Latex Lady

Latex Lady

By Frances Penwiddy

Copyright©Frances Penwiddy 2017

Contains sexually explicit material and is not suitable reading material for minors.

Chapter 1

Latex is not my thing really, well it wasn’t until I watched that bloody kinky porno film.

I don’t mind kinky or porno but this film caught me on the back foot. It shook me up and looks like it may even change my outlook on sex. Not that I’m sure what my outlook on sex is, or for that matter if I have one. As a single, unattached TG with a comfortable 36B bust and proportionate elsewhere, thanks to my sustained and devoted adherence to a regime of pills, patches and injections of hormones there have been times in the past when almost every outlook I had on anything became confused. I exercised regularly ate a healthy diet of weight controlling food and I was something of a looker. I looked and felt good in office clothes, ballroom clothes, disco clothes and knee length little black dresses when I was invited out to dinners or cocktail parties and I was due to have ‘my op’ in six weeks’ time. I suppose I’m entitled to be confused about outlooks sometimes except when it came to selecting a pair of shoes from amongst the thirty or so pairs I had tried on, then I am always confused.
When I went to have a final medical and sign the consent forms for the surgery, my consultant was courteous, confirmed that I was making the correct decision and promised that in five or six months my journey would be completed and he kept glancing at my knees and bust and smiling. “My wife gets confused when selecting shoes as well, it appears to be hormone related. She has similar problems when selecting a drink when we call in at the local. She is never quite certain what drink to have. Only a week ago she ordered a fruity red wine and as I started for the bar to order it, she changed her mind and asked for a white wine spritzer. When I returned and asked why the change of mind, she replied that red wine would have clashed with the dress she was wearing.”

But here I was in a popular tranny bar, occasionally sipping at a V&T, on a high stool in a tight just above the knee pink latex, hip hugging skirt, white silk blouse which was transparent enough to reveal that my pretty lace bra and cleavage were definitely not advertising the presence of balloons, rolled up tights or silicon bra fillers but the real, soft, warm and sensitive man toys or breasts if you’re a bit prim. My hair, usually over my ears with a soft curl was pulled back into a ponytail and tied in a bow with a soft silk ribbon that matched the skirt and at my waist was a red patent narrow belt with a short length of silk cord tied in a similar but more discreet bow.

My stockings were light tan, silky to the touch and with a provocative shine. My panties and suspender belt matched my bra, virginally white and of course silk and bloody expensive, not the sort of knickers an impatient suitor might rip off in a bout of sexual frenzy unless he was prepared to leave a sixty pound compensation fund on my bedside table. Despite the latex, I looked very feminine, vulnerable and soft so when a complete stranger approached me at the stool and sat down and said, “I think you may be in the wrong pub if you’re waiting for somebody.” I thought for a brief moment I had overdone the soft, feminine and vulnerable look and made myself look a bit fluffy brained, a sort of apprentice bimbo and it had affected my brain and I had indeed entered the wrong establishment.

“Oh,” I looked around quickly in case he was right. “I’ve only been in here a couple of times before but it looks like the Crossroads Lounge.”

“It is. You do realise it is generally recognised as a ‘Tranny friendly establishment,’ and you don’t appear very tranny?”

“Nor do you.” He was good looking; a square face that pulp magazines might describe as lantern jawed, slightly curled light brown hair but there was a steely glint to his eyes which hardened an otherwise soft friendly face. “You look more like Spencer Tracy playing Mike Hammer rather than a Tran playing a man.”

He chuckled, “I’m not but I like trans girls, they excite me. They’re differences make them the more exciting and they play for fun rather than a pretty house with roses around the door. I am afraid I’m what fashionable jargon might describe as a tranny chaser.”

“Or a man afraid of the commitments a pretty house with roses around the door might suggest.”

“I suspect you may be right or it could be that I have grown bored with genetic girls and am trying a nice alternative, the chase can often be as exciting as a successful conclusion. Now if your date is a man and he’s late, is there a chance I might buy you a drink and talk for a while?”

“You’ve just said you’ve given up on genetic girls and told me I’m in the wrong bar, I’m confused.”

“I didn’t say I’ve given up on them, I said I was bored, there is a difference.”

“Yes I can understand that. You might find genetic girls frightening as well, it’s the black cloud threat of pretty houses looming over you. Another thing to take into consideration is there are genetic girls who prefer the company of transgendered girls rather than men because they might be lesbian or feel safer alone when in a tranny friendly establishment.”

“Is that you because my offer of a drink and a chat until you find who you’re looking or waiting for still stands.”

“Yes please, I’ll have a V and T, you deserve a compensation prize for being so completely wrong.”

“About you?”

“About me. I am transgendered and will remain so for the next few weeks.”

“You’re trying it out, having a test run?”

“No, wrong again, I’m definitely transgendered but in a little over a month I will be having my op which I suppose means I will no longer be transgendered. I will look like a girl, act like a girl and have a girl body.”

He looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled, “Yes, I see it now, this is a last fling?”

I was about to answer when a barmaid came up, “Larry?”

“A V and T, half of lager and two Surprise cocktails, please.”

“Are you expecting company?” I asked eyeing the cocktails when they appeared.

“No, they’re for us.”

“Surprise cocktails! Are you trying to get me drunk, slip a date rape Micky Finn in one and do all sorts of evil things to me?”

“It’s a thought, thanks for the suggestion but this time you’re wrong. The cocktail part is to celebrate and wish you luck for your operation and the Surprise bit is for me for finding you in here and being told you’re TG. Shall we sit at a table whilst you’re waiting for your date.”

I picked up my two drinks and slid forward on my stool with the intention of easing myself down in a ladylike fashion. Wrong move, the covering of the seat cushion was one of those ubiquitous plastics and they and latex adore each other. My legs started to slide down and my skirt stayed firmly where it was and I was holding a drink in each hand. Given free range my legs gleefully carried on sliding out of my skirt until I reached the suspenders, where one escaped the skirt but the other managed to snag itself on a fold in the now rumpled skirt.

Larry had satisfied his male lust by now and reached a hand out to steady me but my arms, bent at the elbow were firmly locked against the side of my chest whilst I concentrated on getting my feet safely on the floor. His helping hand touched part of my arm and a larger part of my right breast at the moment my feet arrived at their destination. I stood perfectly still for a moment concentrating on not spilling the drinks and half expecting his other hand to slip between my thighs, up and under the skirt and grab my bum to prevent me falling over. His lust must have dissipated somewhat because his free hand took the V and T away from me and allowed me to pull my skirt down. His other hand however was not so quick and still remained half on my arm and half on my breast and when I twisted my shoulders so that I could claim my bag from the bar his hand finished up fully on my breast. I pretended not to notice but on one and a bit vodkas I did notice and for the brief seconds his hand remained where it was I enjoyed the tingles that started.

He snatched his hand away nearly making me drop my untouched cocktail, “Is my boob too hot, did you burn you hand?” I asked trying to ease the tension.

He tore his eyes away from my stocking tops long enough to smile, “Yes. Do you have to do things like that?”

“Do what? All I tried to do was get off my stool without spilling the drinks!”

“You finished up making my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets and then you hit my hand with a tit. That’s two counts of assault, I intend to get my own back.”

I took my vodka back from him and held both arms and the drinks out to the side, “Go on then, do it, I dare you. Do it in front of all these witnesses and I’ll scream so they all watch.”

“This lot are game for anything and would probably help me, not you.”

“That’s okay, they can hold me down and leave you free to grope away. I won’t mind, I might even enjoy it.”

“Are you okay, Larry?” The bar maid had joined us to see what the fuss was all about.

“Now that is rich,” I answered. “You ask Larry if he’s okay and ignore me and the awful state I’m in.”

She eyed me up and down, “It’s your own fault for wearing latex in a public place without practising first. I’m still not sure if you’re trying to get into that skirt or take it off and if you don’t watch what you’re doing, you’ll ladder your nylons.”

“I’m going to sit at the table over there with my back to the wall, it’s safer,” and I walked away. With my skirt still three inches above my knees and rumpled at the bum but at least the drinks were safe and I hadn’t spilled a drop. Before I sat down I glanced around the bar and got several thumbs up, two double thumbs up and a few lecherous grins, most of them from the T girls that were present.

Larry joined me a minute later with his drinks in his hands and my shoulder bag over his shoulder. “You left this on the bar,” and he put his drinks down and handed me my bag and I immediately opened it took out my compact and checked my face. “I never touched your lips even though I was tempted to kiss them.”

“You groped my boobs though, there’s no saying what you did to my face without my knowing.”

“I didn’t grope your boobs, I just put one hand over them to protect your modesty whilst you were practising your pole dancing.”

I put the compact away and grinned at him, “You would have used both hands if you’d had a chance.”

“Dead right, you have nice boobs.”

“You don’t think they’re too small?”

“No, just the right size and they jiggle rather than flop about.”

“How would you know that?”

“I know quite a bit about tits, I like them, they’re my favourite toy. When I play with them, the girls get all exited, wriggle about and if they try to stop me, I distract them by giving them something to play with.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not telling you but if you ditch whoever your waiting for, I’ll take you home and show you.”

“I’m not going home with a stranger to see his toys and jiggle my tits. I’m unsettled enough at the moment.”

“Your operation?”

“No I’m not worried about that, it’s more lifesaving than life threatening.”

“What then?”

“About my head, I watched a video last week and it unsettled me, no more than that, it excited me and I found that unsettling. Am I making sense?”

“I think so, was it a horror film or a very sad tragedy?”

“No, that’s what’s so unsettling, it was porn. Normally when I watch them I tend to think they’re more funny than erotic. The internet stuff, the hard core porn for porn’s sake rather than erotic scenes in feature films I mean.”

“And this one excited you. What was it about, or would you rather not say?”

“Rather not. I would be embarrassed.”

“Okay.” He looked at his watch, “It’s close to an hour and your date hasn’t turned up. You’re not a girl I’d keep waiting, you’re pretty exciting company. I’d have been here early, counting the seconds until you turned up.”

“Thank you but there is no date. I came in for a drink because of the way I was feeling. As I said a minute ago, I’m unsettled and I couldn’t work or watch telly and wasn’t hungry so I came here with the idea of having a couple of drinks, get an appetite and settle myself down. Then you bought me a drink and immediately involved me in an unsettling situation. Do you like or specialise in girls who flash their stocking tops and don’t scream when you grope them?”

“Who wouldn’t but it isn’t just that, I like your attitude to life, you’re a ‘Praise the Lord and pass the bullets’ type of girl and treat life as fun not as a chore.”

“We only get one chance so it’s a pity to waste it but I wouldn’t think a latex skirt, especially an innocent pink one demonstrates a lust for life I thought it would make me seem a bit frivolous or easy going.”

“It does. The colour demonstrates your femininity and gentleness but the choice of materials clearly shows you’re a girl who likes to experiment and is up for fun when the occasion warrants; a more carefree approach. When you started getting into trouble sliding off the stool, another girl would have dropped the drinks and used her hands to protect her modesty but you didn’t seem unduly concerned about showing a bit of leg…”

“And stocking top and at least one suspender clasp.”

“That too and it was exciting and when the barmaid asked me if I was okay, the manner you used to tell her off was funny. No embarrassment just indignation.”

“You’d be indignant if you were standing at a bar with your knickers on full view and a bloke groping you.”

“I would have smacked him one but you were too dedicated to saving the drinks and trying to get your skirt back into place.”

I grinned then, “The barmaid was right, these tight latex skirts do need practice.”

To be continued in my anthology of short stories.

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Don’t forget, all my work including the forthcoming Footsteps in the Sea-4 are available on Amazon Kindle via the URL in the right hand column on the BC home page.
The latest novel, Pagan Sunrise is also there but is not a TG or intersexed story.



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