Michele Nylons' Stories Ch. 03

"I hope you haven't wrinkled these; how the fuck will I explain that at work," he complained stepping into his shorts and buckling the belt around his girth.

He slipped on his golf shirt and squeezed his feet into sports socks and trainers. He stood up and closed in on me, looking me in the eye and seeing my disappointment.

"Hey don't worry Michele, maybe next time you can come."

He grabbed my buttocks and squeezed them.

"Fuck you've got a great arse; next time we might go a bit further if you know what I mean," he laughed, slapping me on the buttocks and striding out the room.

I followed him down the stairs my heels clattering on the wooden treads. At the bottom of the staircase he stopped and surveyed my flat, which was an open plan with combined kitchen, lounge and dining room.

"Yeah, not a bad pad you've got here; just the job for this sort thing. Nice stuff you have too," he said indicating my furniture and accessories with his chin.

Now, although I was sexually frustrated, I just wanted this man gone out of my home.

"Yes, well thanks Peter, if you could just leave through the front door and watch out for any nosey neighbours," I asked, my red painted fingernail pointing at my front door.

"Fuck that," he said, "I parked around the back in your car space," he snarled heading for the kitchen door which led out to my back porch and the home unit complex car park.

"But I asked you to park out front on the street; what do say if anyone sees you leaving?" I implored.

"Don't panic Michele, it's the middle of the afternoon, who the fuck will be interested in your comings and goings?" he said over his shoulder and went out the door.

I flicked the lock and watched him stride to his car, a big four-wheel drive with the logo of a local Government department on the door. Just what I needed if one of my neighbours asked why a man from a certain Government department had paid a visit to my house in the middle of the day. My mind was already inventing a story to cover the situation. My head was spinning; Peter had been in my house for only twenty minutes!

I resolved that I had seen the last of Peter; he would not be invited back. I would like to report that I did something spiteful to take revenge for the way I had been treated but I'm afraid I have to be honest. I went back into the bedroom and masturbated thinking of Peter's stumpy fat cock shooting stream after stream of hot semen into my mouth.

Peter kept calling me over the next week, again mainly late at night and mostly drunk. He apologised for his behaviour and promised that next time we met he would treat me nice and even promised me sexual gratification. I begged him off each time and in the end I requested that he stop calling me when he was drunk.

All went well until about two weeks later on a Saturday when I was at home doing my housework. I had had an encounter the previous evening and was expecting another that night and my body was fully shaved and my toenails still painted. Other than that I was in drab (dressed as a man for the uninitiated) just wearing a pair of short shorts, shirt-less and barefoot as the day was particularly hot. I was vacuuming the lounge room tiles and rug when I couldn't believe my eyes; there was Peter striding across my front lawn!

He saw me through the sliding glass doors and came directly to my front door, which was open, with just the screen door closed and locked. I went to the door, as he had seen me it was pointless pretending I wasn't home.

"What the fuck are you doing here," I demanded through the locked screen door, "I never see any admirers except when I'm dressed as Michele!"

"My wife's away so I thought I would see if you might be interested in meeting," he replied.

"What? Is your phone suddenly broken! Get the fuck out of here! Do you think I sit around the house all day dressed in drag hoping someone comes around for an uninvited fuck!" I was really angry now.

"Well you won't answer my calls any more," he bleated.

"And I won't be answering them ever again," I exploded and slammed the door.

I watched through the glass doors as he sauntered away. I closed the blinds and got myself a stiff drink. I realised now how the situation was; this guy was infatuated with me but unable to come to terms with his lust for a Transvestite. He would only call me when he was drunk and horny, or when his sexual urges overcame his trepidation. I made the decision then and there that I would never see this guy again.

Peter kept calling but I refused to answer his calls. Even worse I would occasionally see his car parked in my street and see him sitting behind the wheel watching my house. As it turned out, I was moving house in a few weeks to new apartment and I was glad when I finally did. By then Peter had stopped calling and I hadn't seem him outside my unit for a while, but I was still relieved when I finally moved.

As a footnote, do you know the prick had the cheek to call me about three months later!

"I was just going through my mobile phone and deleting all the numbers I no longer use," Peter said.

"I'm really sorry if I upset you and I was wondering if there was any chance we could get together." he practically begged.

"Not a fucking chance!" I replied and hung up, safe in the knowledge he had no idea where I lived.

Peter is this guy's real name by the way. Peter if you are out there and read this story, FUCK YOU!!!

Footnote:

For the information of my avid readers, I intend to complete the "Whores and Pimps" series next, as I am aware that I have left the story hanging. I also intend to add another instalment of "Planet of Men" which unfortunately does not appear to be very popular.

I also have a few more "True Stories" to tell; but I am getting the urge to reprise "Lady In The House", which I believe was my best work. I think Michele got off too lightly at the end of the series and may need to go back working for Eddie and Steve in the Chelmsford prison brothel.