PERFECT

PERFECT

by

Dorothy Strangelove

When you know the one you love is that forever love you have wanted all your life it's a precious thing. I knew he was the love of my life and he knew everything about me. Well, almost everything. But knowing you have in your hands something pure and precious and so complete that it's bigger than the world is a wonderful thing. But a love like that means everything and with it comes a fear that if I am not the perfection he sees when he looks at me with the eyes of a lover then maybe I would lose him. And yet that fear balances out with the perfect antidote that I should be myself and not fear judgement. 

But I told him that I wanted him to know all of me and today is the day I'm going to tell him the one thing he doesn't know about me. I'm just sitting here killing time and trying not to watch the clock because then the time will slow and I will hate that because I'm trying to gather my thoughts.

Come in and wait with me.

Listen as my mind ticks over:

I am not perfect.

I am flawed.

But maybe those flaws exist only in my mind.

I've spent a lot of years covering them up.

And in many ways that's an injustice simply because that which I hide is my secret strength.

I'm a fairly attractive woman. I'm intelligent, resourceful, creative, feminine, I'm a great mother to my kids, I love shopping and make up and perfume and in bed I am always the submissive partner and very adventurous with it. I am a sexy person, through and through.

And it was that sexy person who helped me to see me for who and what I really am - I understand the way I am made.

But it won't make it any easier to explain it:

When I was a little girl, I was my mother's dolly. Sometimes she wanted me, other times she couldn't be bothered with me and always, always, she told me what to wear.  She liked to show me off, I was an accessory. I had a wardrobe full of long dresses and frilly clothes. Nothing wrong with that, I still wear long dresses or mini skirts to this day, in the summer I wear next to nothing because I'm a woman and I can - it's so much more comfortable (plus I sweat a lot!).  I like tight tops with plunging necklines and when I want to be sexy I can dress for it. I own dozens of pairs of shoes and I have sexy underwear, too. But back to when I was a child - back then I just put on what I was told to wear. When I was about eight I had a favourite pair of trousers. I wore them too often and liked them a lot. My mother threw them away. As I got older I had more say in what I wore. My wardrobe evolved from around the age of sixteen to become what it is today - I still wear skirts and dresses. Mostly I wear jeans. Occasionally I wear shorts if it's warm enough, cotton lycra is my favourite. My wardrobe is half and half. Half male, half female. Rather like me.

Not that I think it makes me a freak.

Everyone has a male and female side. Not everyone acknowledges it, but some people do. Some men are very aware of their feminine side, and those that do seem to make for a better partner for me. Over the years I have had a lot of experiences, good and bad -  the worst one was a bloke who was the opposite to me - he loved seeing his partner in ultra feminine clothing all the time, 24/7. He tried to use emotional blackmail and verbal bullying to make me wear skirts up to my arse and sheer tops that were virtually see-through, and although this is something I would have happily done for him in the bedroom or occasionally to go out, he wanted it all the time and this made me so unhappy I was constantly depressed. Then to make things even worse he told me he wanted me to flirt with other men while he watched.  I remember that day clearly. I sat frozen at that bar with tears in my eyes because I didn't want to do it. And no, I didn't flirt with anyone. I didn't know how because when I'm in a relationship and love the other person it's not in my nature to flirt. So that relationship ended and when it did, I was very relieved. I could be myself again.

When I started a family I was happy to think that I was going to be a mother at last. But I'm a person who is used to dressing according to the male/female aspects of my inner self and for any woman being pregnant is about giving over to these unavoidable alterations that happen because your body is creating and supporting another human life. Ask any woman you know who has had a child and they will tell you that there is a downside to being pregnant: your body changes shape. Breasts swell and get tender; joints loosen up making sprains more likely. And there is fluid retention, morning sickness, all the while you have the worry of facing the birth, the pain, worrying about yourself, about the baby. But if you add all this into the dimension of a woman who is a cross dresser, now there's another angle too - no control over changing appearance. I had big tits to start with. Okay, that's not a bad thing. But when they swell up even larger and I'm gaining all this weight it becomes a bit like the time I got on a big scary rollercoaster and realised about five minutes after the ride started and I was about to plunge down a steep drop that I wanted to get off, but I couldn't. I had always liked having control over my appearance and found that side of things very hard to deal with. I also had to think of my responsibility to my child - I wanted to be a good role model. To me (at the time) it was about not only being a good parent but about showing a much defined, clear cut feminine role. While I was pregnant I managed to find a balance between customising some of my masculine clothing so it still fitted me and also wearing some female maternity clothes too. But before I gave birth I threw out all my 'boy' stuff because I thought I simply couldn't blur the lines like that in case it left a 'bad' impression on my child.

That wasn't the first time I had thrown stuff out.  I had gone through phases in the past of collecting my male clothes and keeping them in my wardrobe, and then various pressures or misplaced guilt had caused me to make myself stop and be feminine all the time. I know now it was because of pressure within my relationships, or fear of other people thinking badly of me. I now know it was all wrong - I was all wrong - but society has such clearly defined ideas about gender and identity that any one who steps out of that definition will have a hard time one way or another. As things turned out, I was wrong about my child's impression of me. As the years passed she always saw me with long, dyed hair, heavy make up, ultra-feminine clothes, and she turned out to be the most boyish tomboy I could imagine. And it was just her, being natural. Happy to be herself, with no pressure on her to be any different because I had decided before she was born I would allow her to choose and be free in all her expression and behaviour. Seeing her so happy in herself was both a joy and a revelation for me - I realised I had simply been made to feel guilty because of the way I was forcibly moulded as a child. No matter how I dressed she would still be herself and my feminine look had not had any role model effect at all - so time went on and I decided, okay, I'm a cross dresser - so why shouldn't I just enjoy it?

So what am I? I shall define it by answering some common FAQ's and hopefully straighten out a few common misconceptions:

Am I gay or bisexual? No. I am totally straight. As are a large number of cross dressers.

Do I want a sex change? No. I'm happy to be a woman with all the things that go along with it - except that deep down inside, there's a male part of me that likes to come out sometimes. Also the male side of me is one hundred per cent attracted to men only - whether that means the man in me is gay or the female side of me dominates the male side's sexuality is open to philosophical debate and I'm not really interested in that - I'm just happy I have this other dimension because there are many advantages to having a secret side: My male side lends me strength. I can see from both points of view, both the male and the female. I can pull myself through anything because the male side of me is tough. I'm very useful to have around in a fight. Which can be a bit funny if I'm looking feminine at the time - 'he' will just pop up like a jack-in-the-box and sort the problem out. Which can be a bit disconcerting for the person on the receiving end. Last time I did that I was defending an ex of mine who was too drunk to defend himself. I hit the other bloke and it gave him the fright of his life because he thought I was 'just a girl' - he backed right off and even apologised to my ex.

Other advantages - it makes me a better lover. I am very receptive to what men like and why they like it and how they like it. And when I have sex in my male clothes I am still as submissive as when I'm the female me, but I'm more passionate. And I like it that bit rougher, too. And obviously I take it up the arse. But I also take it that way as a female so that’s just something all of me likes, I guess. And I'm very visual. I love to make myself cum over porn. I like pictures and movies. But most of all I like to cum over my partner. Although it’s not easy as a woman to say, I love you, please let me see you naked - especially not in the beginning. Women are usually the ones who wait for the man to say that first but when it comes to firsts I usually jump in there, it's the male side of me needing gratification. So now I hold back and use my imagination until I think the other person knows and understands me well enough, then I can say, I need wanking material - take pics for me! And of course, no matter how much I get comfortable with my alter ego, nothing will ever diminish the thrill I feel when I run my hand over a clothes rail and take a look through the men's clothing! I tend to buy second hand. I do this because for me, if it's already been worn by a man it lends me a bit more maleness when I wear it. And if it's something thats belonged to a lover of mine, even better because then I can enjoy it from the perspective that it has been wrapped around his skin and now it is wrapped around mine.

My happiest relationship regarding cross dressing was with my child's father. In other ways it was stormy mainly because of his temper, his addictions and his unwillingness to change or work on these flaws, but the sexual side was perfect. He got me into all the things I love, or should I say, drew them out of me (that which was already there but frustrated). He wanted to fuck my arse but I was too tight so he started fingering me, until I wanted more fingers..then he fisted me. It led to the most explosive sex I had ever had, after that I loved anal as much as he did. And when he fucked me the regular way I loved being on my back, dominated by him on top of me as he took me in the way only a man can take a woman and the woman in me loved it as much as my male side, when I love I love with the soul of a woman but the heart of a man. He understood that because he was a bisexual transvestite although he kept it very much in the closet and his bisexual ness was limited to kissing a friend of his and possibly a bit of touching as far as I knew but that was about all. Now and then he used to wear my dresses and skirts when we had sex, but only if he was in the mood for it. It was strange to see such a bad boy who was regarded as a local hard man become so feminine in private he went way over the top, but that was just his way. I didn't get excited seeing him in female clothes but I had no problem putting my hand up a skirt - as long as I could be totally sure I would find a cock and pair of balls up there!  I never understood why he used to take my clothes behind my back - I told him it's okay to tell me, I don't mind...but he still hid them! Although I gained an insight on his reasons eventually; some habits are hard to break and if you have had a lifetime of being told not to do something I suppose it becomes a secretive thing through sheer force of habit in the end, sometimes he used to go and see his friends for a drink and leave me at home. Which was fine, because while he was out his wardrobe was all mine! I used to try on his t shirts, his shirts, his suits... I used to pose in the mirror and sometimes lay on the bed touching myself and just enjoying the closeness of his scent wrapped all around me. But one day he went to put on a top and he told me it smelled of me - and it was summer, so it smelled of sweat, too. He told me not to wear his clothes.

Did I listen?

Of course not.

I simply learned to be devious - I had a shower then sprayed myself lightly with his deodorant before I dressed up. This disguised my scent. You see aftershave and deodorant for men smells slightly different on a woman. That's because the female skin is subtly different to a man, but I got away with it - and now understood why he was so secretive about wearing my things!

He loved me dressed in male clothes. If I met him down the pub dressed in jeans and boots and a fleece top with no make up on and my then cropped hair spiked through with gel he would whisper to me that tonight I was going to get a right good fucking. And whether it was vaginally or anally I knew I would either be bent over with my arse in the air or I'd be on my knees sucking him off. These were all the things I enjoyed as a woman anyway but in my male clothes it seemed so much more passionate and dirty. And he always told me to 'fucking swallow my cum you dirty bitch', which I loved because I was a dirty bitch no matter what I was wearing, it made a thrill run through me that just made me want to suck and swallow even harder. I loved it when he dominated me. The female side of me loved to be on my knees to him, licking his shoes and worshipping him, adoring all the beautiful power he had over me as a man while I was below him,  female and submissive, other times I would kiss every inch of him and tell him how much I loved him. That was the woman in me; he brought out both sides in harmony. I wasn't male with him all the time - about fifty-fifty, which was perfect for me. Sometimes I wore a mini skirt and high heels and had no knickers on underneath and let him touch me under the table when I went to the pub to meet him. I once wore a long leather coat and was totally naked underneath it and went round his house like it. He opened the door and I opened my coat. He dragged me in and fucked me on the stairs.

After that relationship ended, I was without a lover for a long time. I didn't go for casual sex and just made do with porn and fantasy. But as time passed I missed letting my other side out and started buying clothes again.

Now my wardrobe is getting back to half male and half female again and I like it. As a woman I wear make up, I have feminine clothes and sometimes the way I dress can be very contrasting. But it makes me happy. I know the way I dress does not affect my family. I know I should do things that make me happy. Life is short and I want to enhance my life as much as I can. So I no longer hide my secret side. I've gone for a shorter hairstyle because it's one that can be feminine or masculine and when I spike it up it's much more 'geezer' and I love that. About ten years ago I had a platinum peroxide bob and it was pure platinum, took a lot of looking after and my hair got very dry no matter how much I paid out for expensive conditioner and hot oil treatments. So I decided to go back to my natural colour for a while. Did I grow it out so it looked a mess with blonde split ends and slutty dark roots? No, I took my boyfriend's clippers and shaved it off on a number one. I loved it because it felt so silky and sexy - plus it made me look very androgynous, and when I wore a tight, low cut top it just seemed to scream to the world 'don't look at my face or my hair, look at my tits!' which was fun I have to admit, plus when I wore male clothes I liked the double take people did, it was not a look as if to say, are you a butch dyke? It was a look that said, are you a boy or a girl? Which I liked a lot, because in that split second, I had been noticed for what the essence of me is - both, the third gender, or what Native American Indians would call a Two Spirit. That’s the essence of what makes me sexy. I have maleness and femaleness in equal measures. Some more answers to questions:

Do I like football or understand the offside rule?

No, I don't know or want to understand football because I don't like it.

Do I drink pints? Yes, in my male clothes I drink lager shandy. As a female I drink coke with ice.

Do I think of myself as a drag king? No. Because I don't strap my tits down or do theatricals like facial hair and I certainly don't wear a fake penis. I know I'm a woman; I just have my own way of expressing my male side. If I wanted to be a drag king I would be a stage performer and I'd probably imitate a certain white boy rapper whose style I like, but I can't dance and my timing is shit so I would be no good at that. I'm happy to just be a cross dresser sometimes.

So what do I do with my 40DD tits when I'm wearing male clothing? I have a good supportive sports bra that holds me in better. It doesn't hold them down, I still have tits of course but male clothing looks better on with a better bra, fact. So I wear a sports bra. Which by the way I wear with some of my female clothing too for the same reason. On the other hand I also have push up bras that make my tits look enormous when I want to get 'em out and make the most of them.  I also wear sexy lingerie if my partner wishes and I make sure that I keep the balance even, that way I find the yin and yang within me is harmonious.

It wasn't always harmonious, but that's because when we are younger we don't really know ourselves properly - only time can make us wise and show us things we need to know and if we are wise we learn along the way. When I was in my early twenties I used to love going out in my jeans and boots and sometimes a male t shirt or a female one, so I was sort of half female and half male in my clothing, I knew I liked it but was not sure why. I always drank with the blokes and had a laugh with them, never flirted though, just enjoyed the company. My female friends did not know (as many do not know to this day), but sometimes I felt a bit stuck in the middle because I'd be out somewhere and all the girls are being very girly and the men are being very manly and the guys are all at the bar and the girls are sitting down having a gossip and I want to do both, I want to sit with the girls for a while, then go over to the bar for the rest of the night - and I'm the only one behaving like it. They had me down as 'one of the lads' who could be very sexy and girly when I made an effort. Men liked me because they could talk to me on equal ground and even confide in me, and my female friends always came to me when they had a problem because I was the strong protective type. That is still true to this day. My different traits come out in different ways but none of them negative. But it was hard to balance all that when I was younger. I had a few boyfriends try and 'change' me. Sorry, but to change me is to take a trip on a road to nowhere - I'm me and that's that. And I like being me. One of my partners called me weird. That hurt. But I learned as time went on that under the skin we all have our own ways that are unique to us, I am not so different to anyone else. I just have my own way of expressing myself and it's not bad or weird or wrong, it's just me.

I check the time. It's still early and he is not here yet. I hate waiting.

Some more facts about me:

I love to be dominated. Not all the time (although I might say so when I'm cumming!) but I love to be worshipping and adoring the man in my life, with me as the submissive female, even when I'm in my male side I am still submissive, adoring the man I love, and no matter what I'm doing I know as I look up at him that I have a female body because I am a woman, I know this because my cunt is hot and swollen with desire and my vagina is leaking juice where it is crying out for his cock to slide into me. I like cum in my face and on my tits. I like it shot on to me while I'm on my knees or I'm lying there helpless and my all-powerful prince is showering me with his spunk. So there you go, submissive female through and through despite my secret side.

It's something I could hide forever.

I could water it down easily. A lot of women wear unisex clothing or mix male and female to a degree. In that way women have it easier - if a man wants to wear female clothing, he gets a hard time over it. That's not fair, but gender roles in western society are so clearly and firmly defined that anyone who crosses that line is made to feel bad about it by less broad minded people. It's just the way the world is even to this day. But as a woman I can indulge a little more freely than most men can without being detected. If I wanted to keep it to myself forever. But I don't. When I say I want to be more open about it I mean I just want to share it with the man I love. I want to share it because I want to hold nothing back and have no secrets. I think most people who know me well and see me on a regular basis know there’s this big contrast in the way I dress sometimes but I've only ever told a few close friends and exes about it. I have kept this side of me to myself for a long time now.  When I'm in a relationship I tend to keep it quiet for a long time, too. That's because I have to be sure that I won't get a nasty reaction or a rejection because when you want to say, this is all of me, nothing hurts more than the other person reacting with anger or behaving like they think there is something wrong with you.

But I don't want to hide it. I love him and I want him to know all of me.

The first time we got together I had made everything so special and perfect; I lit candles all around the bedroom and wrote I love you in rose petals on the bed. I wore a white lace baby doll and silky stockings and when I took him in my arms and kissed him I just melted helplessly and clung to him while he kissed me and his hands slid all over my body. Then he took me to bed and I slowly undressed him, kissing every perfect inch of him as I did so. I lost count of how many times I told him I loved him. And he told me he loved me, too. The first time he made love to me I was on my back and it was like touching heaven to feel him inside me for the first time. With him I could have all the love and everything that was beautiful about love, I was happy to be his woman with him as my lover and sometimes my master too, but I need to share this other side of me because it’s a part of me and until he knows about it he will not know all of me, and I want him to have everything that is me. He has made love to me, fucked me in the arse, fisted me, he loves to spread my legs and lick me till I cum screaming. He has even handcuffed me and taken me by force, a fantasy I had longed to live out for many years. I have been spanked by him, been bathed in his cum and I’ve been down on the floor licking his leather shoes. He’s pissed on me, I’ve kissed his arse and he has let me lick it for him while I got off on serving him so much I came while I was doing it.

He can be loving and tender or firmly dominating, he knows everything that excites me and enjoys playing games. So I need to tell him this about myself. I want him to know.

But all the same, it’s a scary thing to suddenly come out with something that is hard to say. It’s as if I have to squeeze every drop of myself out to make the words come. The woman I am is scared of making the wrong decision. In my heart it feels right to tell him, so I guess I should listen to that because my heart has always been his from the first time our eyes met and when it comes to him it’s my heart I must listen to. I have been thinking long and hard about everything and I can answer any questions he might have. He knows I’m a feminine woman, I’m a naturally sexy woman, I’m outwardly normal and average. It’s just this other side to me he knows nothing about, I have to change that because I never want to hide any part of me away from him. My instinct tells me he will understand but because I’ve had rejections in the past it makes me wary to speak about it.

But he turns the key in the door and comes in.

Time’s up.

No more thinking about it…

He kisses me and I cling to him, loving the scent of his skin and the feel of his embrace. Then he pulls back.

“So what did you want to tell me?” He asks.

I pause. My thoughts have been all the way through my past in the last thirty minutes but it’s hard to come out with it. All I have to do is take a deep breath and say it.

So I do.

“I know I’m quite a feminine person and I like to be submissive in bed,” I say, “But there’s something I like to do that I haven’t told you about and I want to tell you because I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

“Tell me then.” He says.

And he looks at me with such love and acceptance I know I can say anything. It comes out much easier than I expected it to.

“I’m a cross dresser.”

He smiles.

“I know.” He says, “I have noticed you have a few men’s things in your wardrobe. And you have aftershave and perfume on the dressing table.”

I hadn’t expected him to have put two and two together so fast like that.

“Is that okay with you?” I ask him.

He turns me around, bends me over the table and pulls down his zip.

“If you want to act like a boy sometimes,” He says, “You’ll have to get used to taking it from behind more often. And if I catch you dressing up I’ll fuck you in both holes and give you a face full of cum as a punishment.”

“Thank you, Master!” I gasp, as he slides his cock deep inside me.

“I might even let you wear some of my clothes.” He tells me, “I have a few things I don’t wear that might fit you...”

And then he starts to thrust while I balance unsteadily in my six inch heels, the table jolts as he pounds into me and each thrust takes me closer to orgasm.

It’s better than the best ending I expected.

It’s perfect.

The End