M Is for Mandi

I then started to transform myself. Martin, aka Mart, typical Brummie business man, was about to disappear, to be replaced by Mandi, a sexy tramp who was desperate to experience the thrill of seeing a guy stiffen in his jeans. At least that's what I hoped I'd be doing that first evening out on the town. I started on my eyes, carefully applying black mascara and then black eyeliner. I used a neutral base to cover any remaining trace of facial hair and added a little light rouge to my cheeks.

Next, beginning to quiver at the thought of 'who' I was becoming, I put on a rather bright red lipstick. I looked at myself, at herself, at 'Mandi' as she began to appear in the mirror. I'd been able to practice even when Sarah had gone out short-term, and I was confident in my ability to get at least the make-up right. I was becoming beautiful right before my eyes. I combed back my own somewhat thinning hair and put on my wig. It had been one of my most expensive purchases for the evening but after looking at myself there and then I knew it had been well worth it. It was my natural hair colour, a reddish brown, or pretty close to it, cut to just below shoulder length, straight and long and sleek.

Delightful! I was feeling good already.

With my face and hair done I turned to my body. Whatever happened, however the evening turned out, I desperately hoped that my body would be appreciated by someone, someone male, that evening. Exactly how, I wasn't sure, but I knew I wouldn't get many chances like this, the evening and the efforts really shouldn't, they couldn't, be wasted.

I had tried really hard not to get too hard while doing my make-up, not at all easy sometimes, so was able to rather comfortably push my penis down between my legs and hold it tight in that position with the sheer black panties I'd bought specially for this evening. Side-ties of course, well, they might just have to come off! I slipped on the matching garter belt and stockings, felling better by the minute.