I Caught Crossdressing
I posted an earlier story about being "caught", when I let my cousin catch me. This one is when I was genuinely caught. There's no great punchline (I really know how to sell a story!) - it's just an exercise in prolonged embarassment. Funnily enough, it involved my cousin again.
We were now 19, and he had passed his driving test. His parents had bought him an old piece of you-know-what - how the thing was deemed safe to be on the roads was a mystery. Anyway, the two of us were away together for a few days in the summer break from university. We had rented a room in a cheap hotel, and I had brought women's clothes with me. (Being away from home, I now had my own stash.) As I said earlier, I wasn't really into full crossdressing, but I had a blouse and skirt combination with me. He knew of course that I had been wearing a girdle on the drive there, but he knew nothing about the rest of the stuff.
The third day, he suggested driving out into the country. I figured that we'd be so remote that the chances of anyone meeting us were slim. So, as he went out to start the car, my poor impulse control kicked in again. I ran to our room, ******** down to my underwear (longline bra, open girdle, stockings - just the stuff for a day in the country!) and put on the petticoat, blouse and tight black skirt I had brought. I opened the door gently and looked - no-one around. So, hear pounding, I stepped into the corridor, shut and locked the door, and raced out and got in the car, leaving my normal male clothes behind.
He glanced at me briefly, said nothing (as usual!) and drove off.
I think this is the proper point to mention that I could not pass as a woman if my life depended on it. I looked exactly what I was - a 6 foot man in women's clothes.
And, of course, we barely got 10 miles before that damn car broke down. He phoned the AA to get us picked up, and I sat there in a cold sweat, knowing that I had nothing to change into, and that we were out in the middle of nowhere with no shops.
The driver of the pickup truck did a classic comedy double-take as I got our of the car, and seemed to spend more time looking at me and sniggering than he did looking at the road on the drive to the nearest garage.
When we got there, it took a couple of hours to fix the car. I sat there in the waiting room while I imagine every person from the front desk staff to the lowliest mechanic found an excuse to stick their head in the door and stare. When we went out to pick up the vehicle, every mechanic there was lined up to give me the fulll wolf-whistling, cat calling treatment.
And, finally, when we got back to the hotel, there were people everywhere, so, after half-an-hour of futile waiting, I had to walk through the foyer and back to my room as staff and customers stared open-mouthed at me.
We checked out in the morning and found another hotel . And the blouse and skirt (but not the girdle and bra :>) stayed in the suitcase for the rest of the trip.
We were now 19, and he had passed his driving test. His parents had bought him an old piece of you-know-what - how the thing was deemed safe to be on the roads was a mystery. Anyway, the two of us were away together for a few days in the summer break from university. We had rented a room in a cheap hotel, and I had brought women's clothes with me. (Being away from home, I now had my own stash.) As I said earlier, I wasn't really into full crossdressing, but I had a blouse and skirt combination with me. He knew of course that I had been wearing a girdle on the drive there, but he knew nothing about the rest of the stuff.
The third day, he suggested driving out into the country. I figured that we'd be so remote that the chances of anyone meeting us were slim. So, as he went out to start the car, my poor impulse control kicked in again. I ran to our room, ******** down to my underwear (longline bra, open girdle, stockings - just the stuff for a day in the country!) and put on the petticoat, blouse and tight black skirt I had brought. I opened the door gently and looked - no-one around. So, hear pounding, I stepped into the corridor, shut and locked the door, and raced out and got in the car, leaving my normal male clothes behind.
He glanced at me briefly, said nothing (as usual!) and drove off.
I think this is the proper point to mention that I could not pass as a woman if my life depended on it. I looked exactly what I was - a 6 foot man in women's clothes.
And, of course, we barely got 10 miles before that damn car broke down. He phoned the AA to get us picked up, and I sat there in a cold sweat, knowing that I had nothing to change into, and that we were out in the middle of nowhere with no shops.
The driver of the pickup truck did a classic comedy double-take as I got our of the car, and seemed to spend more time looking at me and sniggering than he did looking at the road on the drive to the nearest garage.
When we got there, it took a couple of hours to fix the car. I sat there in the waiting room while I imagine every person from the front desk staff to the lowliest mechanic found an excuse to stick their head in the door and stare. When we went out to pick up the vehicle, every mechanic there was lined up to give me the fulll wolf-whistling, cat calling treatment.
And, finally, when we got back to the hotel, there were people everywhere, so, after half-an-hour of futile waiting, I had to walk through the foyer and back to my room as staff and customers stared open-mouthed at me.
We checked out in the morning and found another hotel . And the blouse and skirt (but not the girdle and bra :>) stayed in the suitcase for the rest of the trip.
By:
deleted
Age:
26-30
