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I did look amazing but was racked with guilt and the thought that if anyone knew what I was doing I would be shunned, an outcast. I loved the look and got so turned on I had to kneel down and play with myself, watching all the time. It worked, and it was truly wonderful. Over the next twenty years I did it increasingly until one day I found myself alone and divorced. The idea came to me that since I still loved dressing and wanted to do it more that maybe I should try going a bit further. I went on the net and found some places where I could get underwear and makeup and stuff without the embarrassment of having to go into a shop and explain that I was getting something for my girlfriend. It made it easier, and I could indulge myself. Eventually I had the whole lot. I had lingerie, high heeled shoes, make up, perfume, wigs, jewelry and a selection of dresses. I got better at putting on makeup and always had plenty of mirrors around so I could see myself fully dressed. I enjoyed it so. The boy was so far gone but was just aware enough that he knew what I was doing and smiled in approval. I scooted up placing my thighs on his hips, I lined up the best I could and sat down just enough. I tried riding him the best I could but soon the blood in his member just dissipated and I realized I was sitting on the lap of a half-naked man in the middle of the street with a soft cock part way inside me. ‘Oh my God,’ I shouted as I laughed. My ass cheeks were turning red from the cold air passing across my skin. I stood up and took a moment to think of a way I could still have sex tonight. I twisted my panties back into place and straightened my skirt before helping the boy with his pants. ‘Come on ya whiskey dick son of a bitch.’ I said out loud wanting him to hear. ‘Holy shit,’ I thought to myself, knowing there was another horny guy out in the world wanting a warm moist place to rest his cock. ‘Where’s the other guy?’ I said out loud ‘your friend? Where is he?’ It was mostly.
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