elbow up on the podium, as if he was bellying up to the bar for a beer. “When I put the pantyhose on, I realized two things.”
“Which was,” asked Hal?
“I bought the pantyhose in a size too small and I needed to shave my legs. Also, shopping for all these clothes was an adventure. I was either met with looks of curiosity, is he or isn’t he, looks of disgust or women were handing me their cell phone numbers. Never in my life have I ever had so many women hitting on me. And all these women were drop dead gorgeous.”