My FWB is 100% homosexual, not bi. He's not a member here, but sometimes reads over my shoulder. For some reason the thread Crossdressing, Who's Into It? has grabbed his attention, and being familiar with my past, he's started to nag me to dress for him. We've played with panties and stockings, and finally went the whole hog, with a grooming morning, a little post dipilatory fucking, exploring the new smoothness with hands and tongue, and a shopping trip.
A couple of nights ago we decided to go public at a "friendly" club here in Florida. He drove as I have not mastered the art of driving in 4 inch heels although I have no trouble walking in them. The club was typical, dark with synchronized lights flashing to totally boring EDM (electronic dance music), an active bar, small tables, waiters and waitresses serving in provocative clothing (or lack thereof) and moderately expensive drinks and nibbles.
We danced for a while, and enjoyed polite cut-ins, dancing with several others, men and women, and enjoying ourselves. There were other crossdressers in evidence, some more successful than others, but all having a good time.
I was dancing with another "gurl" when a hand reached around me and lips near my ears said, "Wanna dance, babe?" The breath was bad, the body odor was bad, and the hand groping my chest was dirty, especially the fingernails. I spun out of his grip and said, "No, not with you." He reached out and grabbed the front of my new silk blouse. I was outraged and being the lady I was, I slapped him across the face saying, "Get your fucking hands off me!" And that's when some members of the club staff spun him away from me. After some commiserations and a comped drink things settled down and my friend and I resumed our pleasant evening.
There came a moment when I had to pee. And I'm sure you all realize that when dressed in heels and a tight skirt, it's no simple thing to pee. Part of the enjoyment of dressing is the constrained walk that a tight skirt and high heels enforces, but in the cubicle it's just a pain in the ass.
Amyhow, I pushed my way into the unisex toilet only to be confronted by the smelly redneck from earlier who grabbed me by the neck muttering, "Lessee who slaps who now." I broke his grip on my neck simply by putting my arms inside his and pushing out. Fighting in a tight skirt and heels in difficult and when he grabbed my shoulders and began pushing down, muttering something about a blowjob I went with the flow, sinking to my knees, ruining a nice expensive pair of black stockings, but delivering a rather firm uppercut directly into his smelly balls. He hit the floor, hard. That's when my friend, alerted by the noise, came in, sized up the situation, helped me up to my feet, and unencumbered by tight clothes and heels, insured that Mr. Redneck wasn't going to be dancing, or walking, receiving blowjobs or anything else for a long while.
We decided it was time to leave before we had to explain to anyone what happened. The drive home didn't do much to quell the adrenaline storm raging within both of us, but the extended sex, which lasted well into the morning did the trick. Now it's a question of do I let the body hair grow back or keep smooth from the eyebrows down. I'll discuss it with my friend and see where we go from here.
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