Peta's Valentines Day Weekend

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A story of Peta's transformation over Valentine's weekend.
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Day 1 of Valentine's Day Weekend

Peter Longbury was an investment banker in the City. When taken into overall balance, life had been pretty good to him. He was successful in his specialist area of micro-derivatives; this allowed his clients to make risk transactions with smaller amounts of money and increasing complex sophistication in their structure, the success being driven by the small fees involved. The market had really taken to his products and he had benefitted by substantial income and bonuses coming his way. He had even gained notoriety in the City for his advertising line that his bank had passed onto their advertising agency, "If you can think of it, you can finance it."

Peter enjoyed a good, and some would say, a luxurious life. He had an apartment in London and a nice Surrey country house. He had a Porsche Cayenne Turbo as well as a couple of old MGBs; he was member of a prestigious golf club and he enjoyed cooking and wine. His job and wealth meant that he could travel and sample the best restaurants; he had gradually found that his preference was for small boutique inns, especially for down-time. He could enjoy the amenities, the food and there were often well-heeled and educated locals at the bar with whom he could strike up a conversation.

Peter finished up his work early on this Friday afternoon. He had enjoyed a client lunch and then gone back to the office to ensure that his risk portfolio was being balance by his team before sending out a number of minor e-mails. He was free by 3.30pm and was able to 'escape' with out any last minute Friday panics from others that so often seemed to delay his weekend getaways. With a sense of relief, he put on his blue Crombie coat and managed to get out of the main doors to quickly hail down a taxi to take him to Waterloo Station. In the back of the black cab, he let out a long sigh of pleasure and thought about the weekend ahead.

It was Valentine's Day weekend and his family, unfortunately, were away for it; his eldest girl was now at University studying Geography and Marine Coastal Management and the youngest on her 'gap year,' working on a volunteer programme in Chile so that she could really learn Spanish. Therefore, Peter had the weekend to himself and could indulge himself in his other passion. He had thought he would spend the weekend away and be pampered on with some good food and wine, so he had made a reservation at one of his favourite places.

The cab quickly sped him to Waterloo; he paid up, leaving a generous tip, and headed for his train. Having bought a coffee-to-go at Costa's, he settled down in first class. The train moved out, off the platform, and picked up speed on its way to Clapham Junction and then direct to Guildford where he had left his car for a quick get-away. The carriage was peaceful and far from full; it wasn't rush-hour yet. His mind soon wandered to the arrangements for the weekend. Was there anything that he needed to get in Guildford before he set off?

The train pulled into Guildford and Peter soon found his car. Within ten minutes, he was onto the A3, heading up the first part of the Hog's Back and towards the South Coast. The 525hp engine was purring and it was an easy drive down to Petersfield, on to Catherington and across country, bypassing Havant and Portsmouth, to his destination, the beautiful old village of Elmsworth.

His goal was a lovely small restaurant-cum-hotel with a starred Michelin restaurant, 36 at the Quay. The 17thC. inn was situated right on the quayside, with stunning views overlooking Emsworth harbour. It was ideal for Peter, and almost top of his favorite short get-away places, with its two nicely appointed suites and four en-suite rooms. Though not fully to his taste, it was nicely furnished with comfortable furniture in the wonderful framework of the exposed beams, many of which dated back to the original 15th C building, before it was reconstructed.

Peter checked in and headed upstairs to the top suite overlooking the harbour. It was a spacious and airy room with a large king bed and with a seating area, as well as a window bench overlooking the water and the boats bobbing around. The beamed walls were white and the furniture and textiles were a mixture of light chocolate and pale yellow and white colour. The bathroom, though relatively small, was fully equipped with modern bathroom furniture and a nice, nice huge mirror.

Peter ordered some tea and unpacked his two suitcases and his laptop. With a nice cup of tea at hand, he logged on and his in-box was free of anything urgent so he focused on finding a Literotica story. He moved to the Transgender section, located one of his favourites, "Matt becomes Mattie," and settled down for a good read of the latest chapter.

Yes, Peter was an avid crossdresser.

He had been dressing since University days when his then girlfriend had got him to wear her damp panties; she had then introduced him to the joys of suspenders and stockings and, finally, the pleasure of a bra. It wasn't long before they were buying female clothes in addition to his and hers lingerie, and he was on the long slippery road to enjoying the feminine ways of life. His girlfriend enjoyed being dominant and introduced Peter to many aspects of bdsm sex and, consequently Peter had acquired a taste for her used panties and bras. In addition, Peter had learned how properly to give oral pleasure to her and her friends, as well as being able to take a strap, or a hard cock, in his rear love channel or his mouth.

This interest had always stayed with him. Like most cross-dressers, he had been through the 'accumulate and burn' phases that run with the pleasure and guilt feelings of the obsession. Now, though, he loved to express his female side and especially on such weekends away. He had four things going for him, firstly a slender waif-like body with a low-slung bottom; secondly, small hands and feet and no prominent Adams-apple; thirdly, he had had voice training to elevate his pitch; and, fourthly, a good dress sense and, it must be said, the financial means to achieve it.

This wasn't his first weekend away as a woman in the area and he had the advantage of having various service 'suppliers' on the South Coast.

Having finished the story and his tea, Peter started the feminisiation process that would occupy the next twenty-four hours.

He started by running a nice warm bath with some scented bath salts in and then he had a close cut-throat shave of his face followed by using the blade across his chest area so as to ensure smooth fixing of his silicon breasts. The rest of his hair removal would wait until the morrow.

Peter was 5 foot 7, weighed 145 pounds and therefore his slender sizes allowed him to wear a 36C bra, medium sized panties and suspender and between a size 10 dress, cut and style depending. He was blonde with all his hair intact, with little body hair, grey-eyed, and nice soft skin that helped his make-up really work.

The shaving over, he jumped into the bath and took a long soak, reflecting again on what he had planned and the things that could happen this weekend. Eventually, he climbed out of the luxuriant tub, wrapped himself in the large, fluffy bath-towels and dried himself off. He sat down in front of the bathroom mirror and went to work on his make-up, working deftly and professionally in his application. He would save the best for tomorrow. He used Chanel foundation cream, blusher, some light mascara and eye make up in beige and brown colours and then a natural red-purple lipstick, also a Chanel product, an Allure 'Emotive'.

Peter went into the bedroom and pulled out a blonde bob-cut wig and came back into the bathroom to fix this into place with clips. It was made of natural hair and was thick in texture, dark blonde underneath with very light highlights. He positioned it and clipped it into his own hair. Petroula, or rather Peta, the Greek for St Peter and the Rock, was beginning to emerge.

Finally, he was ready to fully transform. He took his C asymmetric cup breasts that he had bought way back in Germany, applied medical glue, and put them into position; they would be good for the long Valentine's weekend that he had planned. He thought that they looked really stunning, their pert dark pink nipples protruding nicely just like the real ones he so adored. Tomorrow, he would apply stage make-up he had so as to blend them fully into his natural skin.

Once more into the bedroom, Peter, now a she, chose a Fantasie black Florence set. Peta slipped her arms into a two thirds black bra that was covered with a delicate lace onto a sultry fabric base. Though largely all black, there was a light white floral colour running through the lace and the top of her breasts were covered in transparent gauze.

Peta took the suspender belt that was in the same style as the bra but mostly finished in the lacy gauze, except the garters that had black solid straps. Onto these, she rolled a pair of new black stockings with lace tops up her legs. They felt wonderful with just a slight tug on the thigh from the tension on the four garters. Finally she slid into her black briefs with their solid front panel covering her boy-clit, the side panels were the same as the suspenders and the top of the bra in the thin transparent lace.

Over her lingerie, Peta donned a cream blouse, a just-below-the-knee charcoal grey skirt and a long dark grey wool cardigan. A pair of matt black low heeled court shoes and she was almost there. She chose a pearl necklace, pearl clip ear-rings and a couple of gold bangles for her jewellery and finished with a spray of her perfume, a Bulgari she had recently got from Paris. A quick glance in the mirror and this gorgeous blonde stared back at her; it was hard to believe that underneath the clothing lay a man, a successful banker in the City.

Peta went downstairs to the bar, sat down and ordered a glass of 'The Crossings' Sauvignon Blanc. She was so convincing that, unless very close up, one couldn't tell if she was not a female.

Through to dinner she went and treated herself to 36's magnificent food. Chef Ramon Farthing and his team were on form and Peta dined on a starter of Quail breast roasted, and legs confit, served with seared with seared chicken livers and caramelised apple; this was followed by Turbot Supreme, gently pan-roasted on echine infused potatoes with shimiji mushrooms and baby leeks. She quaffed on another glass of the white wine and then moved to two glasses of the sister pinot noir. A wonderful cheese selection and a sumptuous desert took the meal to its end, with Peta enjoying a glass of a South African desert wine, an Elgin 2008.

With coffee and a glass of port, Peta was more than sated and she went for a short stroll down the quayside, enjoying the fresh air. With no one to chat to, other than the staff, she decided to retire and prepare herself for her day's play tomorrow. She got back to her room and got out of her clothing, leaving her in the lovely lingerie she had worn for dinner. She pulled out an almost floor-length pink silky nightie with spaghetti straps and a plain drop front and climbed into it. She tackled her make-up and climbed into bed.

Soon her mind started to stray, reflecting back on those student days when her then girlfriend would take her. Peta's hand moved to her growing and excited clit, beginning to gently frot it through the nightie and the soft black fabric of her panties.

Her mind turned to being queened by his old girlfriend. She would stand above him admiring her handiwork in how she had transformed him into a rather stunning woman and that she had the both of best worlds here, effectively lesbian sex with a cock to ride. He would contemplate her bottom and the submission that he was about to render her. His girlfriend would slowly lower herself, opening her legs to give erotic glimpses of her expectant pussy and anal rosebud, and her sex aroma would slowly fill his nostrils and permeate his brain.

Peta's hand moved quicker over her nightie and panties into masturbation, but not actually directly fingering her gurl-clit. The vision of the girlfriend's globes enveloping his head and forcing Peta's nose into pleasuring her anus and tongue into the creamy, delicate folds of her pussy was almost realistic. The joy of the taste and smell as the girlfriend frigged herself off on Peta was there.

Quickly, Peta built her excitement and the now hard clit stiffened itself up to release the tension, to unload into her silky panties. The moment came and Peta felt the orgasmic pleasure not only surge through his clit to its little rose head but the numbing feeling of the orgasm as it washed his brain. Nothing else, just the pleasure of cumming hard as Peta's girlfriend had so often unleashed herself and spurted into Peta's mouth.

Peta came down off her mountain, her panties and the front of her pink nightie wet with cum. "Bugger it," she thought, "I can get it through the laundry service tomorrow." The inn had a service and beautifully presented clean lingerie, wrapped in tissue, in a basket, with a flower of the season. Peta was soon asleep in her lovely, girly world, wrapped in the folds of her lingerie and nightie.

Day 2 of Valentine's Day Weekend

Mid-February morning sunlight streamed through the window from the harbour. Peta slowly woke and revelled in her feminity. Should she have another masturbation session was the question on her mind but then she decided to save her cum for later. She rose, put on a matching silk robe to the nightie, toileted, and ordered up breakfast. As she waited for it to arrive, she removed the last of her make-up and closely shaved.

There was a knock on the door and a Continental breakfast was brought in on a tray: a fresh pot of coffee freshly squeezed OJ, home-made muesli; natural yogurt with fresh fruit; a basket of warm toasted breads; pastries served with unsalted butter, marmalade, jam and honey. All were delicious. And the breakfast tray came with a copy of the FT and the weekend Telegraph. Peta had a cursory read of the FT, deciding that the weekend paper and crosswords could wait for later.

Breakfast over, Peta put a shower cap on and took a long shower, washing her nooks and crannies carefully. A dry down, some basic make-up and a session using her stage make-up to blend the breasts into her skin colour, she was ready to dress. Peta wanted to keep it simple so she selected a peach Barbara 'Divine' set. The bra was very plain in its peach cups and straps but over the lower cups, there was a black lace covering with a leaf pattern in it. The same was true with the brief, peach fabric with a front panel shaped as a v down to her crotch in the same black material but with three black lines, two of which were angled with her groin, running down to the top of her vaginal area. Over this, she put some carbon coloured ribbed leggings as it was a little chilly outside.

Peta took an ivory 'salt' coloured cashmere stitch top as her day wear. It was extremely comfortable due to the loose fit and roomy sleeves. With this, she paired a black and navy high-waisted polka dot skirt. The waist band was some two inches wide and the band was replicated with a one inch strip on the hem; there were four pleats that gave a lot of shape to the skirt, almost hinting that it had pockets.

Peta finished off the ensemble with carbon black pixie booties with nice long laces. She wore her pearl jewellery from last night, also adding a pearl Chanel watch. Her perfume was a Chanel Sensuelle. Peta took her dark grey long cardigan from last night and slipped into that and finally her matching sac bag with her essentials in it.

She grabbed her newspaper, headed out of the hotel and took a short walk over to a nearby up-market coffee shop, the Greenhouse, located in a lovely old Georgian building with a wonderful black and gold clock on its gable. A nice long latte, a catch up of the news, the start of the prize crossword and Peta was set up for the day. She headed back to the hotel and picked up her Cayenne and drove out of Emsworth, heading east along the coast.

Her trip wasn't a long one, only twelve miles to Chichester on its east side; her destination was one of her favourite beauty treatment salons. She had been a client of them for some years and the staff were totally at ease in treating Peta as one of their female clients. She had got to know of it by meeting the owner, Jessica, at a dinner party and, eventually, had the gumption to call her up, admit to her dressing, and whether Jessica would consider taking her on.

Peta parked up and entered the salon. Jessica was there and greeted her with a kiss, cheek to cheek, as in a French greeting. They agreed to meet for lunch in a local wine bar, Nº 12. Jessica passed Peta over to her second, Donna, and off to one of the treatment rooms they headed.

Firstly, after Peta had removed her leggings and skirt, Donna waxed her legs; Peta always enjoyed the feeling of stockings against her freshly naked legs when the waxing effect had cooled down. Then Donna asked her to lie on her back on the bed so that she could give a Brazilian. Donna had done this before so was used to handling Peta. With no embarrassment, Donna took of her cashmere top and lowered her panties. Donna commented on how nice the set and indeed she always had nice lingerie on when Peta visited the salon. They had a chat about lingerie and Peta shared information on the brand and where to get them in London as they were a new style to the market.

Donna applied the wax to Peta's mons, ensuring that all around her clit was smothered and then removed it. It wasn't too painful as Peta had been treated before and kept her mons pretty well stripped. Donna completed the genital area waxing by asking her to turn over and making it a bottom strip as well, something Peta always found unnerving. The final stage was for Peta to unclasp her bra and have a back wax, that area that most crossdressers and transvestites find hard to keep stripped of hair, even if very fine. Donna gave Peta thirty minutes of massage which was heavenly, and almost put her to sleep, despite one or two naughty thoughts about taking either Donna or Jessica.

This took Peta up to lunch and she re-dressed and went and looked for Jessica. Having found her, they walked over to Nº 12 and ordered a bottle of a good Chablis, along with a fish platter comprising of a selection of Tempura prawns, marinated anchovies, crispy calamari and mussels farci served with freshly cut homemade bread. They chatted about their businesses, how their families were doing, and fashion, all very girly. Jessica commented how she would love to see Peta in her absolute finery and, laughing, how she could even be tempted to take her. Laughter. Conversation turned to more sexual matters and Peta's experiences as a woman, as well as Jessica's own bisexual preference. They ordered some chocolate torte and coffees, talking about their plans for Valentine's Day. Jessica was almost apologetic that Peta was by herself. "If only I had known..."

Peta paid up the account and headed back to the salon. There, she had a pedicure and manicure to set her up for the evening, choosing a burnt red nail varnish for both toe and finger nails. Jessica suggested some arching of eyebrows and personally did the shaping for her; Peta loved the look. Settling the bill and a farewell and thanks to the staff and a kiss for Jessica, Peta headed back on the A259 to the Hotel.

Back in Emsworth, Peta took a short nap back in her room and then treated herself to tea and the rest of the Telegraph cryptic crossword. The extensive waxing had taken it out of her but now that her skin was recovering, she felt good, knowing that her skin was totally devoid of hair under her eyebrows. It was now 5pm so she stripped down around, having run a warm bath and prepared her clothing for tonight's dinner. She went and relaxed in the bath, idly reading some of the room's magazines. She admired Donna's work and her hands drifted slowly over her body, tempted to bring herself off in the warm water. She managed to refrain herself.