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Turnabout Pt. 15

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Reaching for the button to ring our neighbor’s doorbell, I had a sudden case of the jitters. [Holy shit! A bunch of people that know me are about to see that I’m dressed as a woman!] Marie sensed my apprehension and gripped my hand. Was it to steady my nerves or just to prevent me from running away?

The door opened, and we were greeted by Beyoncé and Jay-Z. Of course, it was really Tanisha and Lionel welcoming us to their costume party. But they really looked the part.

Marie introduced me as her sister, Linda, and they played along with that, even giving Linda special attention in welcoming her to the party. They really knew how to put me at ease.

We made a point of complimenting them on their costumes and thanking them for the invitation. A gentle nudge from Marie reminded me to use my feminine voice when speaking. That prompted some mild ribbing from the couple and shared laughs all around.

They then told us we were invited because of someone else’s recommendation. That odd tidbit of information was followed by some unusual instructions. “As first-timers, we must tell you that these costume parties have two rules. Most important is to never ask anyone their name. The persona they presented when they arrived is all anyone wants to be known by for the duration of the party. That especially goes for anyone you already know. They are whoever they are dressed as.”

Marie and I looked at each other quizzically but nodded our understanding.

Beyoncé focused on me. “So, to be clear, tonight, you are Linda, and that’s the only name anyone will call you by. If you happen to know the person who came in dressed as, let’s say, Jack Frost, for tonight, no matter what, with or without a costume, that person is still Jack.”

“No problem,” I said. “It’s your house and your rules.” Marie agreed as well.

I then asked about the second rule. Jay-Z answered, “Rule

: Anything goes. So enjoy.”

Marie was quick to respond. “Did you hear that, Linda? Anything goes. I told you this would be fun.”

Inside we found several dozen people had already arrived and the party in full swing. Scanning the costumed crowd, I noticed that few – if any – of our neighbors or friends were present. Everywhere I looked, I simply saw unknown strangers.

Most everyone had gone to great extremes in creating their costumes, although there were those who were wearing the cheapest, off-the-shelf costumes they could find. Marie’s may have been store-bought, but it wasn’t cheap. And the personal touches she’d added made her stand out. In a good way. Heck! From the moment we stepped through the front door, she had fully embraced the biker babe persona.

Even though this wasn’t a masquerade party, a select few had opted to wear partial or full masks to hide their identity, leaving everyone to guess who was behind them. Seeing that made me wish that I had thought to do the same. Maybe I could have gotten away without anyone we know recognizing that it was me dressed as a woman.

Having her nearby was both a blessing and a curse. Her presence made me feel safe, but it also drew extra attention to me. People couldn’t decide if my attire was a costume of a guy in drag or a woman who had come without a costume.

Moving from room to room, we saw many interesting costumes. They ranged from full body coverings to those going for the sexy, barely-there end of the spectrum. After seeing them, any concerns that my wife’s get-up as a Biker Babe – or as Jay-Z called her, “Biker Bitch” – would be too risqué for the occasion were quickly dismissed.

While scoping out the scene, our path crossed with a married couple we knew from our participation in school functions. They happened to be two of the most straight-laced, tight-assed, holy rollers you’re likely to ever meet. Quite aptly, they were dressed as Ned and Maude Flanders of TV’s The Simpson’s. It was apparent they recognized Marie first. Simply connecting the dots made it easy to figure out that the woman next to her was me wearing women’s clothing.

What was odd, though, was that their cartoonish makeup couldn’t mask the horror on their faces at seeing us there. That awkward moment passed without them saying a word. They gave a subtle nod, a kind of knowing look our way, then walked on.

For some strange reason, the way they acknowledged our presence felt more like we’d been given some sort of secret society handshake.

The dining room had a plentiful array of munchies and other snack foods, and the kitchen was set up as a self-serve bar. That’s where we first saw an unknown couple dressed in hospital garb. While the doctor’s costume looked pretty authentic, The outfit his nurse was wearing was one of those sexy, barely-there get-ups from the party store.

For the time being, food could wait. Alcohol was what I needed. As I downed a quick whiskey shot, Marie made mixed drinks for us. With cocktails in hand, we ventured down to the basement. The center of the room was set up for dancing with some colorful flashing lights erected bursa escort to project onto the dance floor. A DJ was doing his best to get people moving. So far, the blaring music was inspiring very little dancing. Most everyone was gathered in smaller groups shouting and laughing over the music.

Between the lights, the noise, and seeing nothing much happening down there, I said I wanted to go back upstairs. Marie told me to go ahead; she’d be along in a bit. Just as I turned to leave, I felt a gentle tug on my skirt. Turning back, Marie kissed me on my cheek and told me to have fun. “Just remember your voice.” That was the last I saw her for almost an hour.

Being on my own got me to start feeling self-conscious again. This called for more alcohol. While making another drink, I was joined by a guy in a Superman costume. The snug fit of his outfit left little of his physique to the imagination but definitely emphasized his attributes. Especially his maleness. Mother Nature had been extra generous in that area. While doing my best to not stare, I practiced my feminine mannerisms. Nothing over the top, simply moving my head and hands a little more gracefully with a few coy gestures thrown in.

Soon we were chatting, drinking, and nibbling as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Except whenever my eyes inadvertently dropped to Superman’s crotch, my words would catch in my throat. As we talked, he gently touched me, twice. Once, on my wrist. Then again, while complementing my earrings, he pushed some of my errant hair behind my ear. But not without running his fingers through the hair that rested on my shoulder.

Somehow, despite his touches giving me goosebumps, I failed to recognize that I was being flirted with. My failure to respond to Superman’s advances led him to drift off to speak with Little Red Riding hood. I felt like such a dummy. Also, a bit silly for not picking up on his apparent interest in Linda. It was kind of flattering, actually.

I wasn’t alone for long when another Captain Kirk and Nurse Chaple (his wife) approached. A new conversation was struck up, and more drinks were consumed. Every so often, I’d catch myself slipping into my normal voice and have to do a mental reset to stay in character.

No sooner did they move on when still more costumed characters would approach, yielding to more drinks and conversations. (By this point, so I wouldn’t pass out, my drinks were greatly watered down.)

Evidently, Marie and I had done such a convincing job of turning me into a female that the one question that came up more than anything was how come I wasn’t in costume. Well, why blow a good thing? If they found Linda to be that believable, they would believe anything. So I created a story about being invited at the last minute and unable to put anything together on such short notice. “So I guess I’m just plain old, Linda.”

Still, seeing so few people I knew while being so openly welcomed by these total strangers gave me that strange feeling again. Like I had fallen into a sort of a secret society.

After being accepted as Linda by so many (and I don’t know how many drinks), I felt totally at ease with how I was dressed. Even walking in heels had become more fluid, and my feet didn’t hurt as badly as they once had. Also, the more I said, and the longer I spoke softly and in a higher register, the less I had to think about it.

This new relaxed attitude in playing Linda made me increasingly approachable, someone folks wanted to get to know. Or it just might have been the alcohol. Anyway, so many total strangers introduced themselves to me (always remaining in their chosen character) only to start some small talk about nothing in particular. This was especially true among the men.

(Dummy me. Once again, it didn’t click for some time before I caught on that in almost every case, I was being flirted with.)

A couple dressed as Greek gods in togas and I were talking when in the corner of my eye, I noticed Marie approaching from the direction of the powder room. As she got closer, I noticed she wore a devilish smile. As I was in mid-sentence, she grabbed hold of me, bent me backward, and locked her lips to mine. In an instant, my mouth was flooded with thick, hot cum. Startled or not, conditioning caused me to accept the gift, savor its flavor, and swallow slowly. Marie was still kissing me when I looked past her to the side and saw Captain Kirk emerging from the same powder room. The smile on his face left little doubt about who’s cum I was drinking.

Throughout our kiss, the couple I had been conversing with stood by smiling broadly. When the cum exchange was complete, Biker Babe apologized for interrupting, “But I just had to share that with my sister.” Standing upright again and stunned by what she said to these strangers, I began to choke on the wad of cum sliding down my throat. This caused some of the cum still held in my mouth to dribble down my chin.

Zeus and Aphrodite smiled as Biker Babe swiped her finger

up bursa escort bayan my chin to push the cum back between my lips. “Don’t waste it, Linda,” she scolded.

It was too late to do anything but play along. Swallowing the last of it, I replied, “No. I wouldn’t want to waste that delicious cream.” The other couple nodded in agreement. A glint in Zeus’s eyes gave the impression that he wanted to offer up some of his own.

After some additional small talk, Biker Babe and I excused ourselves to get a bite to eat. We filled a plate with munchies, made new drinks, and took everything out to the enclosed patio. The patio wasn’t heated, but because the large sliding door had been left open, it was still warmer than the outside temperature. “Did you like your surprise?” she asked. I didn’t need to answer. She already knew. What I did ask was how it came about.

“I must have forgotten to lock the door when I went in to take a piss. I had just gotten started when the door suddenly opened. It was a guy I had been talking to earlier. I guess we were both a little drunk and slow to react. But there I was, sitting on the john taking a piss. It must have turned him on by catching me in such a compromising position because instead of backing out, he just walked on in. Maybe it was the biker bitch ‘fuck you attitude coming through, but when I didn’t tell him to leave, he shut and locked the door behind him. I gave him the finger, parted my legs, and leaned back so he could watch me pee.

“The next thing I know, he’s got his cock out. I thought he was going to piss between my legs … or piss on me. Instead, he pulled me forward and put his cock into my mouth.

And, well, you know the rest. I think Captain Kirk was really hoping to fuck me. Maybe it was because of the way he seemed to assume that I would do what he wanted, but I wasn’t going for that. So sucking him off seemed like the next best option. His cum did taste good, though, didn’t it?”

I smiled, “You do realize what a total cum slut you’ve turned me into, don’t you? Yes, it was very delicious.” All of which was said in my most sultry, sexy, feminine voice. “Of course, if you had let him fuck you, I would have had to throw you onto this table and eat that creampie right here in front of everyone.” Picturing that had Marie’s eyes about bugged out of their sockets.

After finishing our food and emptying our glasses, we rejoined the party. But first, it was my turn to drain the ol’ bladder. So while Marie wandered off to make another drink for herself, I waited my turn to use the toilet. Once inside, I made it a point to lock the door behind me. I wasn’t there to be watched as I peed and certainly had no intention of sucking anyone’s cock.

Oh, yeah. And Marie was right. That small opening in the tape she left when binding my junk to hide everything between my legs worked just as she said it would. With my penis stretched and pulled back, my piss went straight into the bowl. It even made the same soft whizzing sound I’ve often heard when she pees.

The skirt I wore had a convenient little pocket sewn into the waistband where Marie had tucked a tube of lipstick and a small perfume bottle for when I needed to freshen up. I was in the perfect place to do so.

With a fresh coat of lipstick and lightly scented, I confidently exited the powder room. I instantly noticed that the attendees were getting looser and less inhibited. Evidently, two women decided to have a competition to see which one could tongue kiss more random men. Well, their little competition quickly caught on like wildfire. Seeing how the other husbands were volunteering to help the cause inspired their spouses to also get in on the action. Even our hostess, Tanisha, was taking part. Soon, just about every woman was moving from man to man just to see how many men she could tongue-tussle with.

It goes without saying that the honor of biker babes everywhere was at stake. Marie had quickly jumped right in there to beat them all.

When all was said and done, the unofficial count had Marie coming in second. (Possibly losing because of the long kiss she exchanged with the captain.)

Of course, seeing this free-spirited fun had many of the guys pretty worked up, not wanting it to end. The opportunity to kiss someone other than their spouse in mixed company was not something to be passed up.

The tides quickly turned. Now it was the men’s turn to kiss as many women as possible. Heck yeah! I wanted to play this game and took a step towards some pretty thing I had just watched give some serious tongue as she had made the rounds.

Oops! Marie snagged me before I could take a second step. For a moment, I had forgotten that I was not there as a man but as a woman. Just as quickly, it sank in that, as a supposed woman, I had missed my turn by not participating in the first competition. That is if I had wanted to kiss another man. [NOT!]

That sparked a whole new problem. As far as any of these drunken men knew or cared, I was escort bursa an eligible woman to tongue wrestle with. No sooner had I attempted to fade into the background when my wife shot an “Oh, no, you don’t” glare in my direction, silently telling me not to back away. With that one look, I knew I had better remain in character, smile seductively, and play along. I hadn’t soul kissed anyone but my wife since before we married. And now I was expected to do so with a man!

Just the thought of me lip-locking with other men had me breaking out in a sweat. And because I was expected to let these men shove their tongues into my mouth made my stomach turn.

Somehow, as the first guy approached, I stood fast with a welcoming smile plastered on my face. He was dressed as Prince Charming and one of the few men wearing a mask covering the top half of his face. As he took me into his arms and pulled me to him, his lips touched mine, AND… I didn’t lose my lunch! Instead, my stomach relaxed.

I hadn’t a clue who he was. And I’d bet anything that he had no idea who I was either. But this man kissed me with the softest lips I may have ever felt. Without any conscious thought on my part, my lips parted, and his breath became mine. He slid his tongue into my mouth so gently yet with such passion that I felt my knees begin to buckle.

Our tongues playfully explored and danced with each other. The effortlessness with which I returned his kiss shocked me. It was as if this was the most natural thing in the world for me to do. With a wink of his eye, he moved on to his next target.

Marie was grinning from ear to ear. “You go, girl!” was all she said.

As you’d expect, the select few men who had figured out that I was masquerading as a woman didn’t approach. But once they saw me accept being kissed by my first man, they knew I was trapped into following through or else be exposed. They did, however, seem fascinated in watching as I received and returned the kisses of the unsuspecting.

It turned out that I was entirely lucky that the first guy to break this barrier had been the best kisser there. Maybe it was just because of the amount of alcohol we all had consumed or simply nervousness about kissing strange women. Still, most of these other guys were not very good kissers. Although that didn’t prevent some from being extra grabby – copping feels of my chest and butt. One was forward enough to place his hand on my crotch and suggest we go somewhere to fuck.

I had interacted with enough of these men as Linda to understand them wanting to flirt with her. But this guy’s aggressive approach shocked me. I wanted to grab him by the balls and throw him across the room. But preserving my identity took precedence, so I smiled and said, “Thanks, but maybe some other time.”

Then there was the short, bald man wearing nothing more than a diaper while pretending to be Baby Herman from the movie Roger Rabbit. He, too, was true to form. Removing the rubber cigar from his mouth just long enough to score a kiss proved his true character was the same as the one he was portraying. Having gotten what he came for, he gruffly remarked, “I’ll be looking for you when my diaper needs changing.” [Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.]

I guess it was the third guy to kiss me who was declared the winner for kissing more women than anyone else. Anyway, while the winner was being announced, I noticed Marie had wandered off again.

As I scanned the house for her, Zorro asked me to dance with him. [Gulp!] The music downstairs was pounding a solid beat, so I figured what harm would a fast dance cause. Nothing intimate about that. Doing my best to remain composed and in character, I softly answered, “Yes. Sure. Why not?”

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, a disco tune was playing, so I began to boogie with my new friend. There was nothing sexy or provocative about it. We were just two people having a good time. Only as that tune faded a slow dance began to play. Before I could slink off, he took me into his arms, much as he’d done before, and drew me close. This was not what I had in mind when I agreed to dance with a guy. Add to that, I was also all out of sorts because I had to dance backward to what I grew up doing.

It took me several bars of music to get in step, but everything felt more natural once I’d worked it out. Holy crap! I was actually doing this. I was slow dancing with Zorro. The mystery man behind the mask.

Midway through the tune, I’m not sure how it happened or who initiated it, but we shared a very, VERY tender kiss. Right then, I knew I was experiencing something otherworldly. His warm, firm embrace and the shared passion of our kiss left no doubt in my mind that my soul wore the mark of Zorro. Suddenly I felt almost weightless. This kiss seemed to last forever, yet not long enough.

When the song ended, I came back to reality. I knew I had to stop this before things went too far. If they hadn’t already. This was something I had to tell my wife about.

I thanked him for the dance and the kiss and turned to leave. But catching the pained look in his eyes caused something to come over me. I turned back and gave him another squeeze and a brief wet kiss on his lips. He smiled sweetly and asked, “Will I ever see you again?”

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