Jealousy Made Me Do It!                    by: Diane

 

For years I’ve enjoyed dressing as a woman, in nylon panties and bras under short dresses that were suitable (barely) for me to show myself in public dressed that way. As a teenager, my weight was low enough for me to wear size 10 dresses. The many years since have changed my height, my weight, my shape and wrinkled my face. So here I am, a fifty-something, remembering when I could actually pass as a young teen girl.

Some 4 or 5 years back, a young couple with a 1 year old daughter moved in next door to me. The baby has grown and become an absolutely enchanting 6 year old girl. She has beautiful dark brown eyes, a short hair style, and a nubile athletic little body containing boundless energy. On occasion, flashes of her underclothing when her girlish skirts fly out, or get blown up by a brisk gust of wind have made me jealous.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a pedophile, a molester, or anything of that sort. It’s the innocent attitude of the girl that combined with her energetic participation in games, playing with her dog, and such that have been getting my goat. I envy her totally carefree lifestyle, for she hasn’t reached that age where boys and the attendant petty jealousies with other young girls in competion with her could cause problems. Oh, to be so carefree! And so very young! To have the unlined face of an angel....

Even her everyday summer wear (shorts, a tee shirt top, and some tennis shoes) make me have fits of jealousy, because she’s so cute in herself-contained world of enjoyment. So I resolved to find similar clothing which will fit me. To find stuff in little girl’s styles can be very hard to come by, for they’re not readily available for anyone my size. So I make do with women’s panties and tights for underneath. For dresses appropriate for one who is a six year old girl, but is as large as many NFL football tackles, required the assistance of a dress maker. It’s been a task, but I found one woman who makes things to fit from scratch, using my measurements.

I gave up on having a young face, but the rest of the old body has been toned up by many situps and exercise at a gym. Being as hairy as the actor Robin Williams required some real effort on my part, because shaving leaves stubble that comes back too quickly. So an appointment with a beaty salon for a body and facial wax to remove the hair was required. That too took quite a bit of calling and rebuffs. But I did finally find a suitably discreet cosmetician who agreed to do the deed.

On the day of my first appointment for the hair removal of all body hair on my legs, I showered and then got dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, with a tight Speedo underneath, just in case. I didn’t want a possible arousal to cause the salon appointments short. Slipping my tennis shoes on, I left to go get my legs cleaned off.

In retrospect, I didn’t have to worry too much about getting an arousal in my Speedo, for the first time for a leg waxing was unsettlingly painful. The beautician asked me how far up my legs I wanted the hair removed, and I ended up taking my shorts off so the wax could be applied all the way up to the Speedo. The whole hour had gone by quickly, but a lot of hair dissappeared too.

As I was leaving, the lady recommended I wear a real tight bikini thong on my next appointment. That way she could reach the parts on my inner thighs that hadn’t been touched, "close in" as she called it. "Women get their bikini-area waxed, so you can too."

During the time until the next appointment, I applied the moisturizer daily that she had recommended to prevent irratated skin portions developing little bumps. Then I picked up some lycra and silk thongs, in my "regular" size plus some that were several sizes down, just in case.

It took a while to get used to wearing the thongs with my private parts tucked back. But in the week between appointments, I wore them everyday to get comfortable with them. On the morning of my next appointment, I checked my legs for hair length, since my leg hair was still growing. The hair ends were barely out of the skin. I wondered if it was even long enough to have to have it redone!

Taking a tee shirt and shorts with me to the car to change into on arriving at the shop, I went to work until lunch came. As I left, I told my secretary I might be slightly late getting back. "No problem. If an emergency comes up, I’ll page you. I got you covered."

Nancy had made preparations for a more extended time, and had moved her equipment into a private area where a curtain could be closed, so I just had to remove my outer clothing, including my shirt and tie. It seemed funny to be sitting in a public place clad only in tight thong panties, but at least the curtain provided a bit of privacy.

She began the process of chest and underarm hair removal by using an electric shear to trim the hair length down to a quarter of an inch long. Then the waxing started. During the session, Nancy asked just what it was that made me decide to remove all my body and leg hair. At first I was hesitant, but finally was explaining that I was going to pretend to be a young girl of six, so the hair had to go. Nancy laughed, then said, "Six year old girls have absolutely no body hair. How are you going to remove your pubic hair? Are you going to shave it off too?"

I told her that I hadn’t really planned to remove hair in that area. Nancy asked, "Chicken? If you’re serious, it should go too." Then she gave little chicken sounds, clucking to tease me as she finished my arms. Finally her teasing worked. I agreed to having it removed as well.

"I’ll be real careful so I won’t hurt anything." she said. Then she picked up the clippers and began to cut away, moving the top of my thong down. There was no way that I didn’t get an arousal this time. My prick began to get hard and Nancy told me to lift my hips up a little. As I did so, she grasped the sides of the thong and whisked the thong down. Immediately my soldier sprang to attention, coming to its full swollen length. She gave a low whistle and said, "Nice one. Pity we don’t have time to make use of it!" Giggling, Nancy placed a petite hand around the shaft and trimmed away the hair surrounding the base. "Now spread your legs, so I can get all the hair around your nuts as well."

Soon she was waxing the whole area, doing smaller strips to minimize the pain. As she jerked the strips off around my prick, she would again hold onto my hard prick, and stroke gently.

Then she had me stand up while she put a towel down on the chaise lounge chair, telling me to lay down on it on my stomach while she did my back and buttocks. When Nancy had me spread my legs I thought I was going to make a mess right there in the salon. Holding a buttock and pulling it to the side, Nancy applied wax in the crease and zipped every trace of hair from around my anus. After finishing the waxing, she put moisturizer on my buns and rubbed it in. When she finished doing the whole back area, she announced, "Time to moisturize your front parts. Flip over, cutey!"

I stayed hard and extremely aroused the whole time she spent applying the moisturizer to my arms and chest, her hands getting closer and closer to my rampaging prick. Her composure was unreal, and I wondered what turned her on. She had me raise my legs and bend my knees apart so her administration of moistening lotion could be applied to my scotum. "Now the fun part. Lay your legs back down and hold on to the sides of the chaise."

Taking the bottle of lotion, she squirted a bunch into one hand, set the bottle down, then rubbed her hands together. She grasped my shaft with both hands and looked me straight in the eye. "You realize that this is not part of the hair removal services," then smiled as she stroked the shaft in her lotion covered hands. In no time at all, my prick burst forth with fountains of come that sprayed up in the air and fell to my hairless chest.

Nancy, ever the professional, wiped the come from my chest with a washcloth, dried me off, and announced, "All done and taken care of. Get dressed and we’ll get you paid up so you can go have some fun being a little girl." Needless to say, the tip was hefty.

Just as I reached my car, my pager went off. My secretary. Using my cell phone, I called her. "There’s a delivery of several boxes from a dressmaker that’s come in. What shall I do with them?" I told her to put them in my office and that I’d be back shortly.

I hadn’t devulged what was in the boxes, and the intentions about the contents. I wondered how I was to explain why I was getting boxes from a dressmaker. A new tux? Perhaps some custom made shirts? I began to concoct plausible explanations, all the time hoping she didn’t open the boxes. How would I explain to someone I worked with everyday the real purpose of a dress, slips and pleated panties? Would she quit working for me in disgust?

I walked in and asked if there were any calls. Handing me a stack of messages, my secretary looked at me with a devious looking smile on her face. Looking at the top messages, I walked to my office. As I entered, the contents of the boxes were in plain view. The dress was placed over the back of my chair so that it was fully displayed, unlike the other items which were still in the boxes.

Sputtering, I turned toward my secretary. Her grin had become even larger. "Beautiful dress, just like a littles girl’s. You ready to tell me about it, or do I just get to see you model it for me?"

"Uh, uh," I sputtered again. My secretary mentioned that the dress looked just like the one on the picture of my young neighbor that was sitting on my desk. "That dress is for you to wear, right?"

I blushed, turning a dark red. I said, "Let me explain."

"I’ll make some fresh coffee. Then we can talk. Meanwhile, get dressed then you can do your explaining. Don’t forget to put a slip on first. I’d hate to see the effect lost."

She had me pegged completely, like a deer in head lights. Closing my door, I stripped all my male clothing off and quickly donned the ruffled panties and a slip and was just pulling the dress over my head when she returned, opening the door and coming right on in. Sitting the cups of coffee on my desk, she said, "Here, let me help you get buttoned up."

In short order, she had me all encased in the dress, skirt fluffed out and down over the ruffled panties and flared slip. She sat down in my chair, and directed me to walk back and forth so she could see how the dress moved. "Now twirl, and I’ll tell you if your undies show." Of course, they were showing as the skirt and slip flew out as I twirled around.

The explanation began. "Jealousy made me do it..."

Afterwards, she told me everything was okay with her. In fact, she suggested that on Saturdays when no one was expected in and we were there to get out clients’ report and invoices, I should be a girl. Her little girl for a day. Normally, we came in on week ends only when we had to finish up critical paperwork. "But I guess Mommy will be seeing a lot of Saturday work now, so my little girl can come out and play."

Amazing! Of course, Mommy insisted on her little girl coming to the office that Saturday, and my new Mommy gave her little girl a dolly to play with as a surprise. Then at lunchtime, after sandwiches and milk, she told me she had to check my panties to make sure I han’t had an accident. That led to other things, and we got engaged and got married six months later. Now I get to be Mommy’s girl at home too. After we rush home from work.

 

 

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