Crossdressing in London
Settle back and let me tell you what happened when I was crossdressing in London. It wasn’t the first time I had been to the big city as I often visit a long-established crossdressing service there when I fancy trying a new look or I have the urge to dress in something different. Little did I realize, however, as I slipped from between my smooth satin sheets that morning, just how different this trip was going to turn out to be.
Decisions About What to Wear When Crossdressing in London
As it turned out, I had made the right decision by allowing myself plenty of time to get ready, because I always struggle to choose the right crossdressing outfit from my rather overstuffed wardrobe. I love to look good and feel feminine, without drawing too much attention to myself, so I never go tarty unless I am in the company of others who are also crossdressing in London or anywhere else.
I took a leisurely breakfast while sitting in my long smooth silky robe, as I don’t like the flat too warm, especially at night. For the same reason, I tend to sleep between my silky satin sheets in a silky camisole and knickers set trimmed with pretty lace and bows. It matches the ivory silk robe I wore while munching my muesli, listening to the radio, and deciding what to wear for my crossdressing in London trip. By the time breakfast was over, my mind was as made up as I ever expected it to be, so I slipped out of my silky nightwear, took a quick warm shower and started my assault on the wardrobe. When I say “I was decided” on what to wear, you have to take into account that I was only at the first phase, which meant I had settled on wearing a nice silk dress, but I still needed to narrow it down to the specifics
Running Late for my Crossdressing in London Trip
After slipping into one of my favourite lingerie sets, consisting of a pure silk bra, French knickers and suspender belt in a shiny sky blue fabric, I slid on a new pair of silky smooth stockings and deftly attached those heavenly pieces of femininity into the suspenders. I felt good already and I revelled in the familiar sensation of the delicate silken nylon caressing my soft smooth skin. The coolness of the material as it made contact with my most intimate parts forcing a satisfied mummer to escape from my shiny red lips.
I always dress slowly, taking time to look myself over in the large mirrored doors of my bedroom wardrobes. I held the knee-length dress against my body, admiring the smooth lines of the garment, before slipping it over my head. It was quite thin, almost transparent, so I slipped out of it once more before sliding back the door to my lingerie closet where I keep some of my most intimate and treasured items. OMG! I was already wondering what it would feel like to be crossdressing in London.
Slipping into silkies for crossdressing in London
I confess that I have a desire for shiny garments, so I wear silky satin slips quite often; in fact, I jump at any excuse to feel those most gorgeous of feminine attire caressing and cocooning my body. Not surprisingly, therefore, a broad smile spread across my face when my immaculately painted fingers alighted on the hem of my sky blue full-length slip trimmed with delicate French lace. I just knew that it would be perfect for my day out crossdressing in London. I removed the hanger and stood in front of the mirrored doors once again to admire the sumptuous silken delight I was holding before slipping it over my head. The lace trimmed creation slid over my body like shimmering liquid, causing the light to reflect off it, catching every fold, while accentuating the outline of my silky suspender belt and delicate bra straps through the gossamer thin fabric.
Crossdressing in London the Finishing Touches
After taking a few more minutes to admire the look of the silky satin slip hugging every curve and hollow, I slipped the smooth satin dress back on, before tidying my hair one more and checking my makeup. A pair of shiny court shoes with a chunky two-inch heel added the finishing touch and I was all set to go, I picked up my matching black patent handbag, took one final look in the mirror and set off for the bus stop which was only a few hundred yards from my apartment.
The Joys of Public Transport
I love the sound of heels on the pavement and I have become quite proficient at walking in them, even at a trot, which is just as well, because the bus taking me crossdressing in London was already coming up the road behind me. Fortunately, there were a few passengers waiting for the bus and by the time they had fiddled with their change and electronic passes, I had joined the rapidly shrinking queue myself, card in hand. My mastery of heels paid dividends once again as the bus lurched forward and I slid into an empty aisle seat next to a middle-aged, smartly-dressed woman
I looked away and smoothed my shiny dress over my nylon clad legs, and felt a familiar and not unpleasant stirring in my body which caused my breathing and pulse to quicken just ever so slightly. I nearly stopped breathing altogether, however, when I realized that she was speaking to me. I must have come over as a real idiot while I spent what felt like minutes, processing first that she had spoken to me, secondly what she was saying and thirdly how to formulate a reply that wouldn’t make me look an even bigger fool.
“You look very nice dear,” she remarked casually as if it was the most normal thing in the world to remark on the attire of total strangers who chose to sit next to you on the bus. My mind was still reeling and I was somewhere between the hell of panic and the heaven of enthrallment. I briefly wondered if she had clocked me and whether she would scupper my crossdressing in London trip altogether, so a part of me was waiting for some sarcastic or scathing comment that might be shared with the rest of the passengers, but it never came. For what seemed like an eternity, I shifted uncomfortably inside my silkies, considering “doing a runner” as a serious option, in what I worried could turn into a fight or flight scenario.
Enjoying the compliment
She must have sensed my unease, however, because her rich creamy voice broke through my inner turmoil as she leaned close to me and almost whispered, “don’t worry you gorgeous creature, your secret is safe with me”. So I had been clocked after all and now I was now feeling more than a little cross with myself for breaking my own cardinal rule of staring at women on public transport. She extended an immaculately manicured hand which I clasped gently in my own and her grin blossomed into a full-blown smile which had the effect of putting me completely at ease about the prospect of a fabulous day crossdressing in London.
A Travelling Companion While Crossdressing in London
“Where are you off to looking so lovely?” she enquired as I settled more comfortably into my seat. When I shared the details of my intended destination, a look of genuine amazement and surprise appeared on her beautiful face, causing the now familiar smile to light it up yet again. “Well, that is one amazing coincidence” she almost gasped. I have some business in the big city too; don’t tell me you are on your way to catch the 10.45 train as well? I confessed that, yes, indeed, I was on my way to do some crossdressing in London, to which she enquired whether I would mind a travelling companion, as she was absolutely dreading making the trip alone, especially on what was likely to be a sparsely occupied train.
“Why not,” I said, wondering when I was actually going to hear my alarm at home and wake up from this amazing dream. It wasn’t a dream, however, and the woman’s voice once again cut through my racing thoughts as she asked: “so what does my pretty travelling companion like to be called?”
“Chloe’” I stammered” adding, “I am on a day out crossdressing in London,” as I proffered my hand into hers again expecting to receive another gentile handshake, which in fact, turned into more of a gentle and prolonged clasping instead.
Catching the Scent
She held onto my hand for what seemed like several minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, causing my head to swim with a thousand racing thoughts as I experienced her warmth and softness. Her musky scent found its way into my nostrils, and whether real or imagined, I sensed the warmth of her body through her smart tailored jacket.
“The name’s Susan”, she almost whispered, “I have a business meeting near Tower Bridge at one o’clock, and was planning on indulging in a light lunch followed by some retail therapy before taking a train back after the rush has died down, how about you?” The way she spoke to me and her soft tone was quite disarming and so it was that I found myself opening up to this fascinating stranger.
“My trip to the city is purely pleasure related,” I said. “I was planning some out of my comfort zone crossdressing in London, have a coffee, do some shopping and maybe a late lunch followed by more of the same.” “
Would you think it forward of me if I offered to buy coffee for us in London?” She asked. I found myself agreeing and she clasped my hand again, squeezing it just a little, while that now familiar smile spread over her elegant face.
Taking Stock of the Risk of Crossdressing in London
A few minutes later we were stood on a virtually deserted station platform waiting for our train to arrive. My heart was thumping in my chest as my mind continued to process the possibilities which the day seemed to be offering. We stood a few feet apart on the sunny platform and I was able to take in Susan’s appearance in more detail, and I liked what I saw, in fact, I liked it a lot.
She stood about five feet eight inches in her modest court shoes and she had one of those faces that didn’t need any makeup but really benefited from it too. She could have been anywhere between her mid-thirties to her early forties and she seemed to ooze presence. I imagined her as a high powered PA or even a company boss and her choice of attire did nothing to dissuade me from that line of thought.
While her navy blue skirt suit and crisp white blouse may have been commonplace office attire throughout most ranks along the corporate ladder, from typists to secretaries, the quality of her clothes suggested a loftier position. I have something of a penchant for smart work clothes myself, and the crisp white work shirts and smart knee-length skirts hanging in my wardrobe attest to it, so I know the difference when I see it.
Her slender legs were clad in smooth silky nylon and I felt my pulse quicken to the next level as I teased myself with the idea that she might even be wearing thigh highs or even (dare I consider it) stockings and suspenders. I sensed that she knew I was giving her the once over and she showed no signs of displeasure, rather, she smiled faintly before asking me if “I liked what I was seeing?” I was about to stammer out some lie about not really looking when the 10.45 rounded the slight bend that had obscured it from our view and squealed to a halt in front of us and at last, it felt as if my crossdressing to London trip was finally underway.
Letting the Train take the Strain
She moved closer to me and we entered the nearest carriage with me leading the way. I sensed her closeness behind me as we moved into the sparsely occupied space. I selected an empty section in the centre of the carriage consisting of two rows of seats separated by a narrow table. Susan slid in opposite me and we both shimmied along until we occupied the seats closest to the window. I adjusted my dress, pulling and smoothing it under me and settled back for the 45-minute journey into London.
The later train proved to be a prudent choice and we found ourselves in the company of only about half a dozen other late morning travellers who were scattered around closer to the ends of the carriage. We rocked in our seats as we started our forward journey and the train began to pick up speed, producing the gentle and expected rhythm that is synonymous with rail travel. I wasn’t sure how to take up the conversation, but I needn’t have worried because Susan saved me the bother and took me a little by surprise at the same time.
“How long have you been looking forward to crossdressing in London,” she asked, leaning towards me over the narrow table while keeping her voice low enough for the noise of the train on the rails to contain her words within our own space. It was liberating and exciting at the same time to talk to such a lovely woman who seemed genuinely interested in my life’s greatest passion and at first, I had trouble forming the words that would explain my journey into cross-dressing. Before too long, though, I was hearing the excitement in my own voice as I related my journey to her and it felt simply amazing to be able to share it with another genuinely interested party.
Crossdressing in London Over Coffee
I can’t fully explain it, but there was something disarming about Susan and I knew that I would tell her anything she wanted to know, if she just asked, and ask she did. By the time we rolled into St Pancras, I had downloaded a brief outline of my story and was hungry to fill in the details over the promised cup of coffee. The sun was warming the tired concrete when we stepped out onto Euston Road and Susan steered me towards the front of the waiting line of shiny black cabs.
She mentioned a certain coffee shop near to Tower Bridge and the driver’s enthusiastic head nodding movements suggested that he was familiar with the location. After navigating four miles of traffic-clogged streets in a little over half an hour, Susan leaned forward and instructed the driver to pull over, informing me that our destination was only a further few minutes away. She insisted on paying the fare and wouldn’t let me give her anything towards it, before linking her arm in mine and leading me along the crowded pavement to the coffee shop.
The venue she had chosen was situated close to the Thames, opposite the St Katharine Docks Marina and it was as much a trendy bar as it was a coffee shop. It also offered a varied and tasty sounding menu of snacks and meals for what was most likely a fairly transient clientele. We settled at a table near one of the huge windows and only had to wait a few minutes for a waiter to arrive and take our order of two large coffees.
After the rather frenetic journey in the cab, I sensed Susan changing down a couple of gears as she reclined into the comfy armchair and visibly take stock of me.
“You do dress well Chloe and I love your style,” she said. I went just a little bashful and told her how much I appreciated her kind comment as it was my first time crossdressing in London, which was when she decided to take things to the next level.
“How do you fancy spending the afternoon shopping with me?” she asked. I could hardly believe what I was hearing and my pulse quickened once more as the possibilities flashed across my mind. I managed to stammer out an affirmative reply and we arranged to meet up back at the same place around two-thirty, following her business meeting, which meant I had just over an hour to kill.
We finished our drinks, stood up in unison and she leant over and planted a soft kiss on my right cheek while sliding her hand around my back, just like a couple of girlfriends parting after catching up over a coffee. She marched off in a purposeful fashion, while I wandered onto the street to further enjoy my crossdressing in London until she returned.
Crossdressing By the River
In the event, I opted for a walk along the sun-kissed waterfront, taking in the views across the river; I headed under the bridge, keeping an eye on the time. The district was populated by more bars, coffee shops and trendy eateries that were all fairly busy servicing a mixture of tourists and business people grabbing a late lunch or a quick meeting over coffee. It seemed like I had only been walking a few minutes, but my watch told me it was closer to half an hour, so I did an about turn and headed back to our agreed rendezvous.
Time for Some Shopping While Crossdressing in London
Susan was already seated at the same table we had occupied earlier and she waved the waiter over to take my order while I was still straightening my dress on the comfy seat. I ordered coffee again and we decided it would make perfect sense to grab a light lunch right there, leaving us with more time to focus on the important matter of crossdresser shopping. After finishing our lunch we left and virtually walked straight into a cab which took us into the heart of London’s bustling shopping district where we spent the rest of the afternoon doing what women love most.
I must have tried on dozens of outfits and Susan was a gem when it came to fashion advice. She caught me a little off guard in the first store we visited, however, by following me into the dressing rooms and insisting on helping me in and out of numerous gorgeous outfits, while encouraging me to parade in front of the mirrors. I didn’t protest, as I was having the time of my life simply crossdressing in London and she also insisted that I return the favour, so I willingly obliged, if with somewhat trembling fingers and a few blushes.
That was when my original suspicions were confirmed and my heart nearly stopped in my chest as she stepped out of her smart business skirt to reveal her fabulous silk lingerie clad body.
I couldn’t help but stare at the fabulous sight that met my eyes. She wore a pretty blue, lace trimmed bra with matching French knickers and a lavish suspender belt with authentic metal fasteners which were attached to the tops of a stunning pair of slinky Dior stockings.
By now I was struggling to keep my appreciation of the view to myself (if you get my drift) but she simply smiled as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Once more, her scent crept into my nostrils and I felt the warmth of her body as I zipped her into a tight-fitting crimson coloured satin sheath dress. Somehow, I managed to control myself and focused on the fabulous clothes which got me through several repeat performances of crossdressing in London stores without embarrassing myself too much.
Home Sweet Home
By the time we tumbled onto the 6.45 train home, clutching an assortment of shopping bags, we were both fully shopped out and totally exhausted. Susan insisted on paying for a taxi outside the station as she couldn’t be doing with the hassle of queuing for and travelling on a bus while loaded with her bounty. I wasn’t ready to complain either as I had indulged myself with no less than four dresses and two sumptuous satin lingerie sets, which was more than enough to carry.
We shared the rear seat of the cab and Susan sat close enough for me to once again feel the warmth of her body and enjoy her exquisite scent. It turned out that she too had an apartment not far from my own and so I jumped at her offer of a coffee and she even insisted that she would drive me home afterwards. She didn’t wear a ring and I gained the impression that, like me, she too lived the solitary life so I felt more than comfortable with her invitation.
Crossdressing at Home with Susan
Susan’s apartment occupied the whole of the first floor of what was once a traditional detached family residence. Her bright red Mazda MX5 convertible was parked on the block paved forecourt which now occupied what used to be the front garden and there were neatly marked out parking bays for another three vehicles. She ushered me through the front door which opened up into a spacious hallway and we ascended the carpeted staircase which terminated at a small landing with a single door.
A large picture style window revealed a view down the tree-lined street and whoever had carried out the work to convert the house into apartments had managed to tastefully retain most of its original features. The décor was a subtle mix of traditional and contemporary styles, making use of neutral colours and modern joinery, including a wooden bannister and a UPVC door into the apartment.
Over the Threshold
Susan opened the deadlock and stepped aside, motioning me to go in ahead of her as she flicked on the lights before pulling the door closed behind us. I don’t know what I had been expecting, but whatever it was, it didn’t come anywhere close to what met my eyes. The word immaculate didn’t really do it justice because the space in the lounge just seemed to flow and all the furnishings and décor complemented to make the spacious room feel just perfect.
It was contemporary, but not ultra-modern, and like the hallway and landing, the owners had managed to retain something of the properties original character. This was evidenced in the ornate ceiling cornices, picture rails and the highly polished wooden floor. However, unlike similar attempts I had come across in the past, these features didn’t look like something old and worn-out that had been simply left in place and given a cursory lick of Paint. In fact, following what must surely have been a painstaking renovation, they had been left looking pristine and new. Several sumptuous rugs protected the floor, which had obviously received the same attention to detail, while two plain fabric sofas lent a cosy atmosphere to the more than adequate space.
Susan Makes Her Move
After placing my bags in a corner of the room I availed myself of her gleaming white bathroom before settling on the sofa nearest the modern style kitchen which neatly split the accommodation by means of a worktop stroke breakfast bar. We chatted aimlessly about stuff I can’t even recall while Susan prepared our coffee before plonking herself down on the sofa next to me.
A combination of her uncannily comfy sofa and her sweet feminine scent was starting to get the better of me as I found myself feeling more and more relaxed in her company. She had slipped her smart suit jacket off and hung it over one of the high-backed stools next to the breakfast bar revealing just how pristine her clothing looked despite having been worn all day.
As I have already pointed out, I have something of a fetish for smart business attire, especially quality women’s work shirts and neat skirts, so I was starting to feel that familiar quickening down in my silky knickers.
“Do you like what you see?” Susan inquired, leaning towards me in a way that sent my pulse racing up to around warp factor eight. Her moist red lips were close to mine and once again I sensed the warmth of her body through her clothes. I could see the outline of a pretty camisole trimmed with delicate lace through the semi-transparent fabric of her blouse and couldn’t help thinking how fabulous she must look when naked.
I realised that I had become so lost in my fantasy world that I hadn’t answered her question, but at that moment, my mouth seemed to be experiencing some difficulty in connecting with my brain. I didn’t flinch when she planted her hungry lips on mine; instead, I virtually sucked her probing tongue deep inside my mouth, welcoming it on its journey of discovery, before boring my own moist digit past her perfectly formed teeth.
I was already breathing heavily before Susan started to run her soft hands all over my body, exploring every inch through the smooth fabric of my dress and undergarments, but her explorations were now drawing even sharper gasps from between our tightly interlocked mouths. My thoughts were racing and my body was responding as nature had programmed it to, making me as pliable as putty to her own mounting torrent of lust.
In what seemed like one smooth choreographed movement, she extricated herself from our embrace, stood on her feet, clasped my hand and literally hoisted me upright, before guiding me towards her bedroom. She pushed me onto the sumptuously bedecked bed and straggled over me. My hands found her ample breasts through the silky layers of lingerie and our lips were once more locked together.
Susan was a woman on a mission and she knew exactly what she wanted. While I busied myself with the concealed button arrangement of her blouse she was literally dragging my dress and slip up my body. I felt the warmth of her hand stroking my most intimate part through the cool silky fabric of my knickers, causing me to make my satisfaction heard in a gentle and sustained mewing sound.
She had already established her dominance in the proceedings and I was more than happy, if not totally enthralled in letting her take that route. Somewhere deep down the tunnel of my euphoria I sensed that she had been storing up her need throughout the day and now it had become urgent. She wasn’t in the mood for delaying her need and her focus was fixed in one particular area, which was already responding in kind.
By now I was totally lost to her and fast approaching what can best be described as some kind of sensory overload which was heightening every aspect of my sight, sound, smell and sensation. The fragrance of her fabric conditioned sheets, her perfume and the intoxicating scent of her moist sex, competed to flood my nostrils.
She broke our embrace to apply her wet lips elsewhere, using her hand to guide the centre of my pleasure into her warm and welcoming cavern. I thought hard to control my own need, sensing that she would want to press on to her ultimate goal and she mercifully released my willing member before I passed the point of no return.
We both remained fully clothed throughout our coupling which only added to my visual and tactile stimulation, causing me to make my mounting pleasure known to her in a most audible way. I felt her pull my silky knickers to one side, hooking the now damp fabric under my throbbing testicles as she positioned her sopping wet sex over the tip of my engorged member.
Her need was far too urgent to facilitate the removal of her own lingerie and I withdrew my attention from her heaving breasts just in time to see her deftly pulling her shiny white panties to one side, while guiding me into her. She bore down onto me in one smooth motion and didn’t stop until she was satisfied that she had engulfed every throbbing inch of me.
Our eyes locked and something that words can’t explain seemed to pass between us as she gently stroked my cheek, while just holding me inside her body and not moving at all. It was as if some knowledge or understanding passed between us without spoken language. It was as if we had connected in a way that went even deeper than the physical expression of our urgent passion. She lowered herself onto me, took my hands in hers and pinning them back over my head, she slowly drew herself upwards along the full length of my throbbing organ.
I was more than happy to let her take control and felt myself sinking into her soft yielding bed and the sweet-smelling pillows where I imagined her pretty head would have rested for countless lonely nights. Despite the urgency I had perceived in her, she moved over me in a controlled and calculated way, while slowly increasing both her speed and pressure. I felt her sex clasping around me each time she fully engulfed the object of her mounting desire and the sweet sounds escaping from her slackening jaw informed me that she was fast arriving at the plateau of her pleasure.
I slid my hands from hers and placed them either side of her trim waist where her smart blouse and pretty camisole had ridden up her torso, exposing her soft delectable flesh above the waistband of her skirt. I started to meet her thrusts with my own while using my hands to increase both the speed and pressure.
We were no longer two people, but a single entity that was moving to fulfil an overpowering need. Our movements were becoming more frenetic and despite our ragged breathing, I found myself being further animated by the peculiar mewing and moaning sounds that were emitting from our lips. We crossed the threshold of ecstasy in perfectly synchronised unison with my hands pulling her down hard against my body.
She collapsed onto me and held on as if I were the only solid matter in a rapidly dissolving universe and we lay like that for several minutes, waiting for our breathing to return to normal. It was in those few minutes that my conscious mind told me I had found something important, a previously missing and vital piece of the often confusing jigsaw puzzle of my life.
I was already in love with Susan, and I realised that I had been from the moment I had laid eyes on her. We didn’t speak, perhaps because we were afraid that the inadequacies of language might mar what we already knew at a level where words had no use. One thing I was sure about however, whatever happened next, my crossdressing in London trip would change the direction of my life in ways that I couldn’t yet imagine.