textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/carla.txt

                           CARLA'S COMING OUT


     The garage sale was not scheduled for another four weeks
when hopefully the weather would be warm and certainly conducive
for a good turn-out of buyers; it was the middle of April and
still a little cool, with storms likely to surprise an unwary but
enthusiastic owner of saleable wares.  But, I felt restless in
the apartment and thought I would get a headstart on cleaning out
the garage.  I informed my Chery, my wife, and went outside.
     It was unusually warm on that Saturday afternoon.  So warm,
in fact, that after fifteen minutes of moving boxes in the
garage, I decided I should put on some shorts, a garment I love
to wear.  In the house and out in two minutes wearing only white
shorts and t-shirt and some tight, brown leather sandals.  I'd
bought them on our trip to California the previous summer.  They
were slightly small as Cheryl observed at the time but I loved
the tightness though I never admitted that to Cheryl.  I also
think they were women's sandals misplaced to the men's table.  I
think Cheryl suspected so also but never mentioned anything.
     The sun felt great on my legs as I leisurely moved boxes to
the front part of the garage.  Suddenly I heard a male voice.
     "Hello!"  I turned to see the new neighbor standing with his
right hand extending upward holding onto the raised door.  He was
casually dressed with jeans, a sweatshirt and jogging shoes.  He
smiled and extended his right hand.
     "I'm Bill," he said.
     "Carl," I replied while meeting his handshake.  "How long
have you been standing there?"
     "Just a few seconds.  I heard the movement of boxes from my
apartment and realized how sunny and warm it was so here I am.
Besides, I've been wanting to meet you and your wife.  Geri, my
wife, is jogging. Should be back soon."
     His method of expression with his words as well as hands I
thought was quite lively.  We talked for almost thirty minutes
about virtually anything.  We seemed to have alot in common
except for our physical appearance.  He was six-foot one with a
slight paunch but with an enviable physique.  Not bad for
thirty-seven, he remarked.  Myself, on the other hand, am
five-six and no paunch.  Finally, Bill in an answer to my
contagious enthusiasm for cleaning, decided to open his garage to
straighten the mess left from their move of two weeks before.  I
remember that night.  It was snowing as I watched Bill and Geri
unload their U-haul.  I didn't envy them as I watched from the
second floor bedroom window.
     Bill's garage was located next to mine and after he opened
his garage door I realized the cause of his physique.  In the
exact middle of the garage was a set of weights and
stairs--probably for Geri.
     I helped him straighten out some boxes and one box fell
breaking at the corner and releasing clothes.  We grabbed the
clothes and began to replace them into the broken box when my eye
caught a red polka-dot dress.  I lifted it and remarked how
pretty it was.  Subconciously, I placed the dress against my body
and looked down toward the hem.  The hem came to almost two
inches above my knee.  For a moment, I was alone and my thoughts
went back five years to my college days when I lived alone and to
my teen years when I wore my teenage aunt's dresses in private.
     Then my mind snapped back to the present.  I looked at Bill
whose eyes seemed to convey an understanding and whose mouth
reflected an appreciating smile.
     I apologized and pulled the garment from my body.  I felt
embarrassed.  This was the first time anyone saw me even next to
a dress in that manner.
     "No," Bill said, "you don't look half-bad, Carl.  Put it on,
let's see how you really look."
     Somewhat reluctantly I unzipped the dress and stepped into
it.  I laughed nervously hoping it would be an appropriate
response to the moment.  Bill still smiled and pointed out a
dusty mirror next to the boxes.  My reluctance melted into
excitement and I felt my cock began to swell.  My image in the
mirror appeared one of some femininity as some masculinity
prevailed.  I, again, realized that I was exposing my most inner
desires in front of a man whom I'd just met moments earlier.
But, Bill seemed so willing and helpful.
     "Wait a minute,"  Bill said and grabbed a box marked "shoes,
Geri."  He handed me some white pumps.  I grasped them firmly but
soon realized the fit was about a size too small.  Disappointed,
I looked into the box when my eyes caught some black
thin-strapped, high-heeled sandals and put them on.  They were
still a size too small but the last hole in the strap was
adequate and I walked to the mirror, my senses excited by the
sharp feminine cadence of high-heels on concrete.  The image of
femininity began to nudge my masculine part aside.
     Bill whistled.  "Hey, you'd be great during Halloween,
Carl."  I responded with a brief fifteen-second description of
one particular Halloween.  Then I turned and admired my image in
the mirror.
     "He'd be great at a lot of parties."  I quickly turned to
face the voice's source.  The voice was feminine and it belonged
to Geri, who was leaning against the side of the door opening.
She had a smirk on her face as she eyed me from head to toe.
"Nice legs. I'll need those heels for a meeting next week."  She
looked at Bill after her remark, turned and walked to their
apartment.  Bill shrugged.
After we closed both garage doors we returned to our apartments.
     I saw Bill and Geri but only occasionally during the next
two weeks and only outside our respective garages either on our
way to work or on our return.  Once Cheryl was with me and I
introduced them.  Her and Geri seemed to hit it off and we always
parted remarking that we should get together.  Geri, during our
meetings, never seemed taken back by our initial encounter.  In
fact, she did wear the heels the following Thursday with a gray
two-piece suit and silky black hose.  I saw her from my bedroom
window when she returned from work.  Her calves were of a shape
distinctive of a runner but the shape did not detract from the
shapeliness of her legs in general.  I actually almost envied her
her legs and yearned to see mine in the mirror with the same
heels she was wearing.  I always yearned to shave them so as to
see thier true shape encased in nylons and atop heels.
     On the third Saturday, Geri called Cheryl and invited us to
join them for a barbecue.  It was a great evening.  We joked and
discussed each of our of our marraiges and each of our lives
before marraige.  When our evening together ended Geri invited
them to join us the following the weekend and then quickly
withdrew the invitation when she recalled a prior commitment to
her sister to help her pack for a move overseas to join a
military husband.  We promised each other to discuss a
get-together two weeks hence.
     The following Tuesday Bill called.
     "Carl," he said with a slight whisper, "can you talk?"
     "Sure, Bill, what's up?"
     "No, I mean can you talk privately, without Cheryl around?"
     The mystery intrigued me.
     "Yeah, she's doing laundry in the next building."
     "Say, Geri told me last night that she has to go on a quick
overnight business trip this Saturday."
     On a Saturday? I thought.  Then I recalled her profession
with a modeling agency took her on occasional weekend promotions.
     "Really?"  After a pause I continued, "And?"
     "And let's . . let's have some fun."
     A Saturday night with the guys.  Hadn't done that in a long
time.  "Okay, Bill, sounds good.  What do we do?"
     Bill didn't respond immediately.
     "Wait, Carl, let me start from the beginning.  When Geri
told me about her trip last night I spent the day thinking about
it.  At first I thought about you and I getting together for a
couple of beers at the Tenpin and then my secretary gave me an
idea.  Now listen to me carefully and thoroughly before you
respond, okay?"
     "I'm listening."
     "Let's really have some fun.  Remember a couple of weeks ago
when you put Geri's dress and shoes on?"
     "Yeah, I remember."  How could I forget?  I kept a vivid
memory which I tapped each day since.
     "Oops, sorry I made you respond.  Anyway, how would you like
to dress up like that only completely?  You know, like with a
wig, make-up, jewelry and all that stuff."
     I loved the idea and my thoughts quickened with excited
anticipation.
     "Well, okay, Bill.  Just wonder if I'll pass though.  Maybe
I'll be recognized as a man."
     "No way, not from the way you looked the other day."
     Just what I needed to hear.  I often wondered if I could
pass and at thirty years of age I'll find out.
     "Appreciate the compliment.  What do we do or should we
maybe wait till we get together?"
     "Well I thought we would maybe dine and dance or something
like that.  This town is full of stuff to do.  But, first let's
get together as Bill and Carla then we'll decide."
     We decided that Bill would pick me up at my apartment about
seven o'clock.  I mentally calculated two hours preparation.  He
asked if I wanted Geri's dress and shoes.  Initially I thought
about my wish when I saw Geri in the heels then decided I would
buy my own stuff.  I didn't know if I had the guts to shop on my
own but knew I had to get up the courage or only dream about
going out.
     I spent the rest of the week counting the hours till 7 PM
Saturday.  Bill only smiled the one time I met him going to work.
Cheryl and I made love each night until she left on Friday
morning and during each of our lovemaking encounters I fantasized
about the planned excursion.  Cheryl remarked appreciatively
about my lovemaking intensity.
     On Friday afternoon I shopped.  At first, I hesitated but
after I bought the dress my confidence bloomed and I had no
trouble with the rest of my wardrobe.  I almost went through a
second round, such was my confidence and excitement.  Cheryl had
an enormous amount of make-up so the only make-up I bought was
concealer which Cheryl's make-up books mentioned was good for
blemishes.  I figured my shadow--though I expected to shave
closely--would easily be covered with the concealer.  At thirty,
I still only shaved every other day.
     Saturday afternoon finally arrived.  I told Bill over the
phone previous evening not to see me until seven.  I almost felt
like a bride.
     At five o'clock I carefully placed most of my wardrobe on
the bed.  I had bought a black long-sleeved dress with small
white polka dots.  I placed that in the closet still in its
plastic cover fresh from the cleaners.  On the bed I placed the
white clip-on earrings, white scarf, black sheer silky stockings
(the expensive kind, I went all out), and some black-patent
high-heeled pumps with four-inch heels.  The size was right, I
was certain of that.  At the store the saleslady I'm sure
suspected my true motive for purchasing them--I said they were
for Cheryl--since she handed me a box and suggested I go into the
little room and decide if they were right.  I was baffled when I
went into the room until I opened the box and saw some worn short
nylons obviously placed there by the saleslady.  My hands shook
as I tried on the heels and they fit perfectly.
     After admiring my purchases, I ran my the shower.  In the
shower I ran the hot water over my face to soften my beard and
when satisfied I shaved carefully so as not to cut myself.  I
finished with complete success.  Then came a task I yearned,
shaving my legs.  I plugged the tub and let hot water from the
shower fill it up and shut off the shower sitting down to start.
I used two razors for each leg.  I started gliding the razor from
my ankles up my shins and around to my calves.  Then I used a new
razor for my thighs from knee to crotch.  I repeated the cycle
with the other leg.  As I lifted the razor through each shave I
saw white soft skin follow the head.  When I finished I caressed
my legs feeling lusciously smooth softness.
     I dried myself completely and admired myself in the
full-length bedroom mirror from the waist down.  My legs appeared
smooth and slightly tanned from two days of shorts.  I decided to
put on the make-up first so I could enjoy the delicious moments
of dressing as a deserving reward to myself.  Applying make-up
was easier than I thought.  My main problem was with my eyes.
The eye-liner was tricky and I had to experiment with shadow
until I got the blue shades to my liking.  I explicitly followed
each step listed in Cheryl's book.  When I placed one of Cheryl's
short black wigs on my head I was quite surprised at how feminine
and pretty I looked.  My mouth almost agape, I stared into the
dresser mirror for a couple of minutes.
     Now, the final delicious chore.  When I sat on the bed I
heard the doorbell.  Bill's early, I thought.  Then I realized by
the clock on the bathroom wall that Bill was on time.  It was
already seven.
     "Come in, Bill."  I yelled from the bedroom.  When he walked
in to the living room I informed him I wasn't dressed yet.
     "Just like a woman," he said.  I giggled with such a girlish
giggle I was sure stemmed from my feeling of femininity.
     Sitting back on the bed, I grabbed a garter belt from the
dresser drawer and hooked it on my waist.  Then I carefully
rolled each stocking and gingerly unrolled the stocking up each
leg hooking each to the belt.  Then I decided to put on a girdle
especially to hide my maleness and restrict its erection.  It had
erect at varying degrees of hardness since the bath.  So I
repeated the procedure with the stockings only this time hooking
them to the girdle and stuffed tissue into the top part of the
girdle to emphasize breasts.  I didn't dare admire my stockinged
legs until I finished and when I stepped into the heels I looked
at the mirror.  I was beautiful.  My figure was slightly fuller
than I wanted but I was without a doubt very feminine.  I turned
and admired my legs which in my biased view were more shapely and
feminine than Geri's.  I knew they were prettier than Cheryl's.
She always wore long dresses or pants.
     Now came a test.  I walked around the bedroom to get used to
the heels and especially to develop a feminine sway and hold my
arms and head properly.  I then walked into the living room to
parade in front of Bill.
     "Wow, Carl. . uh. .I mean Carla.  You look super.  Just
super."  He stood and walked around looking at me thoroughly.
"I wouldn't recognize you anywhere and I really mean that."  No
better compliment could be given.  In a sense my feminine self
felt good with such a compliment from my man.  I felt even more
feminine when he held my waist as we walked to his garage.  We
were careful not to encounter any neighbors.  Successful, off we
were.
     On our way I realized an error.  My hands.  They seemed very
out of place without nail polish and actually were too large for
such a feminine looking body.  So my first real test came when we
stopped at a clothing store to buy black gloves.  Ironically, it
was the store where I bought the dress.  We both walked in
selected some gloves and paid for them.  I caught a couple of men
and women casting a glance my way.  Beyond that the detour was
uneventful.  I felt exquisite.  I passed with flying colors and
felt very much like a woman.  Finally, feeling like a woman.
Bill especially admired the complimentary way the scarf and
earrings went with the outfit.
     Dinner was excellent.  The food was good and the scene of
the lake very romantic.  When the waiter inquired "what does the
lady wish?" or "Is the lady comfortable?" I felt warm and good.
I held my head so femininely it seemed a natural stance to my
look.  The feeling of my nyloned legs as I crossed them was
incomparable.  I made special effort to swing my legs seductively
as I turned on my chair each time Bill and I got up to dance.  I
got excited each time the men looked at me.   I got more excited
when the women would look and reflect their evil thoughts as they
looked at my eyes.  They always smiled but I knew that was a
facade.  The restroom visits at first were trying but I simply
worked around the girdle.
     Finally it was one o'clock.  I never knew six hours could
pass so quickly.  I hated to leave the nightclub.  Dancing next
to Bill felt heavenly with his arm firmly but gently caressing my
waist and with my arm holding on to his well-developed shoulders.
During a couple of slow dances he held me tighter and placed his
cheek next to mine.  I put my chin on his shoulder and closed my
eyes and lavished in the womanly luxury.
     Bill drove slowly on our way home.  I just looked out at the
glimmering stars and mentally replayed each delicious moment of
the previous six hours.  I recalled the preparation, the first
trek outside the apartment, purchasing the gloves, and the looks
of all the men and women; some indifferent, some curious and
others seemingly knowing but unconcerned.  Those were probably
the most acceptable and appreciative looks.  No judgments, no
comments and certainly no unnecessary, erroneous preconceptions.
     When Bill parked the car and closed the garage door, we
walked slowly to the apartment.  Upon arriving at my door, I
placed my arms around Bill's neck and gave an appreciative hug.
     "Thanks, Bill, thanks so much."  I said softly.
     "You're welcome, Carla, er, Carl, whomever."  We both
laughed.  "But, you really are pretty, Carla."
     "Thank you, kind sir."  I said and gave him a quick kiss to
which he simply smiled and turned to walk toward his own
apartment.
     I opened the door and walked in still feeling high and when
I closed the door I leaned back against it relishing the feel of
the dress and reliving the feel of the cool air on my legs when
we left the restaurant.  The girdle was the most annoying part of
the wardrobe and began to remind me of the woman's sacrifice when
using it, the tight pinching.  I knew it was then time to get it
off.  So, off to the bedroom.
     As I approached the bedroom I realized I had forgotten to
turn off the light.  The half closed door made it seem like a
beacon piercing the dark living room.  When I opened the door I
froze.  On the bed was Cheryl reading a book by the table lamp
and beside her was her slumbering sister.  When Cheryl looked up
at me her immediate reaction was to scream.  Her mouth opened to
release the high pitched shrill and while the first note remained
unleashed in her throat she stopped.
     "Who, who are you?"  She looked at me quizzically.
Obviously, she saw a woman and soon she recognized the features.
     "Carl?  Carl?  That isn't you?"  Her eyes widened.

                         TO BE CONTINUED