Thursday, February 18, 2010

Tog Hill - The Return

The months after my innocent visit to Tog Hill were busy with life events; friends were getting married, children being born, normal life forged ahead. Under the mundane skin of my daily routine now bubbled a darker, less ordinary life. I couldn't wash away the image of me dressed, strutting my slutty stuff in Tog Hill, it played in like an old Super8 film in my imagination flickering through my dreams never leaving me.

Summer passed into autumn and after many sleepless nights of dreamily acted out that fantasy visit I realised the obvious, I really didn't want to expunge that image - on the contrary I secretly yearned to turn those dreamy night time imaginings into more concrete plans and transform them into reality.

It was October by the time I was mentally prepared for the return visit. I had carefully collected an outfit and as each item was ticked off my 'wants list' my femme confidence and excitement grew. A tarty shoulder length bottle blond wig had been found in a shop in Finsbury Park (the Nigerian lady owner non-plussed at my purchase of a sweet little black velvet bow hair clip).The blonde wig was the same make as my first proper wig, a gorgeous flowing brunette bought in a back street Sue Ryder shop, so I knew it was good quality and would be a good fit. I hunted high and low for the rest of the items I had in mind. In Dalston I found a charity shop overflowing with short black pleated skating/netball style skirts, I bought 3 (eventually discovering that, corseted, I was a size 14) they were elasticated and the size was perfect. The corset itself however was going to be tough, eventually I had to bravely visit Cover Girl on Upper Street in bustling Islington. Pauline Cutler took me under her wing and measured me for a simple black satin, underbust waist cincher. I spent a delirious hour in the shop whilst she tugged and tightened me down into a 32' inch waist and helped clasp my stocking tops to the 6 wide 50's style suspender legs, it felt so wonderful. As I admired my new hourglass figure in the mirror Pauline popped her head around the curtain and whistled at me - how gorgeous did I feel! She sidled into the booth and made me do a twirl running her hands up and down the shiny black satin that described my nipped in waist checking my seams were straight. In her hand she held a sheer white nylon off the shoulder peasant girl blouse which she demanded I try on. It as just right, the corset pushing up my little boobs just showed as a mini cleavage through the thin material. Just moving around the little cubicle posing I could feel my nipples and clitty respond to the sublime caresses of the thin nylon, this was bliss! When I got back to my flat I rushed upstairs to try the corset on again and as I unwrapped it a pair of black seamed stockings fell out - secreted there compliments of lovely Pauline. Despite the generous and thoughtful pressy the bliss didn't come cheap and buying those two items had nearly bankrupted me. I had to go a bit down market to find the remainder of my outfit, cruising the grubbiest of stalls and charity stores for heels and a handbag.

More time slipped by, winter was approaching and I was getting nervous that I was too late to try Charla out on the adventure that was now a concrete plan. Then in late october the opportunity presented itself, I had a job crop up in Cardiff. My brain went into excited overtime, I booked myself into a cheap hotel for thursday night so I could drive over to Tog Hill for the afternoon then carry on to Cardiff that night and be ready for work on friday morning.

Thursday arrived, I drove towards the M4 weaving through the heavy London traffic nervous but excited. On the passenger seat sat my holdall containing it's precious cargo of high heels, suspenders, make up , 'mock croc' hand bag, the whole lexicon of the brave new Charla! My heart pounding in my breast I pulled into Fleet services car parking area, I cruised to the far end. I found a parking slot behind a trailer and container unit minus it's cab. Glancing round I flipped down the sunshade and swiveled it to the side window to curtain me off from the car park side, I pulled off my tee shirt and fished out my make up bag. I held the panstick up to my face looking into the rear view mirror, I paused, it was a big moment I was leaving a part of my 'man' self behind. I took a deep breath and began. It was super difficult in the confines of the car interior but at last , after two goes at my lipliner and 40minutes fumbling I was at last applying my false eyelashes.

My face acceptable, I took another deep breath and stripped off my jogging pants, there I was naked in the car park of fleet services, I dearly hoped no one of authority would happen along! I slipped on my stockings and wiggled into my corset, all was going well until a big Volvo tractor unit returned to collect the container I was hidden behind. Eeeeeek! I rummaged in my hold all and pulled out a black baseball cap. I quickly jammed it on my head, yanking the peak down over my made up girlie face as much as I could with out mucking up my lashes! As the lorry began backing up I managed to slip into my peasant girl blouse. Now at least I look half decent, odd but half decent, moments later the driver sauntered around to my side to hook up the hydraulic cables to his cab, he glanced over at me and I pretended to be busy tuning my radio, from the corner of my eye I saw him swing himself up into his cab then heard the thud of the cab door slamming shut. I sighed with relief.

Contorting myself like an epileptic I managed to fix all six suspender legs to my stocking tops, that accomplished I shimmied into my skirt. Oh my gosh - I was nearly ready, defiantly I flipped up the sunshade and removed the cap disguise. The car park was busy but the nearest civilians were over 50yards away, I carefully primped the bottle blond wig and gently pulled it on, now the reflection in the mirror was Charla, she smiled like a wicked accomplice as she clipped the cute black velvet bow to the right side, over her ear. 'It's the little girlie touches that count', Pauline's advice echoed in my mind. I hung a sweet little diamante heart pendant around my neck and an even cuter silver anklet around my right ankle. All that remained in the hold all was my hand bag containing a pair of vintage Jackie O style sunglasses and my black high heels, I had no intention of learning to drive in heels that day so slipping on my trainers and sliding the enormous sunglasses on I turned the ignition key.

My mouth was dry & my hands trembled slightly as I pulled into Tog Hill, it was 3pm and a balmy late autumn afternoon. it was as I remembered it, but busier. I swallowed, there were a dozen cars dotted about the car park, but I couldn't see any drivers. I let my femme confidence draining away and almost got cold feet but I steadied my nerve by drinking some Coke. I made myself breathe and relax, 'enjoy this thrilling moment' I repeated to myself over and over again. Checking my reflection, my clumsy swig of Coke had smudged my lippy. I busied myself primping hair and lashes and reapplying my lippy to perfection. After slipping on my high heels, adding a spray of Chanel No5 to my neck and boobs I realised I was stalling!
My mantra kicked in, 'Enjoy this thrilling moment!'... 'Enjoy this thrilling moment!' I took several more deep breaths reached for the door handle, 'click' it swung open. I scanned around but still couldn't see any actual people. My handbag over my right arm I carefully stood up and stepped away from my car. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the side window, I gulped. Locking the car and putting the keys in my hand bag, I smoothed my hands down over my skirt turned and headed over to the toilet block. My heels clicked loudly announcing my presence. I walked carefully over to the little 70's building and looked in both Gents and Ladies loos, deserted. No curious guys, no none. Part of me as relieved part of me disappointed, I walked into the ladies over to a large mirror that sat over the sinks. I shaped my blonde hair and checked my lipstick and lashes again, all puuurfekt. After a few minutes I began to allow myself to relax and enjoy this terrific adventure and start of a new chapter. I was now 'out' as Charla, not just a secret bedroom tv, I smiled and posed in the mirror enjoying my horny reflection. I caught my breath as the sound of tyres crunching over the car park tarmac echoed in the loo. By the time I tiptoed out I just caught the boot of a big BMW disappearing passed the door heading for the exit. I exhaled, my hand over my heart pendant, the way my heart was pounding I felt sure it must actually be bouncing on my chest!

I stood by the door relaxing once again as peace descended over Tog Hill, a playful breeze brushed my blouse against my erect nipples, flicked up and tugged at my pleated skirt the cool air flowing over my naked thighs and bottom cheeks - all very horny and glamorous! I was relaxing enough to start getting turned on and began toying with the idea of stroking myself in the ladies in front of that big mirror. That instant I saw two men appear through a gap in the hedge that bordered the car park. I tried to act nonchalant but they barely glanced at me before going to their respective cars. I was as non plussed as the Nigerian lady wig shop owner! They had hardly noticed me, dressed like this, it was incredibly deflating. The incident prompted my cautious half to re-emerge and decide that perhaps that was enough adventures for one day. As I headed for my car the BMW swept back into he car park straight up to me, the driver side window slipped open, 'Hi darlin' thought I saw you just then', drawled a grinning young guy in a pale blue shirt and stripy tie. 'not buggering off are you naughty gal, I just cum back to see you specially!', he had a pronounced Bristol or west country accent. 'I've just been powering my nose, and I was errrr', I offered in the girliest voice I could muster. He looked like some kind of sales rep, 'stay right there you beauty, I'll park up'.

I watched my new 'beau' swing into a space and stride over to me, he took my hand and led me back to the side of the building facing the woods. 'Let's have a proper look at yer, giz a twirl then',
I rotated slowly easing into slut mode, I looked over my shoulder and smiled at him, 'mmmmmm
lovely bum gal, love the sussies too. He pulled my skirt up and ran his hand boldly up my stocking tops pulling my panties up into the cleft of my cheeks which he then gave a playful slap' I tottered forward letting out a yelp. He laughed and when I had turned around he had pulled out a large erect cock from his flies, 'you like that babe?' I nodded and stepped towards him taking hold of his hot penis, I worked it with my hand until he pushed me down to a good cocksucking height. I felt so good to have his cock slide between my ruby red lips and as I worked the head of his cock with m tongue I revelled in his moans of ecstasy. I felt such a whore squatting in front of a strange guy it was glorious. I pumped away with my head until he spasmed and I tasted his salty cum fill my mouth. He stiffened and suddenly withdrew his cock, 'look out sweetie' there's a car cumin', he zipped up his fly and strolled away from me. Yikes! I swallowed his cum and trotted into the sanctuary of the Ladies.

I sat in a cubicle for a few minutes, staring at a very graphic drawing of a tv girl - her legs splayed, a large cucumber or dildo stretching her pussy hole and a hand wanking her tiny erect penis, another cock was plunged into her mouth...with the mental image of me squatting before my man friend and sucking him off playing in my head, the horny mood reinforced by the crossdressing erotica scrawled over the walls I reached into my panties and walked over to the mirror. I watched the brand new slut Charla slowly stroke herself to a shuddering orgasm. The sounds of tyres on gravel had long faded away when I eventually ventured out. The BMW had gone and as before there was no one around. I walked as sexily as could back to my car, savouring this rare opportunity to be Charla, to feel the breeze against my bare thighs to feel my little skirt blowing against my stocking clad legs. I was now an addict and I knew that although this afternoon had been an experiment and a rare opportunity it had been a great success and would by no means be a one off event.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Tog Hill

From time to time my duties would take me on boring errands from Bournemouth to depots and offices around the South. One such journey, destination Cardiff, took me on the tedious 3hour drive up the A46 through Warminster joining the M3 at J18. As I trundled north through Hinton, I spotted the welcome appearance of a faded blue 'P' signpost telling me that a rest stop was 100m ahead. I decided it would be a good idea to stretch my legs and have a pee before I hit the motorway. That place was called Tog Hill.

I pulled into the scrubby car park, my tyres scrunching over the gravely surface as I made a circuit of the folorn toilet block that occupied the centre of the rest area. The place was utterly deserted, I didn't even bother to lock my car door as I made my way into the building.

The dreary exterior hid a naughty secret, inside the plain plaster walls were covered with graffiti of a rather pornographic nature. Until my eyes adjusted to the unlit interior the walls looked like they had been decorated with an impressionistic abstract scribble design, as my vision improved though the abstract became clearer, more figurative. My eyes roved over the walls, they were covered in beautifully executed line drawings of transvestites sporting erect penises and performing every conceivable debauched sex act with male admirers who were, to a man, hung like donkeys. I wandered in and out of the cubicles a smile playing over my lips, I loved the style of the drawings they reminded me of Bill Ward's work, the trannies or she-males (as some were depicted having boobs) wore fifties style stockings and suspenders, flared skirts, girdles, longline bras, flouncing hair, ribbons, high heels. They were exciting, my heart beat faster as I read the scrawled mini accounts of encounters between men and TV's, celebrating their depraved acts. As I headed toward the exit one drawing caught my eye, a trannie stood outside the toilet building in high heels raising her mini skirt and revealing a teeny erect cock, she looked proud with a pouting, inviting smirk shaping her cupids bow lips. I realised my cock was pressing hard against my jeans. The sound of another car pulling into the rest area snapped me out of my reverie.

Buckling my seat belt on I thought how exciting to be like that TV slut in the drawing, but would I ever have the courage to dress like that in a place like this? At my present stage my outfit was nowhere near convincing enough to give me confidence.  I was still a very shy, private girl. It would mean working harder on my TV persona and thus far I hadn't really committed myself to being a serious TV, maybe this would be a turning point......I turned the ignition key and drove away from Tog hill.

Over the next three months I wrestled with dreams and plans to revisit Tog Hill 'en femme'. The plans were half-hearted but they never left my mind. 'What would it feel like to parade myself like that shamelessly?'...........