Author’s Note: I have decided to set this story in my homeland of Australia. It is written in ‘Australian English’ so some of you may have to look up certain words or phrases. Enjoy and don’t forget to rate it and leave a comment should you so desire.

Matraville, New South Wales, Australia – 1986

“I told you that if I ever came home and found you dressed in that shit again I’d throw you out on your arse,” Cristina’s father yelled at her.

‘That shit’ was a denim miniskirt, a pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose, red satin panties and a matching bra, pathetically stuffed with rolled up pantyhose to fill the cups. The ensemble was complete with a pair of cork-soled platform sandals. The shoes were one size too small and Cristina’s toes hung over the front like cliffhangers. Her shoulder-length, sun-bleached hair was centre-parted and brushed into a frizzy do and her makeup was applied heavy and not very well.

This was the third time that Christian Doyle had been caught dressed this way by his father despite Christian’s efforts to keep ‘Crissy’ a secret.

“I just don’t get it! Maybe you just have too much time on your hands… when did all this gap year bullshit start anyway?” William ‘Billy’ Doyle raged and Crissy knew not to answer back; the question was rhetorical.

“When I finished high school you got a fucking job or you went to university. I had left home and was supporting myself at eighteen, not lazing around the house or going to the beach or hanging with my fucking friends doing fuck-all for a year, bludging off your family, like you. I think that’s why you have this obsession with dressing like a fucking nancy! Too much fucking time on your hands to explore your fucking gender identity or whatever bullshit the fern-sniffing, latte-sipping, lefty-wankers are pushing now,” Billy’s tirade continued.

“Well this is it Christian. Get that shit off your face, take off those ridiculous clown clothes and get the fuck out of my house!” Billy’s face was bright red and getting redder.

“Go find yourself a fucking job and support yourself. You can go and suck cocks for a living in Kings Cross for all I care. Just fuck off out of my sight and don’t come back until you have made something of yourself. I’m freezing your Bankcard and you won’t be getting any inheritance from me unless you buck up. I’ll leave everything to the RSL before I leave it to some crossdressed, nancy-boy, poofter! You’ve got half an hour to pack or I’ll just throw you out on the street dressed like that!” Billy pointed to his crossdressed son and then ripped open the fridge door and snatched a can of Victoria Bitter, which he popped open and began to guzzle.

The thought of being thrown out on the street dressed as Crissy was terrifying.

Crissy knew better than to argue with her father and slunk off to her room where she wiped away her makeup, took off her clothes and then went and took a shower. With the clothes and makeup removed Crissy surrendered her psyche to Christian who packed some clothes into a duffle bag. He debated as whether he should ditch Crissy’s collection of feminine requisites and on a whim threw his small collection of feminine attire and his makeup bag into the duffle. He came out of his bedroom to find his father still angry and four cans into what would likely be a full-blown bender.

“Jesus! Look at yourself! Even dressed as a boy you look like a fucking mincer. Here, take this and fuck off. I’ve told my sister in Karumba to expect you but that’s up to you. She owns the caravan park and will be able to get you a job on a trawler and that will make a man out of you but I bet those blokes up there will eat you alive, especially if you pull any of that nancy-boy shit. Come back in a year as a real man with some real money in your pocket and I’ll let you work for me and put you back in my will,” Billy growled, half-drunk and angry.

“Take this and don’t come back until you’ve sorted yourself out or don’t come back at all,” Chris’s father threw two fifty dollar notes on the kitchen table, turned his back on his son and opened the Kelvinator to get another can of VB.

Outside of the house with all his worldly goods stuffed into his duffel bag, Christian realised what it was like to be alone in the world. The few mates he had were at Uni or had jobs and the last thing they wanted was a moocher staying with them. Chris realised that his only option was take up his dad’s proposal and go to Karumba and live with Aunt Greta. The prospect of working on a smelly prawn trawler did not appeal to him but what else was there?

Getting from Matraville, New South Wales to Karumba in far north Queensland with only one hundred dollars in his pocket would be a problem. Chris still had his student rail and bus pass but he could only use that on urban transport. He made his way to the railway station and boarded a train to Sydney then on to Newcastle, which was as far as he could travel on his student pass. He could have bought a bus or rail ticket with the money he had but he was buggered if he was going to waste his money on commercial transport when hitchhiking was free.

Standing on the side of the Pacific Highway with his thumb out Chris wondered what life would be like in an isolated little shithole like Karumba where entertainment revolved around the pub, fishing, the pub, hunting, the pub, trying not to eaten by a crocodile and of course… the pub. And what would he do about Crissy? He had tried keeping his feminine alter ego under wraps but she kept popping out. Chris could just not resist the urge to crossdress. He had been doing so on a regular basis ever since as a young boy he had filched a pair of his mother’s pantyhose and knickers from the laundry basket and tried them on.

Chris had purged a number of times but it was an expensive and futile exercise so he just gave in and presented as Crissy whenever the opportunity arose. His mother was out the picture. She had gone to live in New Zealand with some sheep-shagger after a nasty divorce and it had become even more difficult to hide his feminine requisites and his father had caught him twice before today dressed as Crissy and had belted him hard and threatened to disown him and now here he was hitchhiking to whatever fate lay ahead.

A Mack truck towing a trailer pulled over onto the verge and Chris hoisted his duffel on his shoulders and ran up to the cab, opened the door and climbed in. He saw the look of disappointment on the driver’s face and half-expected the man to kick him out but he just gave a dissatisfied grunt and put the truck in gear.

“Fuck me! I thought you were a Sheila,” the truckdriver grunted.

Chris’s father’s last words rung in his ears: Even dressed as a boy you look like a fucking mincer.

Chris was dressed in cut-off denim short-shorts, a tight pink tank-top and sandals. With his slim build, long tanned legs, shoulder-length frizzy beach-blonde hair he did look like a ‘Sheila’. Chris had, much to his father’s chagrin, adopted an androgenous look when not presenting as Crissy. It was not really a conscious decision but he had been made aware that his fashion choices were questionable on more than one occasion.

Steve Kessler, the truckdriver, thought he had hit the jackpot when he saw the long-legged diminutive little blonde girl hitchhiking on the side of the highway and had been bitterly disappointed when Christian Doyle had hopped in the cab.

“Where you going kid?” Steve asked the effeminate teen sitting beside him in the cab.

“I need to get to Karumba,” Chis replied.

Christ! He even sounds like a girl! Steve lamented.

“Good luck with that kiddo, I can get you to Bris Vegas then you're out on your arse,” he grunted.

Bris Vegas was Aussie slang for Brisbane.

Chis could tell that the truckie was contemplating kicking him out on the side of the road and knew better than to show any disappointment.

“Thanks,” Chris whispered and concentrated on the road ahead.

Steve couldn’t help but scrutinise the diminutive young man sitting in his cab, checking him out surreptitiously. Chris’s face was waiflike, with sparkling blue eyes, a cute button-nose, high cheekbones and a sensuous mouth. His legs were long, shapely and tanned as were his arms and his waist was slim. Steve could be forgiven for thinking that Chris was a girl when he had sighted him standing on the side of the road in the cut-off shorts and pink tank top.

“You really do look like a Sheila you know,” Steve huffed.

“Yes. Ok. You're not the first person to tell me that I look like a girl sometimes,” Chris agreed but it was not a conversation he wanted to have.

“You're not a poofter are you?” Steve asked bluntly.

Another question that Chris had had to answer on several occasions because of the way he looked. The truth was that Chris’s alter ego Crissy had never had sex. Christian had fucked a girl or two. He’d even had a girlfriend but the relationship went down the toilet pretty quickly when she caught him trying on her bra and panties. Crissy had sexual urges but they were non specific. She dreamed of being kissed and caressed by some handsome faceless masculine bloke but that was as far as she allowed her imagination to wander. She knew that there was tranny porn out there if you looked for it but she made do with filching Billy’s porn magazines and video tapes. They were all heterosexual of course but Crissy used them to fuel her masturbatory fantasies, never admitting to herself whether or not she imagined herself to be in the male or female role.

Crissy liked ‘sissy’ things like fashion magazines, boy bands and soap operas whilst Christian like to watch rugby and cricket and going to the beach. Manly things, right? But at the beach hadn’t Crissy sometimes entered Christian’s head and made him look at the bulging pouches in the young men’s Speedos?

“What if I am?” Chris replied sulkily, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Well it’s Brisbane and then you’re out on your arse,” Steve said gruffly.

But during the long haul along the highway Steve kept finding himself side-eying the young faggy-looking boy in the shotgun seat and Chris was intently aware of it and it was uncomfortable. Steve didn’t have a gay bone in his body but he kept thinking about when he had first seen Christian on the side of the road and mistaken him for a girl and the lewd fantasies he had conjured up about getting the ‘passenger seat princess’ into the sleeping compartment in the back of the cab. He shook his head and concentrated on the road.

“I was sure you were a Sheila,” Steve grumbled and then became stonily silent.

Nearly twelve hours later, stopping only once to use the toilet and get snacks, Steve put on the indicator as he approached the slip road that led to a roadside truck stop just outside of Brisbane.

“I’m going to get a feed before I hitch up the rest of my road train at the depot,” Steve said as he entered the slip road.

“Road train? I thought you were only going as far as Brisbane?” Chris came out of his fugue where Crissy had taken control of his dreams and was thinking naughty thoughts about the surfers on Cronulla beach.

“Yeah, well I’m going on to Cairns but you're not coming with me. Anyway I’m not supposed to pick up hitchhikers. It’s against company policy,” Steve countered.

“I bet if I was a Sheila you wouldn’t be kicking me out of the cab,” Chris said sulkily.

“Yeah, well you ain’t a Sheila so this is as far as you go sunshine,” the brakes hissed as the truck rolled to a stop.

The truck stop was quite large with designated fuelling stations and a parking area for heavy commercial vehicles and trucks that was separate to the fuelling stations and parking area for passenger cars and small commuters. A large building housed the restaurant, snack bar, mini-mart and toilets. The truck parking area had its own ablutions block so that truckies could clean up before going into the restaurant.

“You can have a shit and a shower over there but they don’t allow hitchers to tout for rides in the parking lot so you’ll have to drag your arse back out on the highway to hitch a ride,” Steve pointed at the truckers ablutions block and walked away towards the restaurant without even saying goodbye.

Chris eyed the Besser-brick restroom with some trepidation. Someone had scrawled ‘truckers only’ on the wall but Chris was in no mood to eat or shop so he slung his duffle over his shoulder and made his way to the ablutions.

The smell of stale sweat, hot shit, urinal cakes and cheap bath soap invaded his nostrils as soon as he entered the place. He made his way to a toilet stall and took care of business and then made his way to the shower stalls. At least the shower stall was roomy with a small bench, a towel rail and two clothes hooks screwed to the back of the door. Chris sat on the little bench, the wooden slats digging into his buttocks as he rummaged around in his duffel looking for a change of clothes and a towel.

He was travelling light and had packed mainly t-shirts and shorts with one pair of jeans and one work shirt. He would have to buy boots somewhere along the way because he bet everything in Karumba cost twice as much as elsewhere. He pulled out his little toiletry bag and the small towel he had packed and his fingers brushed against the plastic bag at the bottom of the duffel. A faint odour of perfume assailed his nostrils.

Chris was still determined to get to Karumba with as much of the one hundred dollars he had in his pocket as he could. He would have to hitch to Cairns and then find someone who was willing to take him to Karumba. He recalled what Steve Kessler said about it being against company policy for truckers to pick up hitchhikers. The only reason Steve had picked him up was because he thought Chris was a girl.

Crissy’s personality emerged uninvited and planted a thought in Christian’s head.

“Fuck it! What have I got to lose?” Crissy’s effeminate voice giggled.

Christian surrendered his psyche to Crissy and let her take control.

A hairy-arsed trucker taking a dump in one of the four toilet cubicles thought that he heard a girl’s voice coming from the showers but he knew he must be dreaming. He was dog tired and nearly home and looking forward to dragging his buxom-arsed Missus into their swimming pool and rooting her right there in the warm water.

Crissy stripped and took a long shower and shaved the few rogue hairs that sprouted from her mainly whiskerless body. She dried off, bushed her hair and laid out the denim miniskirt, pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose, red satin panties and matching bra on the seat. She dithered about the pantyhose. It was warm and would be getting warmer the further north she got. She knew that her long tanned legs looked good bare but clad in nylons they were stunning.

“Fuck it!” Crissy whispered and sat down to put on her pantyhose, smoothing them out and tucking her genitals under her crotch as best she could.

She hiked up the red satin panties over her pantyhose. She preferred the aesthetic of panties over pantyhose and they helped disguise her male genitalia. She also dithered about the bra. She had no intention of stuffing the cups but the cups were padded a little and would give her some shape under the tight tube-top so she put it on.

Getting her makeup right was tricky using the little compact mirror but she only applied a light dusting of finishing powder to her face, dispensing with the blush and concentrated on getting her eyes and lips right. She laid down a vibrant punchy pink shade of eyeshadow base and then used deep purple eyeshadow to create a beautiful, blown-out crease. She delineated her eyes with black kohl and used a fingertip to smudge her bottom eyelids to get the smoky-eye effect. Lashings of mascara exaggerated her long eyelashes and with her eyes done she took out her ‘bold berry’ lipstick and painted her lips, overlining them so that her lips effected a plump pout.

Happy with the result she stepped into her denim skirt and pulled on her tube-top. She slipped her feet into cork-soled platform sandals and stood up to straighten her skirt and smooth out her top. She put on her cheap costume jewellery: a choker, bangles and drop earrings and sprayed herself liberally with cheap perfume.

It was the best Crissy could do in the confines of the shower cubicle listening to a parade of truckers come and go, using the facility and adding to the stench that pervaded the ablutions block. She wondered what might happen if one of them was to rip open the door to her shower cubicle and discover her. Her thoughts alternated between being ‘poofter-bashed’ or being forced to offer sexual services. The latter idea had some appeal in a ‘fantasy that would never come true’ kinda way. She packed her duffel and steeled herself, waiting until she was sure that the ablutions block was empty before she came out of the cubicle.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the flyspecked and soap-stained mirror over the sinks as she walked briskly out of the ablutions block.

She looked like a whore.

Crissy strode boldly over to the cab of Steve Kessler’s truck, looking neither right nor left. She anxiously smoked a cigarette in the shadows of the semitrailer waiting for Steve to return and when she saw him approaching she gave a sigh of relief.

Steve was busy picking his teeth with a toothpick and thinking about getting to the truck depot so he could hitch up the remaining trailers of his road train and get fuelled up and then get some sleep in the back of his truck before he hit the road again. He looked at his watch and mentally calculated the distance between Brisbane and Cairns. Sticking to the speed limit, even with a layover in Mackay, he’d get there within the deadline.

As he stepped into the shadows of the closely parked rigs he looked up and saw Crissy standing next to his cab. He was confused for a couple of seconds then he realised who she was.

“Going my way honey?” Crissy smiled cheekily at him.

“Jesus! Get in the fuckin’ truck!” Steve took only a millisecond to make up his mind.

Crissy struggled to climb in the cab and Steve put his hands on her arse and shoved. One of his hands slid under her skirt when he pushed her and he liked the sensation of her satin panties against his fingertips and his cock began to uncoil in his underpants. Crissy went A-over-T-bracket into the truck, legs and arse akimbo, without a hint of decorum. Steve tossed her duffel in after her.

“Get in the back! Get in the sleeper before anyone sees you!” Steve hissed, pushing Crissy between the seats and into the sleeping compartment, grabbing another feel of her arse.

Steve climbed in the cab, slamming the door behind him then continued on into the sleeping compartment where Crissy lay with her skirt hiked up and an inviting smile on her face.

It’s not gay if you don’t kiss her, right? Steve thought to himself as he clambered into the sleeper and lay on top of Crissy.

He kissed her.

He had no regrets about it either. She smelled of something flowery and her breath tasted like bubblegum, and she was pretty, and her body was tiny but her legs were long and they were clad in shimmery silky pantyhose which rubbed against his sides when his work shirt came free of his shorts. The lustrous nylon felt very sensuous against his thick body.

Crissy had never done anything like this before, although she had fantasised about it often enough. The real life experience was better than any fantasy Crissy had ever imagined, she thought to herself as Steve climbed on top of her, his weight pushing her down into the mattress. His lips were firm and his tongue invaded in her mouth. His stubble grazed her smooth soft cheek, his mouth tasted of hamburger and onions and coffee, he was sweaty and exuded a manly musk. He was ruggedly handsome, unkempt and muscled and he had a hard beer-belly. The beer-belly didn’t disgust her, nor did the feel of Steve’s cock pressing into her belly. In fact Crissy had never felt so feminine in her life. The juxtaposition of his manly ruggedness accentuated her femininity. These thoughts rushed through her brain as the brawny trucker lay on top of her.

Steve kissed her and pawed at her. His tongue flittered inside her lips as he sucked on her mouth, his hands stroked her legs and she relished the feel of his rough fingers on her slinky pantyhose-clad thighs. He scrunched her buttocks, pressing his cock against her through his shorts, gasping and groaning as he rutted against the diminutive pretty little crossdresser whom Steve did not think of in any way a boy.

Crissy was able to snake her hands between their bodies, her fingers struggling with the belt buckle on Steve’s work shorts, his gut hanging over his belt didn’t help but she fumbled away and managed to get it unbuckled and then she unzipped his fly. Steve broke the kiss long enough to shuck out of his shorts and underpants but he left everything else on. He wanted sex and he wanted it now!

For the first time in her life Crissy took another man’s penis in her hand and immediately felt empowered. This man’s penis was as hard as a rock. It trembled with a life of its own and a filament of precum leaked from the eye. She had caused him to be this way. He wanted her; he wanted Crissy! She knew that Steve did not identify Christian with Crissy. Crissy was a another person entirely.

She returned his kisses and rubbed her legs against him and stroked his cock until it was fully engorged. She sensed Steve’s impatience and she could understand why. The truck was parked in a crowded lot surrounded by other trucks and although the doors were locked there was still the possibility that other truckies could hear what they were doing in the back of the cab. Crissy thought that made what they were doing a little more exciting but Steve seemed anxious despite his ardour.

He rolled over so that Crissy was now on top of him and pushed against her shoulders. It didn’t take a Rhodes scholar to figure out what he wanted and Crissy dutifully turned herself around, which was quite the gymnastic feat given the confines of the cramped sleeper.

There it was. Inches from her face. A hard phallus, straining, leaking precum, almost angry looking. She dithered a little. She was about to cross the Rubicon as her history teacher would say. If she did what Steve desperately wanted, and deep inside her subconscious so did she, there was no turning back. Then she felt Steve’s hands caressing her thighs. She was glad that she had decided to wear the pantyhose because Steve obviously enjoyed the feel of them and his hands caressing her silky nylons sent little sparklets of pleasure along her body.

Crissy lowered her mouth to the throbbing organ, ignoring the musky, sweaty funk that wafted from Steve’s crotch. Her lipsticked lips enfolded the pink glans and she tentatively lapped at the tip of the organ and tasted the sweet nectar of his pre-ejaculate. She lost all trepidation and took Steve’s phallus into her mouth and began to suck it.

Steve had to admit that he was having second thoughts about what he was doing. The ‘girl’ in the sleeper wasn’t really a ‘girl’ right? But when Crissy presented her rounded buttocks clad in those shiny red satin panties only inches from his face with those long shapely legs sheathed in the translucent nylon and lycra either side of his head, her little skirt framing the visage and then when she took his engorged cock in her mouth, any foreboding Steve had, suddenly disappeared. Her perfume displaced the sleep-funk in his cabin, her trim body pressed gently against his, her legs and bottom were all he could see of her but her feminine presence was overpowering

He lay back and groaned with delight, softly stroking her thighs to intensify the experience. It’s not gay if you don’t touch her cock, right? Steve had re-evaluated his moral stance. When Crissy took his whole penis in her mouth and began to move her lips up and down, her tongue lashing his fraenulum, his moral compass began to spin uncontrollably. He felt his pelvic muscles begin to tense up and his scrotum pull closer to his groin and his cock begin to shudder.

Crissy sensed Steve’s oncoming climax and she sucked harder on his quivering manhood, lashing at his glans with her tongue while her lips moved steadily up and down the shaft. She gently cupped his scrotal sac and caressed it. She felt Steve entwine his fingers in her hair and his lower body rose up off the mattress forcing all of his manhood into her mouth. Steve’s hands relocated to Crissy’s buttocks and he squeezed them to encourage her.

Steve was unable to suppress the mighty groan that issued from his mouth as he released his essences into Crissy’s sweet mouth.

The pulsing jets of scalding musky semen caught Crissy a little by surprise but rather than being repulsed by the sensation of the jittering penis filling her mouth with semen, she was delighted. She suckled Steve’s cock until she had drained every skerrick of his juices, swallowing the sweet-salty issue and savouring it. Her cock was tenting her panties and she would have loved Steve to touch it but she knew that was never going to happen so she just delighted in the sexy, feminine feelings that overwhelmed her.

As soon as he came, Steve began to feel pangs of regret. What the fuck was doing with this teenage crossdresser in his truck? One: it was a good way to get fired. Two: he wasn’t gay and he had never done anything like this, even though he had been tempted one night after watching a Les Girls drag show in Kings Cross at a work function. Three: if his fellow truckers found out what he had just done they would label him a poofter.

His first instinct was to throw Crissy out of the cab but what if someone saw or what if she talked? Maybe he could drop her at another truck stop or on the side of the road? Then the reptilian part of his brain chimed in: ‘What if I to take her to Cairns and get some regular head on the way?’.

Crissy sat cross-legged on the mattress putting on fresh lipstick, using the little compact mirror. He looked at her and the little head in his cock spoke to the big head on his shoulders: ‘She’s pretty, she’s sexy, she’s young and she’s desperate’.

“Ok here’s the deal. I’ll take you to Cairns but you only ride up front when we are on the road. Whenever we stop you hide in the sleeper and keep fucking quiet. I never want to see that faggy young bloke again just you, like you are now. Finally, you give me sex whenever I want it,” Steve said gruffly, already doubting his decision.

“Agreed. I’m Crissy, pleased to meet you,” Crissy smiled at him and held out her hand.

Steve shook her hand and as soon as he touched her he wanted to kiss her again and have more sex but the clock was ticking.

“I’m going to the depot to refuel and load up my road train. You stay back here and keep your mouth shut. Nobody should come to the cab except me but if they do, pull a sheet over yourself and hide. I’ll make up some bullshit story about picking up a backpacker sheila. Lots of drivers do it, although they shouldn’t,” while he was speaking Steve adjusted his underpants and work shorts.

“Any questions?” Steve barked.

“Just one... are you going to shower at the depot honey, you stink,” Crissy grinned at him salaciously and when she saw the storm clouds cross his face she leaned in and kissed him, using a little tongue to tease him.

“Jesus fuck! What have I got myself into?” Steve pulled the curtain aside and climbed into the driver’s seat and Crissy dutifully pulled the curtain closed and settled in for the ride.

Crissy stayed in the sleeper while Steve drove to the depot, refuelled and hitched two more trailers to his rig. There was lots of noise. The clattering and banging of trailers being hitched together to make up the ‘B-triple’ interspersed with the swearing and cursing of rough men joking and bantering as they worked. Crissy couldn’t help but ponder what would happen if the men discovered her in the sleeper and as her imagination ran wild with lewd thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened by the road noise as Steve’s rig skirted the suburbs of Brisbane and settled onto the A1 heading north. Crissy scampered out of the cab and settled into the passenger seat and was delighted to find that Steve had showered, shaved and changed into clean King Gee khaki shorts and work-shirt. They chatted for a while and Crissy told Steve why she was heading up to Karumba, carefully omitting any reference to ‘Christian’, only referring to herself as Cristina to maintain the illusion and abide by Steve’s wishes not make any reference to the ‘faggy young bloke’ who had climbed into the truck.

Crissy really enjoyed being able to express her femininity in the company of another person and did not object one little bit when Steve began to fondle her legs. She could see by the bulge in his shorts that he was horny again and if she could read Steve’s mind she would see that he was considering getting Crissy to blow him while he kept driving along on the Bruce Highway but commonsense prevailed and Steve pulled into a layby about an hour out of Brisbane and bundled Crissy into the sleeper so that she could blow him again.

“Well that was short but sweet,” Crissy teased once they were back on the road as she tried her best to reapply her lipstick while the truck bounced along the highway.

“Look, you are a sweet sexy girl and I’d like to spend a little more time with you in the sleeper but I have to keep my schedule. I’ve got a mandated rest stop in Mackay so we can really get into it, Crissy,” Steve looked at her knowingly and Crissy’s mind raced, wondering what he meant by ‘really get into it’.

Crissy knew better than to talk about her life as Christian. Steve was besotted with the ‘girl’ named Crissy and she didn’t want to break the bond they were forming. It wasn’t really a ‘relationship’ but it was more than sex… or so she thought, anyway. She asked Steve if he had a wife or girlfriend, careful that she might be treading on dangerous ground but Steve opened up to her.

“There’s this joke that truckers often tell in the pub: ‘Why is the bride smiling when she walks down the aisle? Because she knows that she has given her last blowjob.’ Well that was Sandy, my wife,” Steve sighed.

“She was working in the office at the freight yard in Sydney when I met her. Sweet girl, always dressed nice. You know, secretary stuff… skirts, nylons, heels, makeup. After we got married it was if she gave up on herself. Once a week and on ‘special occasions’ she would ruck up her flannel nightgown, pulled down her cotton granny-panties and lie still while I rutted away at her frigid body,” Steve sighed longer this time.

“I took jobs that kept me away from her longer and started rooting the prossies who worked the truck stops because sex with Sandy was so boring and almost non-existent,” Steve explained.

“When I had bought her a pink satin teddy, camiknickers and black holdup stockings as an anniversary gift she had laughed at me and told me to grow up. Anyway turns out she hadn’t given up on herself… she had given up on me. She was having an affair with the boss and I have to say I was glad when she finally left,” Steve gave a wry smile.

“So now I’m footloose and fancy free and I fancy taking you into the sleeper for another go at you before we get to Mackay,” Steve grinned at her and reached out and stroked her leg.

Crissy put her hand over his and encouraged him to fondle her thigh.

Outside of Gladstone Steve pulled over and hauled Crissy into the sleeper once more for another quick blowjob. He could hardly keep his hands off her while he drove and his sexual appetite was ravenous. Crissy was becoming an accomplished fellatrix in a very short time and discovered that she had an affinity for sucking cock. She became aroused as soon as she took Steve’s phallus into her mouth and would have loved to be able to masturbate while she sucked him off but she was acutely aware that Steve didn’t want the illusion shattered that Crissy was anything other than a pretty young girl so she refrained form doing so but she by the time they pulled over just outside of Mackay she was very sexually frustrated.

Crissy needed to shower and use the ablutions and there was no way that she could do so at the truck depot in Mackay where Steve needed to unload one trailer and hitch up another and then refuel. Steve explained that he couldn’t drive his road train into the city so he would drop her off at a bus stop on the highway and pick her up at the same spot in three hours.

“Here, get yourself something to eat and drink and buy yourself something pretty. I’ll see you soon,” Steve handed Crissy twenty dollars and leaned over and kissed her.

Crissy grabbed her duffel and was about to jump out of the truck when Steve reached out and gripped her upper arm.

“You are coming back aren’t you Crissy?” Steve asked.

“Of course I am honey; why wouldn’t I?” Crissy kissed him long and hard before leaping out of the truck.

Crissy was lucky and a city bound bus pulled up not long after and she handed the driver the correct fare and took a seat, suddenly aware that this was the first time she had been out and about in the world as Crissy. She was acutely aware that she was being stared at and soon begun to realise that it was not because she had been clocked but it was because of the way she was dressed. A girl dressed in a denim miniskirt, pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose and cork-soled platform sandals was of course going to attract attention in this North Queensland provincial sugar town populated mostly by country folk.

She felt more at home in the city centre which had a sleepy country feel to it rather than the metropolitan feel of Sydney or Brisbane. The Mackay Regional Council public toilets offered free hot and cold showers and Crissy took advantage of them, her first time ever using ladies facilities. After she showered she put on the same clothes as they were the only feminine attire she had packed other than a change of underwear.

Crissy strolled the streets looking for somewhere to eat when she came across a small clothing store that looked like it had seen better days. Lane’s Clothing Emporium was a throwback to better days when country folk could find everything they needed at a store that was locally owned and operated. It was a sad shadow of its former self, big signs in the large frontage windows stating Closing Down Sale – Everything Must Go summed up the state of affairs.

Inside the store, long counters, now unattended, stretched from the front all the way to the back. The lighting was poor and dust motes floated under the few overhead lights that were still operating. Crissy found the place somewhat eerie but also fascinating. Most of the displays were bare as were most of the mannequins and the remaining stock had seen better days. Crissy walked down an aisle to the ‘ladies requisites’ section. The few mannequins that were dressed were wearing outdated fashions. It seemed that anything modern or popular had been sold.

A lady appeared as if out of nowhere. She was of indeterminable age but dressed very nicely in somewhat dated finery: a tailored navy blue suit entailing a pencil skirt and fitted jacket, seamed fleshtone stockings and black stilettos. Her greying hair was worn in a coiffed shoulder-length bob and her makeup was very vintage, defined by polished glamour, emphasising her flawless complexion with defined brows, bold lips, and expertly winged eyeliner.

“Hello dear, I’m Beverley Lane, proprietor of this once thriving but now neglected establishment. I’m afraid that anything that might be of interest to someone like you has long been sold. You might be better off at Big W or Kmart. They put me out of business you know,” the woman’s voice was huskily alluring, like she might have smoked quite heavily.

“Sorry to hear about it. I'm Christina or Crissy for short,” Crissy moved closer and guessed that the woman was in her sixties, although still very attractive with an hourglass figure accentuated by her suit.

“Oh! Come closer to dear, let me take a good look at you,” the woman smiled invitingly and although Crissy suspected that she had been clocked she approached the woman.

Beverley inspected Crissy closely before speaking again.

“Back in the fifties and sixties Albert Tanner used to own the Pioneer River Lodge. He would come my Emporium after hours and I’d help him select suitable ladies attire. He was like you, you see. It was rumoured that he liked to dress up as a lady named Elspeth and entertain gentlemen who had a penchant for that kind of thing,” Beverley paused to remove a gold cigarette case and matching lighter from her clutch.

“I’m not saying that you like to entertain gentlemen, I’m saying that I assisted Albert in finding garments that fitted him and helped him with deportment, style and makeup. I even fitted him with a couple of wigs. Albert, or should I say Elspeth, looked quite fetching when she was dressed accordingly,” Beverley extracted a cigarette from the case and lit it with the lighter.

Crissy was a little taken aback that Beverley had recognised who she was but Beverley was so good natured about it that Crissy didn’t feel to uncomfortable. Besides, they were the only ones in the shop.

“Albert has long gone but if you are interested, I have some pieces that I put aside for Elspeth that might interest you,” Beverley blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling.

Crissy was so surprised by these unexpected turn of events that she simply nodded and followed Beverley to one of the counters.

“Let me show you what I have left,” Beverley opened a large drawer and began to rummage through it.

She produced a red satin negligée with spaghetti shoulder straps, a black garterbelt, four pairs of panties in nylon, silk and satin in pink, white, black and red, and numerous packages of hosiery. She laid them put them in a wire shopping basket and took Crissy by the hand. Next they visited the cosmetics counter which appeared to be empty but Beverley found what she was looking for in a cupboard underneath the counter.

“Now come with me, I have something special which I think might fit you,” Crissy allowed herself to be led to a stockroom at the very back of the store.

In one corner a mannequin was dressed in a skirt and blouse. The basic black pencil skirt was very retro with a sexy, curve-hugging silhouette, a high waist and a provocative, 10" back slit. The satin blouse was mauve and buttoned down the front.

“As you can see Elspeth was very petite but she had long legs just like you. Would you like to try it on?” Beverley smiled at Crissy and it appeared the sad lady whose business was going under was taking some pleasure helping Crissy.

“Sure,” Crissy was a little uncertain but what the hell; she had a couple of hours to kill.

“I haven’t done this for so long, it’s quite exciting. Now put your duffle bag on the floor and strip for me dear and stand here in front of this vanity,” the antique vanity looked older than Beverley Lane but was beautifully made with a big mirror mounted above the benchtop.

“You want me to strip?” Crissy was ready to draw the line.

“Looking at you I see a lovely young girl who is quite new to being one. I would like to show you your full potential. Let’s just pretend I’m a family friend helping a teenage girl dress for her first time going out on the town,” Beverley gushed.

Crissy thought about it only for few seconds and began to undress, taking off her cork-soled platform sandals. Beverley snatched them from her hands.

“These are at least one size too small. Let me see if I can find something that fits and will go with the outfit,” Beverley disappeared amongst disarray of boxes and cartons scattered around the stockroom some which appeared to be as old as Beverley herself but still unopened.

Crissy took off her denim skirt, tube top and brassiere but left on her panties and pantyhose for modesty and took a seat at the vanity. Beverley returned carrying two cardboard shoeboxes which she placed on the benchtop next to the wire basket. She removed some items from the basket and placed it on the ground.

“Why haven’t you undressed properly dear? Don’t think for a minute I’m going to let you wear those awful cheap pantyhose with that beautiful skirt. Don’t worry, Albert Tanner was a little reticent at first but once I began to help Elspeth show her full potential, she soon became comfortable,” Beverley fussed with the items she had taken out of the basket.

Crissy stood up and rolled down her pantyhose. They bunched with her panties around her feet and then she kicked them off.

“Perfect, now stand still for me please. Have you ever worn one of these? Let’s just say the question is rhetorical and I’ll show you how,” Beverley held out the black satin and lace garter belt and jiggled it.

The garter straps waggled as she did so, the silver clasps and adjusters seemed to sparkle like gems under the dull overhead lighting. Beverley took the seat in front of the vanity and swivelled it so that she was facing Crissy. Crissy was aware that Beverley’s face was inches from her crotch and her penis seemed to shrivel, which she thought was better than the alternative.

“Now pay attention,” Beverley said in an authoritative tone that implied that she was used to telling people what to do.

Beverley was all business as she positioned the high-waisted garter belt around Crissy’s waist then she adjusted the garters, untangling them and adjusting them to maximum length. Beverley explained that the garters should reach down to where the tops of her stockings will sit and to make sure the straps are even on both sides.

“Ok sweetheart lets change places and you can put on your stockings,” Beverley got up and unwrapped a package of dark-tan, fully-fashioned nylon stockings, the cellophane so old that it crumbled as she did so.

Crissy sat down and extended a leg as she was told to do and watched fascinated as Beverley held one of the stockings by the welt and carefully bunched it up so that Crissy could slip her toe in without contacting with the rest of the stocking. Beverley eased the stocking over Crissy’s heel and pulled it up to her ankle, ensuring the seam was in the correct position. Then she pulled the stocking up to full length and checked the seam for straightness. Next she opened the clip on one the garter and slid the top edge of the stocking between the clip’s rubber and metal parts, firmly closing it, ensuring both the stocking and the small rubber nub were gripping the gauzy welt to prevent slipping.

“You do the other three garters; two at front and two at the back, evenly spaced,” Beverley helped Crissy attach the clasps to the stocking correctly, explaining that the dark stocking top is correctly called the ‘welt’ and the slightly lighter band under that the ‘shadow welt’.

“There. Not too bad for your first effort now stand up and we will adjust the garters so that they hold your stockings in place at the correct height. No girl should ever wear baggy nylons,” Beverley said reproachfully.

“Way back in 1951 I heard Jan Sterling in one for movies say ‘I don't go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons.’ Which I thought both funny and true. Being raised a good catholic girl, I did go to church however,” Beverley laughed at the anecdote whilst helping put on the other stocking.

“Ok, lets switch places,” Crissy stood up and faced Beverley who sat in the chair.

Beverley fiddled with the silver adjusters, smoothing out any wrinkles and shortening the garters to that the welts sat high on her thigh. Once again Crissy was very aware that Beverley’s face was inches from her privates; she could feel Beverley’s breath on her thighs and crotch. The feel of Beverley’s fingers flittering on her leg through the diaphanous nylon was very arousing and despite her best efforts Crissy could feel her cock distending. Beverley seemed not to notice.

“The stockings should feel secure, and the garter belt should sit comfortably without shifting. Make sure you keep the seams straight, you can put your foot on my seat if that helps,” Beverley placed Crissy’s foot on the edge of the chair, between her legs.

Crissy did as she was told and after fiddling with the garter adjusters and smoothing the stockings along her legs she was happy with the result. The stockings felt so much more sexy than the cheap pantyhose she wore but tinkering with the garters to properly adjust the stockings and straightening the seams required her full attention and thankfully her penis became flaccid once again.

“Okay, now step into these,” Beverley held out a pair of pristine white full-cut nylon panties with lace trim on the waistband and legholes.

Crissy stepped into them and Beverley slowly slid the garment up Crissy’s legs. Crissy gasped as the nylon panties grazed along her diaphanously clad legs. The sensation was exquisite. She adored the feeling of her panties being pulled up over her pantyhose but it was no match for the wonderous delight of this matronly undergarment swishing on the vintage nylon stockings. Her cock began to become tumescent again. It wasn't just the exquisite feel of the silky stockings on her legs and the cool, sleek nylon panties on her genitals. Mrs Lane was quite a good looking woman for her age and with her heavy makeup, tight skirt-suit, heels and hose, she was the kind of woman that Crissy would like to look like if she had the skills. She was also the type of woman she was attracted to sexually.

As Beverley shimmied the slinky undergarment up Crissy’s legs she heard her sigh. She pulled the knickers up tight around Crissy’s crotch and buttocks and smoothed them out. She was hunched down concentrating on ensuring that Crissy’s seams were straight and that her panties did not become entangled in the garter snaps as she pulled them up Crissy’s legs. She was unaware that her own legs, clad in gossamer hose, were opened slightly and her skirt had ridden up and the Vee of her vintage rayon knickers was in full view. Crissy could smell Beverley’s perfume and her attractive face was looking up at her quizzically.

“What’s wrong dear?” Beverley asked looking at the anguished look on Crissy’s face.

Then she realised that Crissy was staring at her stocking-clad thighs and that her legs were open and her knickers were on display, the tight gusset moulded to the shape of her vulva.

“Oh dear. Elspeth sometimes had the same reaction when I helped her dress,” Beverley tutted as if it was nothing of great concern.

Crissy's erection was tenting her panties.

"We will have to do something about that before we put you in a skirt," Beverley said matter-of-factly.

Beverley dropped to her knees in front of Crissy and pulled down the front of her panties.

“We can’t have any of your juices staining your brand-new stockings and panties can we?” Beverley snatched up the discarded balled-up pantyhose and panties and shook the pantyhose free.

Beverley dabbed at the droplets of pre-ejaculate forming at eye of Crissy’s erect penis with the leg of the pantyhose and Crissy shuddered at the intense sensation that rippled along the shaft of her penis.

"Ok, let's deal with this, shall we?" Beverley said bluntly as if it was everyday occurrence.

Beverley rolled one leg of the pantyhose over Crissy's long appendage.

"The stocking will catch your mess," Beverley said as she smoothed the pantyhose leg out so that it was tightly swathed around Crissy’s cock.

She began to slide her fingers up and down Crissy’s phallus and Crissy became weak at the knees. A gentle tingling began to bloom in her groin as she looked down and at Beverley’s attractive face. Beverley’s perfectly manicured red fingernails wrapped around Crissy’s throbbing cock, stroking it sensuously, the diaphanous nylon eliciting a tingling in her penis that spread through her groin and centred in her lower belly.

The feel of the nylon pantyhose being rubbed against her his shaft and sensitive glans soon brought Crissy to a shattering climax. The initial eruption of scalding semen spewed from Crissy’s cock and burst through the nylon and spattered on the dusty floor and the remainer of her issue expelled itself into a glutinous puddle that stuck to the pantyhose.

"There; that's done," Beverley said, seemingly proud of accomplishing a onerous but essential task.

She carefully unrolled the leg of the pantyhose off Crissy’s cock and dabbed at the droplets of semen still dribbling from the eye.

"These pantyhose will have to go into the bin but I’ll replace them with better quality items," Beverley commented and got to her feet.

Crissy just stood there dumbfounded, her flaccid penis hanging over the waistband of her panties until Beverley tucked it away.

“I see you know how to tuck dear so could you do that for me now and we can proceed,” Beverley picked up a padded brassiere off the dresser while Crissy pushed her testes into her inguinal canals and pushed her empty scrotum and flaccid penis between her legs..

The brassiere was the same colour as Crissy’s new panties and trimmed with the same lace. The cups were padded slightly and Beverley helped Crissy put on the brassiere and adjusted the shoulder straps so that it fit perfectly.

“What you just did. You said you sometimes did it for Elspeth?” Crissy was still flabbergasted at what had just happened.

“Look, as girl I went to Saint Patrick’s college and the nuns were very strict. We were expected to keep our virginity until marriage and the nun’s threatened to check us but never did,” Beverley explained.

“By the time I was eighteen I was pretty rebellious and a lot of us had boyfriends who we would sneak out to see. Of course those young men wanted what young men wanted and some girls, me included, would offer hand relief. Some us even took it up the wrong ‘un,” Beverley giggled like she was still that schoolgirl so many years ago.

“The wrong ‘un?” Crissy looked bemused.

“Oh come on… anal sex… surely?” Beverley didn’t need to finish the sentence when she saw Crissy blush.

“Well we did what we did to hold onto our boyfriends and Mister Lane had the pleasure of deflowering me on my wedding night,” Beverley was once again all business.

“Now lets get you into that skirt and blouse and then do something about your hair and makeup,” Beverley began to undress the mannequin.

The black pencil skirt fitted Crissy admirably as did the blouse and Beverley sat Crissy down at the vanity, put a hairdresser’s cape around her to protect her clothing while Beverley plucked her eyebrows, styled her hair as best she could and showed Crissy how to apply the cosmetics to get the same effect as Beverley’s.

“That’s the best I can do in the time we have left, now lets try on the heels,” Beverley took a pair of black, patent-leather, four inch stilettos from one of the shoe boxes.

They were too big but the second pair fitted perfectly. Beverley led Crissy to one of the dressing rooms so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror. Crissy was stunned at what she saw. A very pretty, sophisticated young lady dressed in retro fashion stared back at her. Crissy felt like a real woman for the very first time as she stared at the shapely young woman dressed in the retro black pencil skirt with the high waist and provocative 10" back slit that accentuated her sexy, curve-hugging silhouette. The mauve satin blouse with the buttoned down front complemented the skirt. Her legs looked amazing in the fully-fashioned stockings and high heels.

“I don’t know how to thank you Beverley,” Crissy began to tear-up.

“Don’t you cry and ruin that makeup. You will have to underdress and change back into the clothes that you came in with. I’ll put everything else in a shopping bag,” Beverley led Crissy back to where the adventure had begun.

“How much do I owe you for all the this stuff?” Crissy asked as she underdressed and changed back into her denim skirt, tube top and sandals.

“Nothing dear. I’m closing the store for the last time tomorrow and you are welcome to have everything gratis. You brought back some fond memories for me and that’s good enough, now hurry up or you will miss your train,” Beverley had naturally assumed that Crissy was travelling by train and Crissy of no intention of correcting her.

There was no way that she was going to admit that she was hitching her way to Cairns, paying her way by blowing the trucker. Beverley packed everything into a very large shopping bag with the Lane’s Clothing Emporium logo on the side. As they walked past the small health and beauty section of the store Beverley stopped briefly and searched for something.

“Let me just pop these in for you dear. If you ever do get around to exploring your new-found femininity further, you are going to need them,” Beverley dropped two small rectangular cardboard boxes into shopping bag, kissed Crissy on the cheek and led her to the door.

She waved Crissy goodbye and closed the door and turned the sign in the window from open to closed.

Crissy stood on the pavement in the cool winter sunshine and wondered if she had dreamed the whole thing. The shopping bag in her hand gave testament that she hadn’t. She made her way to the bus stop carrying her duffle in one hand and the oversize shopping bag in the other and caught the bus back to the highway bus stop. Steve’s rig was pulled up on the other side of the Bruce Highway, the hazard lights flashing and Crissy skipped across the road to find that Steve had opened the passenger door for her.

“I thought you might not be coming back,” Steve said as he took her duffle and Shopping bag from her so she could scramble into the cab.

Crissy leaned over and gave Steve a long passionate kiss.

“Of course I was coming back, I just got waylaid by a lovely lady at a shop in town,” Crissy didn’t dawdle she climbed into the sleeper and pulled the curtain halfway closed.

“Your hair and makeup looks different. Did you get a makeover or something?” Steve asked pointing to the sleeper, not expecting an answer.

Steve had to drive past the depot and this part of the highway was a choke point for trucks heading north and south and Crissy understood that Steve couldn’t be seen with a hitchhiker in his cab.

“I have a mandatory rest stop but I usually just sleep in the sleeper to save money but there’s a pub with a cheap little motel behind it just off the highway about five clicks down the road where I can park my rig. Like I said, I’d like to have some time with you outside the confines of the truck so what would you say to a night in a comfortable bed? I’ll shout us some takeaway and I’ll get us some booze from the pub,” Steve called out over the roar of the engine as he worked the gears to get the road train rolling.

Crissy replied that it would be wonderful and as much as she wanted to explore the contents of the shopping bag, she lay back on the funky bedding and started to doze. She hadn’t slept properly since leaving Sydney. Crissy was awakened by the silence. She had grown accustomed to the constant drone of the diesel engine and the growl of big tyres on bitumen She pulled back the curtain and peeped out.

The road train was parked in a dusty hardpacked clay clearing surrounded by old gum trees. A cinderblock single-story rectangular building was visible through the trees. The building looked exactly what it was: a cheap roadside motel, the rooms delineated by faded blue doors, rectangular windows shaded by cheap ratty curtains and outside of each room was a small metal circular table with two metal chairs. There were overloaded station wagons parked outside three of the rooms, the potholed carpark littered with weathered cigarette butts. A faded sign hanging from a wire-grid fence announced: Pool Closed Until Further Notice.

Steve opened the door to the cab and poked his head in. He was dangling a room key.

“Grab your stuff. I got us the room at the end of the block, closest to the truck parking area,” Steve looked pleased with himself.

Steve grabbed an overnight bag and Crissy grabbed her duffle and the oversize shopping bag and gingerly climbed out of the cab. Steve copped a fleeting glace of her red satin panties as she clambered out of the rig, disappointed that she was now barelegged but mostly be swivelled his head to and fro searching for anyone looking their way. There were three other trucks parked nearby, none of them in the same livery as his trucking company, but the trucking fraternity liked to gossip over their CB radios so he was being cautious.

He ushered Crissy along the dusty path to the room at the very end of the cinderblock building and bustled her inside.

“I need you to stay in the room Crissy, you understand why right?” Steve was already undressing and Crissy hoped he wasn’t intent on sex; she was barely awake.

“I’ll shower first and then I’ll head over to the pub and get us a feed and some beer, unless you want wine or something,” Crissy could tell by Steve’s tone that he expected her to drink beer, which was fine with her, she guessed that the wine in a place like this would come in a box.

Crissy’s mother had drunk cask-wine, which she called a ‘headache-in-handbag’, before she met her lover who introduced her to the joys of chilled Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc before he whisked her away to the land of the long white cloud.

Steve took his toiletry bag and a change of clothes into the bathroom while Crissy explored the room. The bed was little more than a double but the sheets were clean as was the bedspread. There was a tiny wooden table shoved against one wall with two wooden chairs either side, a minifridge with a small microwave on top, an electric kettle, a television bolted to the top of a dresser facing the bed and a couple of cheap prints hanging from the babyshit coloured walls. It was not quite depressing but certainly shabby. If you listened carefully you could hear the television sets in the other occupied rooms and the occasional raucous laugh from the pub situated at the other end of the motel. The place smelled vaguely of fried food and stale beer overlaid with cleaning products.

Crissy wasn’t paying so she couldn’t complain, although she knew that Steve expected sex in return for the lodgings and she was a little surprised that he hadn’t demanded a blowjob already. She studied the pub’s takeaway menu whilst she listened to Steve singing, or more rightly butchering, C.W. McCall’s ‘Convoy’ while he showered. He came out of the bathroom freshly showered, his hair still damp, wearing fresh clean King Gee khaki shorts and a work-shirt. Gone were his work boots, replaced by rubber thongs*. He smelled of deodorant and cheap cologne and Crissy was delighted that he had at least made an effort and showered but he hadn’t bothered shaving.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, nodding at the menu in her hand as he thumbed through his wallet.

“Whatever you're having,” Crissy realised that she was ravenous because she hadn't eaten anything in Gladstone.

“Ok, burger with the lot, chips and a carton of Fourex it is. Don’t forget to stay inside. You can smoke in here if you want,” Steve pointed to the circular aluminium ashtray on the table and hurried out the door.

Crissy took the shopping bag into the bathroom and found a place on the floor that Steve hadn’t soaked to put it down. She decided that she would wear some of the lingerie that Beverley had given her and make herself pretty and sexy for Steve. She owed him that much.

Crissy reached into the shopping bag and the first thing she found were the two small cardboard boxes that Beverley had tossed in at the last minute. She lowered the toilet seat cover, sat down, and studied them. The first was a blue and white box with the words ‘K-Y Jelly’ written on it. Crissy knew what it was but it was the second box that intrigued her. Inside was a red soft-plastic squeeze ball with a hard white plastic nozzle that threaded onto the squeeze ball. Crissy recalled some of the things that Beverley Lane had said…

“Albert Tanner was like you, you see. It was rumoured that he liked to dress up as a lady named Elspeth and entertain gentlemen who had a penchant for that kind of thing.”

“Some us even took it up the wrong ‘un.”

“If you ever do get around to exploring your new-found femininity further, you are going to need them.”

Crissy paled at first. Then she remembered what Steve had said…

“I’ve got a mandated rest stop in Mackay so we can really get into it Crissy,” What did he mean by ‘really get into it?’

She knew that Crissy was the first transvestite that Steve had ever been with and he was certainly smitten by her. Did he want more than oral relief? Crissy knew about anal sex and had sometimes dreamed of being ‘taken’ by an anonymous ‘Prince Charming’ but she had never really considered it. Although Christian had had his fair share of sex with girls, until Crissy met Steve she had never had a sexual encounter. She certainly liked sucking Steve’s cock. She liked that he liked her doing it and she loved it when she induced his orgasm and she had become sexually aroused whilst doing so. But wouldn’t anal sex hurt? Surely Elspeth wouldn’t ‘entertain gentlemen’ like that if it did?

She studied the instructions that came with the douche, set her resolve, stripped naked and followed the instructions word for word. When the water ran clear for the third time she figured she had succeeded in achieving the desired result. She put on the shower cap provided by the motel and took a shower and brushed her teeth then she stood in front of the mirror and studied her face. There was scarcely a hair to be seen on her cheeks and chin. The few that had been there had been plucked free by Beverley when she shaped her brows.

She opened the cosmetics case that Beverley had given her and studied the makeup palette and other cosmetics then went to work trying her best to achieve the same results that Beverley had, then she styled her hair. She put on the garterbelt, fully-fashioned stockings and the lace trimmed full-cut white nylon panties but didn’t bother to tuck. She decided to dispense with the brassiere and instead she put on the red satin negligée with the spaghetti shoulder straps and stepped into her brand new high heels. She doused herself with perfume and looked at herself in the mirror.

Crissy looked stunning and very sexy.

She snatched up the K-Y jelly and went into the room and lay on the bed, posing provocatively, waiting for Steve. She was already semi-erect in anticipation but extremely nervous.

“Sorry I’m late. I ran into a mate in the pub and had to have a beer with him,” Steve muttered as he burst through the door carrying a carton of beer under one arm and holding a paper sack filled with hot food in his other hand.

At first he didn’t notice Crissy lying on the bed and when he did he was speechless. Steve was not a very well educated man but he understood the words coquettish, provocative, seductive and enticing. Crissy, sprawled seductively on the bed with the red satin negligée clinging to her trim body, accentuating the slight swell of her belly and the curve of her buttocks, gave meaning to those words. The hem of her negligée rode high on her thighs revealing her long coltish legs sheathed in those dark-seamed, smoky-welted nylon stockings, her feet shod in the burnished black stilettos, her pretty face expertly enhanced with smoky eye makeup and inviting red lipstick, framed by her tousled blonde hair, was a sight to behold.

Steve hastily put the beer in the fridge and put the food on the table, stripped naked and approached the bed, his erect prong steering him towards the young woman he desired more than any other woman he had met in his life.

Sandy and the truck stop prossies were nowhere near his thoughts as he lay down beside Crissy and placed his hand on her hip and kissed her softly, his only thoughts were of what he wanted to do to Crissy. He wanted to roll Crissy on her back and mount her and ravish her but he controlled himself. This delectable creature was something to be slowly savoured, not devoured.

Steve still felt some reticence. He knew that under the bewitching makeup, the tantalising lingerie and enticing perfume that Crissy was different. But she was exotically and erotically different and she intrigued him. He wondered what it would be like when he entered her, if that was what she intended him to do. Maybe she was just going to kiss, cuddle and fellate him but if that was the case, why was there a tube of K-Y Jelly sitting in a prominent position on the bedside table?

They kissed softly at first, enjoying the space afforded by the hotel bed instead of the cramped confines of the sleeper. Steve gently fingered the soft satin of Crissy’s negligée and then his hand moved to her buttocks and he gently squeezed them, the negligée slid across her nylon panties making a faint hissing noise. His cock pressed against her belly, rubbing on the satiny fabric which elicited little tingles of delight from his sensitive organ. Crissy could feel his warm, viscous pre-ejaculate soak into the garment and moisten her flesh.

Crissy kissed him passionately and he took her in his arms and held her tight, delighting in the feeling of her tiny body wrapped in nylon and satin, drawing in her scent, tasting her lipstick and her sweet mouth as their tongues intertwined. Crissy felt the heft of his hard belly pressing against her body and his rigid pole poking her belly. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, his whiskers rasped against her soft cheeks, his cheap cologne did little to mask the scent of the pub. She loved the manliness of him, it amplified her own femininity. She felt a little vulnerable and helpless. This big, strong, older man was holding her tight, kissing her with unbridled passion, squeezing her soft buttocks, his cock hard and alive, dribbling precum, pressing into her. She felt his need and knew that she was soon to be deflowered.

Steve was aware that Crissy was erect, he could feel the silhouette of her cock through her panties against his body. When she had sat in the cab dressed in her little denim miniskirt he had been fascinated by the almost perfect Vee presented between her legs when her skirt rode up. Her pubic mound presented just like a woman’s pudenda in those delightful red satin panties; what they called in the trucking fraternity ‘a VW bonnet’ also known as a camel toe. He’d fleetingly wondered how she managed to do that but whatever technique she had used had been discarded, her cock pushed against the silky fabric of her panties and some primeval impulse was urging him to touch it.

“I’ve never done this before. Please be gentle,” Crissy managed to whisper around his fervent kisses.

Steve had no idea if Crissy was telling the truth and he really didn’t care. She had told Steve that before she climbed into his Mack she had never been with a man but if that was the truth she had certainly learnt how to suck a dick pretty quickly but the idea of taking her anal virginity incensed his ardour.

They had been lying side by side and Steve rolled Crissy onto her back, holding onto her so that he was lying on top of her. Crissy instinctively opened her legs. They hadn't broken the kiss, their lips were still locked together, their tongues flittering but now Steve’s cock was pressing against Crissy’s and she gasped into his mouth as he began to frot. The sensation of his hard cock rubbing against hers through the gossamer layer of translucent nylon panty was overwhelmingly erotic.

Steve too, was gratified by the sensuality that frottage induced. Deep inside his lizard brain a fleeting thought surfaced that what he was doing was ‘gay’ but he astutely reasoned that this gorgeous, sexy, feminine creature lying underneath him was no man. Issues of gender and sexuality were of no concern to Steve at this moment in time, he was too enraptured with the pleasure he was experiencing, as was the girl lying under him.

It was as if Crissy could read his mind because she too fleetingly wondered if what she was doing was right but feeling Steve’s weight on her tiny body, the heft of his hard belly pressing into hers, his cock fretting against her panty-clad organ, his passionate kisses and embraces, chased away any feelings of foreboding. She reached out for the K-Y Jelly and opened the cap one-handed, then she lifted her legs so that her buttocks were exposed. She locked her ankles behind Steve’s back and squeezed a globule of the emollient onto her fingers, snaked her hand inside her panties, and lubricated her sphincter. Then she squeezed another gobbet of the salve onto her fingers and glazed Steve’s phallus and she heard him gasp and hoped that she hadn’t overstimulated him into a premature ejaculation.

Steve was nearly overcome with excitement when Crissy lubricated his manhood and had to concentrate hard not to ejaculate before he was inside her. Thankfully Crissy wasted no time sliding his cock inside the gusset of her panties and positioning it at the entrance to her puckered bud. She too was close to extremis, holding back her climax with difficulty.

She looked up at him with those pretty smoky eyes filled with wonder, excitement and also a little circumspection and nodded at him.

Steve’s cock slid into Crissy’s anus like a slick rod snaking it’s way into a tight satiny burrow. Crissy felt only a fleeting second of pain, just a slight, sudden sting as Steve’s cock pierced her tight bud and then the pleasure receptors in her sphincter, anus and prostate lit up with an intensity that she had never experienced in her life. She hugged Steve, raking her nails across his back, shimmying her stocking-sheathed legs along his flanks, kissing him deeply. A muffled cry escaped her as she felt Steve’s cock fill her void and then she felt the organ inside her suddenly pulsate as Steve ejaculated inside her.

Crissy orgasmed right along with him, creaming her panties, her cock sliding across his hard belly as Steve rutted at her. Steve couldn’t hold back release and as soon as his cock slid into Crissy’s tight channel he ejaculated his essences deep in her rectum.

They clung to each other like shipwreck survivors, pawing and kissing each other, uttering obscenities as they orgasmed together in one joyous sensual earth-shattering explosion of lust and passion.

Steve felt Crissy’s hot spend anoint his belly and far from being repelled by it, it inflamed his desire. Usually after coitus he rolled off his wife or whatever truckstop lot-lizard he was fucking but his need to further pleasure himself and Crissy overcame his usual post-coital tristesse. He looked into Crissy’s eyes and saw tears sparkling in the corners but they were not tears of sorrow or regret, they were tears of joy.

She kissed him and whispered in his ear.

“Make love to me Steve. I want to feel that again,” and Steve did as he was told.

His organ remained fully erect and Steve began to fuck the beautiful, waiflike girl lying under him. His thick cock slid in and out of her tight anus, it’s passage eased by the K-Y Jelly and his own seminal secretions. Crissy lifted her bottom to meet his thrusts, her cock too was still fully engorged, tenting her cum-sodden panties. Steve’s cock ignited the synapses in her aching anus and her sphincter radiated freshets of delight as it girded Steve’s shaft. The head of his cock pressed against her prostate when he was fully inside her and she felt another orgasm slowly building.

Steve was in a world of carnal delight. Crissy’s pretty face was screwed up with concentration and her breathing was erratic and he knew that he had caused her to be so fully aroused. Her perfume invaded his nostrils, her mouth was eager to kiss him, her tongue a flickering dervish, her stockings caressed his sensitive flanks as she bucked and squirmed beneath him, impaling herself on his rigid rod. He could feel her hard penis pressed into his belly, her sodden panties grazing his flesh as she exuded every skerrick of pleasure from his body.

He was fucking her slowly, enjoying every second of their tryst, holding back his second climax until he knew that she was ready. Crissy dug her high heels into his flanks, like a rider urging on a stallion, and Steve obligingly began to fuck the little vixen harder and faster. He listened to her moan like a slattern as she rode his cock to another explosive climax. Her cock shuddered against his belly and he felt her scalding seed erupt through her panties. At the same time her anus undulated and it felt like silken-gloved fingers were milking his cock, expressing his seed into her tight slick channel. He orgasmed right along with her.

After they came down from their orgasmic highs Steve rolled off Crissy and snuggled up to her. She kissed him and ran her fingers along his hair-matted belly and down into his groin, taking his flaccid penis between her fingers and waggling it playfully.

“I never thought it would be like that,” she whispered.

“Me neither,” Steve surprised her when he squeezed her soft cock through her sodden panties.

“Remember a few days ago when you climbed into my truck and I told you that I was disappointed because you weren't a girl? Well forget I ever said that Crissy. I’ve never met anyone like you before and I feel so lucky to have met you,” Steve whispered into the fading light.

“You made me what I am Steve. You brought the woman out in me,” Crissy sighed.

“Also, I’m famished after all that fucking. I’ll microwave the food, you get the beer. We’ll eat in bed,” Crissy bounced up off the bed.

They ate and they talked and they drank a lot of beer but that didn’t effect Steve’s performance when they made love again. They slept the sleep of the satiated and when Steve woke her up at six in the morning he was hot for her. Crissy was still dressed in her lingerie and stockings and his cock had been pressed against her panty-clad ass most of the night. She made him wait under the pretext of needing to pee, which she did, but she also needed to use the douche again.

When she came out of the bathroom she was as horny as Steve was and she jumped on the bed and squatted over him and rode him cowgirl until they both orgasmed. Then it was time to shower and hit the road. Crissy toned down her makeup and put on the same denim skirt, tube top and sandals that she had been wearing since they left Brisbane but she was wearing fresh, new panties and at Steve’s insistence a pair of good quality pantyhose courtesy of Beverley Lane.

After two cups of instant coffee and a cigarette, what Steve called a ‘dingo’s breakfast’, they climbed into the truck and hit the road stopping only once for oral sex halfway to Cairns. Steve’s appetite for sex was insatiable but even he had limits.

To be continued

* Australian for flip-flops, jandals or zorries, depending on from where you hail.