Retirement Ch. 01

I set the coffee pot on the thick thermal pad to protect the finish on the dining room table. I set cups in front of my two daughters and one for myself and poured coffee into all of them. I pushed the little tray with cream and sugar to within reach of the girls and sat down to sip on my black coffee.

Girls... that's a laugh. They were grown women. Women I was proud to call my daughters. Both married to good men I was proud to call sons-in-law. The mothers of my five grandchildren.

I was pretty sure I knew why they were here. They'd tried to bring it up several times in the past few months, but I'd always managed to deflect the conversation, basically letting them know that I wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

It was just over six months since my beautiful Martha passed away. It wasn't sudden, but at the same time it was. She was only 62 years old, and seemed to be very healthy. We entertained. We travelled. We enjoyed our early retirement.

Until that day when we didn't anymore. When the pain in her lower back wouldn't go away and I finally convinced her to go to our doctor. That day when we got the worst news of my life.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on a working day?" I asked.

"Daddy, you know why we're here," Crystal, the older daughter said as she stirred the cream into her coffee. "We have to talk about it sooner or later."

I sighed and nodded. "Okay. We'll talk," I said. "But know this. I'm not making any promises today. I'll listen to what you have to say."

"That's all we ask, daddy," Madison, the younger daughter said. I noticed she drank her coffee black, same as me. "We just want to give you some options."

"Okay. So where do you want to start?" I asked.

"Well," Crystal said. "Let's start with the house. This house was too much when it was you and Mama. Now... well, don't you agree you don't need all this space?"

I nodded. "I'll agree to that. What's your plan?"

Madison immediately launched into her plans, which apparently Crystal agreed with.

"For one thing, in today's market this house will sell fast and for a good price," she said. Being a real estate agent, she would know about such things. "So I've been looking at some options for you that I think you will like. I've found a great little retirement village in Greenburg."

She went on to describe the place as small cottages, some singles and some duplexes, spread over a nice acreage not far from Greenburg Lake. Most of the cottages had a single car garage and a covered patio. There was a Community Building where meals were served daily, a recreation area with a pool table, some electronic games, and tables to play cards and dominos. There was a chapel where they had services on Sunday. They also used the chapel as an auditorium when groups came in to entertain the residents.

There was a social director who planned events and even took residents on field trips from time to time.

Attached to the Community Building was an Assisted Living complex for those who needed a little more help, so there were nurses on premises 24/7.

"It would be a great place for you, daddy," Crystal said when Madison paused for a breath. "People your own age and a little older. Activities. A great place for your morning walk that I know you love. They even have a small gym with exercise equipment."

I finished my second cup of coffee as they finished their sales pitch. "Sounds like a nice place," I said simply.

"So you'll consider it?" Madison asked. "I can arrange for us to take a tour this week if you want to."

I looked back and forth at them. Their faces were so earnest. They weren't trying to shove me into a "home". They were trying to find a place for me to live out my 'golden years'. Which, at only 62 years old, I didn't think I'd reached yet!

I took a deep breath. "There would be so much to do," I said softly. I waved my hand around the room. "What am I supposed to do with all this stuff?"

Crystal reached over and put her hand over mine. "Some of it you'll keep. Some of it we'll take," she said. "Some of it we'll sell. We'll help you."

I looked around the room, at all the pictures, little pieces of furniture, things Martha and I had gathered during our 40 year marriage. I remembered each one of them.

"We'll help you decide, daddy," Madison said softly. She had her hand on my other arm. "Why don't we start with closets? I know there's a ton of clothes you no longer wear. And all of Mama's clothes."

"Uh, yeah, that might be a good place to start," I said hesitantly. "Uh, yeah, we could probably do that."

Crystal squeezed my hand. "Daddy, we don't have to get rid of anything you want to keep. You know, if you, uh, wanted to keep some of Mama's things for, you know, uh, sentimental reasons, we'd understand."

I nodded. "Yeah. That would be nice," I said quietly. I'd known this time might come one day. I wasn't expecting it so soon.

Madison stepped away from the table to make the appointment at Green Lake Estates. Crystal's phone rang and she answered it as she walked to the other room. I stared off into space, thinking.

I met Martha when we were both freshmen at the State University in Wellston. We were put together by random draw as partners for a project in a business class. We were both working toward careers in business- me in mortgage banking and her in the retail world.

I liked Martha from the beginning. I liked how she dressed. She always had on a dress or skirt and blouse for class. The dresses were a little old fashioned- buttons up the front, a fitted waist and a skirt that flared out and reached almost to her knees. Same with the skirt/blouse outfits. A little old fashioned.

As we talked about the project we also talked about ourselves. We learned that we had a lot in common. To begin with, we were both nerds. We both liked to read. We both liked numbers, and number games. We both liked old movies, and Martha was a little surprised that I liked old romance movies. And we learned that we were both virgins.

That partnership led to us going out for coffee, and for dinner, and to movies. I wasn't sure what kind of relationship we had, or what Martha wanted... or even what I wanted.

I'd dated a few girls in high school, mostly to school functions. I'd kissed them, and even kind of made out with Bobbie Sue Hankins in the front seat of my mom's sedan when I took her home from the Senior Prom.

To be honest I wasn't altogether sure about my sexual orientation. I usually thought about girls when I masturbated, which was fairly often. But I also thought about boys sometimes, especially if I was wearing a pair of panties and a bra and a slip, or maybe some hose and some low heels and a dress, all things I'd managed to rescue from the cast-offs bag my mom set aside for the Salvation Army Store when she cleaned out her closet or drawers.

Now that I was in college and had a place of my own I'd added some new things to my stash of girlie things. I loved to dress up in my girlie things when I was at home alone. Which was most of the time.

So I didn't push Martha to have sex, and she seemed relieved that, even when we were making out, which was fairly often, my hands stayed away from her 'private parts'. Well, mostly. Sometimes I'd move my hand to her small, soft breast and she'd let me rub and squeeze it for just a moment before she moved my hand. But I noticed she almost always moaned a little and opened her mouth a little wider when I touched her.

Our friendship deepened, until one night when we were at my apartment making out Martha took her right hand from behind my head. She pulled my left arm up until she was holding my hand. I wondered what she was doing so I stopped kissing her. I was shocked when she held my hand in hers and placed it squarely on her right breast, then looked up at me and smiled.

"Now kiss me some more," she whispered as she put her hand on the back of my head and pulled my lips to hers. I didn't move my hand from her breast. But I didn't do anything. I didn't squeeze or caress her breast. Just sat there with my lips against hers and my hand on her breast.

"Martha, what are you doing?" I asked, pulling my face away from hers.

"I'm giving you permission to touch me," she said softly.

My plan was to move full speed ahead and see how far she would let me go. And how far she would go with me. Maybe it would stop with me fondling her breasts. Maybe she would next give me permission to touch under her skirt. Maybe she would let me undress her.

I squeezed and fondled both of her breasts, then started to unbutton her blouse. She offered no resistance and soon her blouse was open and her bra was unhooked and up around her neck, giving me free access to her perky b-cup boobs.

Martha pushed her hand under my Polo shirt and rubbed and caressed my chest in much the same way I was rubbing and caressing hers. She even pinched my nipples between her thumb and index finger, causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot through my body.

When I started to caress her thigh she spread her legs just a little. She didn't protest when I moved my hand further up her thighs until I could feel moist heat in the crotch of her pantyhose.

She dropped her hand to the crotch of my jeans and found the outline of my hard shaft.

"I want you to be my first, Sammy," she panted we kissed.

"Mmmm, baby, that is so hot," I said, pushing my tongue against hers while I rubbed hard on the damp spot in her hose. "I'll be your first when you're ready. And you'll be my first."

"I'm ready, Sammy," she whispered. "Now. Tonight. Make love to me, Sammy."

And that's where my mind screeched to a halt!

I couldn't make love to her without getting undressed with her. And if I got undressed with her she would discover my secret. She would see my nylon bikini brief panties with lace inserts on the hips. She would see my pretty red toe nails. She would see my smooth shaved legs and underarms and chest.

I sat back and stopped touching her. I turned so that I was no longer facing her.

"Sammy? What's wrong? Don't you want to make love to me?" she asked, her voice sounding hurt.

I looked at the floor in front of the couch. "Of course I do, Martha," I said quietly.

She scooted up beside me and wrapped both of her arms around my right arm. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

I was trying to think of what to tell her when she suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh, I know," she said, her face buried against my arm. "Now you think I'm a slut! And you don't want to be with a slut."

I pulled my arm free from her grasp and put it around her. "No, Martha, I know you're not a slut," I said.

"Then what is it?" she asked, still sniffling.

I took a deep breath and stood up. "I'm going to get myself a strong drink," I said. "Do you want one, too? Maybe some wine?"

She looked up at me with her tear streaked face. "A drink? Sammy, what is it? Yes, if you need a drink to tell me then I probably need one to hear it."

I walked around the couch to the kitchen area of my small apartment. I took my prized bottle of Crown Royal out of the cabinet. I poured a generous portion in a tumbler for myself, then mixed a 1/4 Crown 3/4 Ginger Ale for Martha. I added a couple of ice cubes to each tumbler, then went back to the couch.

Martha had sat up and pulled her skirt back down around her legs. She'd pulled her blouse closed, but didn't button it. She looked nervous as she took the drink from me.

I took a big gulp of my strong drink, and winced at the burn as it went down. I let the burn hit bottom, then took another smaller drink. By the time the second burn hit bottom I was starting to relax.

"Martha, I'm going to tell you something that will probably surprise you and likely disgust you," I said. I took another small gulp of my drink and turned to look her in the eyes. "I'm going to tell you something about me that no one else in the world knows. And I won't blame you if you get up and leave. All I ask is that you keep my secret."

"Of course I will, Sammy," she said.

"I'm not the man you think I am, Martha." I turned away, unable to face her. "I'm not much of a man at all, Martha. Not a man like you deserve."

Martha set her drink on the coffee table and scooted closer to me. "Sammy? What in the world are you talking about? I know you're a man. I felt..."

I laughed. "What you felt makes me a male, not a man. Please, just listen. This will take a while. Let me know if you need another drink and I'll get it for you. But for now, just listen. No talking. Okay?"

Martha nodded. "Okay," she said quietly.

I sipped on my drink, then started. "Martha, I like to dress up like a woman," I said quietly.

I heard Martha gasp, but she stayed silent. Waiting for me to continue.

Now that I'd said that I wasn't sure how to continue. But I knew I needed to. She needed to know more. So I started telling her the story of how I'd discovered a love for the feel of nylon and lace when I was younger. The love of wearing pretty panties and soft slips and even bras that didn't fit me.

I told her about my mom catching me and laughing and telling me that I looked ridiculous in her things, and how I learned to be very careful so I'd never get caught again.

And how as I got older I loved to wear a dress and hose and even heels. And how now that I lived in my own place and had privacy I often dressed up while I was at home, and how I never planned to tell anyone about this, ever, ever.

But now I had to be honest with her so she could go on and save her virginity for the real man she deserved to marry.

The telling took less than an hour, and when she thought I was ending it Martha got up and mixed us both another drink. When she came back to the couch her blouse was still hanging open, but her bra had disappeared. I wasn't sure when she'd taken it off.

"So can I ask questions now?" she asked.

I nodded. "I'm surprised you don't just leave," I said, maybe a little more harshly than I intended.

"So am I," she said. "But I'm not. So, first things first. Be honest with me, Sammy. Do you want to be a woman? Because you know if you do, well, it can happen these days."

I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "No, I really don't," I told her. "I feel really good when I dress up, but I'm happy being a man... or a male."

Martha nodded. "Okay. Next question. Are you gay? Is that why you don't want to make love to me? Because you want to be with a man?"

This was a harder question. Sometimes I had fantasies of having sex with a man. Especially when I masturbated while dressed as a woman. But when I looked at Martha, I realized that I did want to make love to her. And told her so.

Martha nodded. She sat back and reached under her skirt with both hands. I saw her raise her bottom, and then I saw her pushing her panties and hose down her legs. She pulled them off of her feet, then stood up. She turned to face me as she unzipped her skirt and let it fall around her feet. She let her blouse slide down her arms and tossed it aside.

She stood in front of me, fully nude. I'd seen pictures of naked women. I'd seen naked women in porn videos. But I'd never had a real, live naked woman stand in 2 feet in front of me.

Martha reached down and took my drink from me. She set it on the coffee table, then reached for my hands. She pulled me to my feet. She grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Then she unbuckled my belt and opened my jeans.

When she started to push them down I reached down to stop her. She looked into my eyes and put pressure on the jeans to push them down. I moved my hands and let her push them down my legs, and raised my feet one at a time for her to take them off of my feet. As she pulled my pants off she also pulled my socks off, exposing my bright red toe nails.

"Pretty toes," she said simply as she tossed the jeans aside. She stepped back and looked at me. My cock was hard, bulging in my yellow nylon panties. She stepped close and ran her hand over the bulge. I thought I might lose control and shoot my load right then. But I didn't.

"Pretty panties," she smiled. Then she hooked her fingers in the waistband of the panties and slid them down my legs, too. Again I raised my feet to let her take them off of me. My hard cock jutted from my body, pointing toward her face when she stood back up.

She stood back up and smiled at me. "I am so turned on right now," she whispered. She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We fell together on the bed, our lips together again. Her arms were around my chest as she pulled me on top of her.

"Hold yourself up," she whispered as she reached between us to guide my bulbous head to her virgin hole. When she had it in the place she wanted it she started to push her hips up, forcing it slightly between her wet lips. "Push gently," she said.

I started to push. I'd like to say I pushed it into her and started to stroke it in and out like I'd seen in the porn movies. But what actually happened was that as she gripped my throbbing shaft and rubbed my sensitive head against her soft, wet lips... well, that was all I needed.

I groaned as my cock throbbed. I felt the 1st jet shoot out of me onto her pussy. I heard Martha say "OH!" and pull my cock up to that the 2nd landed in her curly black pubic hair. The 3rd and 4th streams landed on her belly. I pushed my hips down, smearing the cum on my pubis and lower belly. My hips jerked 3 or 4 times, and then it was over.

I fell to the side on my back, pulling my still oozing dick out of her hand. I lay on my back and covered my eyes with my arm.

"I'm sorry, Martha," I said, my voice trembling. "I can't even make love to you like you deserve."

I felt her get out of the bed. I thought she was going to the living room to get dressed and leave. And I didn't blame her. Why would a beautiful, sexy, smart woman like Martha want to stay with a failure of a man like me?

I heard her in the bathroom. 'Of course,' I thought. 'She needs to clean my cum off of her before she puts her clothes on.' I wanted to sit up and talk to her, to tell her again how sorry I was. But I couldn't.

I had my arm over my eyes, but I had my eyes open. I watched Martha come out of the bathroom. I expected her to turn to go to the living room. I didn't expect to feel the movement of her crawling back on the bed.

She sat cross-legged beside me on the bed. I moved my arm and looked at her, wondering what she had in mind. She reached out and rubbed her fingers in the sticky cum on my belly, then wrapped her fingers around my still semi-hard shaft. She jacked her hand up and down a few times, then leaned over and took my bulbous head into her mouth.

"Martha! What are you doing?"

She didn't answer. She bobbed her head up and down over my crotch, her soft lips caressing my shaft, her tongue swirling around my sensitive head when she pulled back. My cock returned to full hardness quickly.

She sat up and smiled at me. "We're not finished yet," she said as she got on her knees and swung her right leg over me.

She reached down to again guide my mushroom head to her virgin hole. I lay still and let her get it positioned. When she was ready she started to push down. Again I could feel her soft lips opening to let me in. This time, though, I didn't blow my load before she could accomplish her goal.

She gasped when the head slipped inside her. I saw her wince. She put her hands on my chest and I felt her fingers clench.

"Martha, if it hurts..." I started to say.

"Shhh," she said, and she kept pushing. Sweat was beginning to break out on her forehead. Her eyes were closed and her teeth were clenched.

Finally she was completely down on me. I could feel her wetness around the base of my throbbing shaft. Martha's hands were still on my chest. The sweat was now dripping off of her nose onto my chest. Beads of sweat ran down her chest and dripped off of her nipples.

She sat on me, breathing deeply. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Finally she opened her eyes and smiled at me. She laid down on me, her face inches from mine.

"There," she said, her voice a little ragged. "I gave my virginity to the man I want to spend my life with."

I put my hands on her face and pulled her mouth to mine. "I love you, Martha," I said as we started to kiss.

"I love you, too, Sammy."

She started to move her hips, just a little at first, but more as she got used to it. I shoved my tongue into her mouth, and she let me. She was concentrating more on what was happening at the other end. She gripped my thighs with her knees and managed to get her arms around my shoulders.

"Roll us over, Sammy," she gasped. "I want you on top of me."

When I was on top of her she planted her feet flat on the bed and started to push her pussy up to meet my meager thrusts.

"Now, Sammy," she said. "Fuck me now!"

Her use of the word 'fuck' surprised me. In the 5 months we'd been dating I'd never heard her use a cuss word... not even a hell or damn. Now she was under me, pulled me down against her sweaty chest, urging me to fuck her.

And I did. I fucked her until I had another strong cum, this time inside her. When I rolled off of her the second time we were both sweaty and gasping for breath.

I finally caught my breath enough to ask her- "Did you cum?" I was pretty sure she didn't.

She shook her head. "I don't think so." She rolled on her side and put her hand on my sweaty chest and pressed her sweaty tits against my arm. "But that's okay, Sammy. It felt really good. I got really close a few times. Women don't cum like men do."

"How do you know that?" I asked her.

"Well, you know, girl talk in the dorm," she said. "We talk about sex and stuff. A lot of the girls have sex, you know."

"And they tell you they don't cum when they have sex?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," she said. "Most of them say the only way they cum is if the guy goes down on them, or if they used their own fingers."

I lay there and thought about that for a moment. Going down on a woman was something I'd wanted to do for a long time. I'd read about it in stories. I'd seen it in porn movies. Mostly it was the women going down on the men, or a woman going down on another woman, but sometimes the man would go down on the woman, and it seemed like she really enjoyed it.

I rolled on my side and pushed Martha to her back. I kissed her hard, then started to lick my way down her sweaty chest.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" she asked. But she wasn't stopping me. In fact, when my lips closed around her rock hard left nipple she put her hand on the back of my head and moaned. "Oh, Sammy, that feels so good!"

When I started moving my head further down across her sweaty belly she figured out what I was planning. She put her hand under my chin to stop me.

"Sammy, I'm all sweaty," she said softly. "And, uh, well, you already fu... you were in me. And you came in me."

I looked up at her and smiled. "Shhh."

When I moved between her legs the first thing I noticed was her scent. I'd smelled it before when I laid my head in her lap while we watched a movie. I'd smelled it earlier when she first took her hose and panties and skirt off and stood 2 feet in front of me naked. But the aroma coming from her crotch now was like nothing I'd ever smelled. I loved it.

I lowered my head to her pussy and extended my tongue. I wasn't sure what to do. I thought about the stories I'd read of men eating pussy, and women eating pussy. I knew Martha had a clit, and I was pretty sure it was right at the top of her slit. I put my tongue on her and moved up.

I felt a hard little nub just above her hole, and when my tongue touched it Martha let out a gasp and her hips jerked. I started to lick the nub, and her hips started to move in rhythm to my tongue. She put her hands on my head and held me where she wanted me.

"Oh, Sammy, yes!" she moaned. "Oh, baby, baby, that feels so good! Mmmmm, Sammy, yes!"

I could feel my cock start to stir as I inhaled her sexy aroma and tasted her salty fluid. Her words were so sexy, and soon I was humping the bed with my hard cock while I licked her very wet pussy.

"Oh, Sammy, right there! Right fucking there!" Martha cried out. I licked harder. Her hips bucked up, slamming her pubic bone almost painfully against my mouth. Her fingers grabbed my hair, pulling my mouth down harder on her.

Then her thighs clenched on my head. Her feet were flat on the bed. She used her legs to lift her ass up. I couldn't move. She had her hand on my forehead pushing my face back from her pussy. A high pitched whine came from somewhere in the room. I was pretty sure it was from her mouth.

When she relaxed she pushed my head away and rolled to her side, away from me, curled up in a ball. I looked up and saw her butt exposed to me. I couldn't resist. I leaned up and kissed her left butt check, then ran my tongue through her crack and across her puckered hole. She slapped at me.

"Sammy, stop! What are you doing? That's nasty!"

I laughed and moved up behind her and pulled her to me. She let me spoon her and kiss her on the neck.

"I'm guessing you liked that?" I giggled softly.

She giggled, too. "No. I fucking loved it!"

I laughed. "That's 3 times you've used that word," I told her. "Is it becoming a habit?"

She sighed as I kissed her neck. "Only when we're in bed," she said. "Why, are you offended?"

I licked her ear lobe. "I fucking love it," I whispered. "It does things to me when you say it." I pushed my again hard dick into her ass crack.

"Sammy! Do you need more?" she asked, pushing her ass back against me.

"I'm not sure I can ever get enough of you," I said.

She rolled onto her back and spread her arms and legs. "I'm all yours."

I rolled on top of her. This time my dick slipped easily into her. I saw her wince a little.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked her.

"I'm a little sore," she said.

"I'm sorry." I started to pull back. "We don't have to..."

She wrapped her legs around my thighs. "Don't you dare pull out of me," she said.

I kissed her and started to stroke in and out a little gentler than I did the first time.

"I love how you feel in me," she whispered as she pushed her hips up to meet my thrusts.

After my 3rd cum of the evening I roll off of her again, and she snuggled up to my side. "I guess that answers the question of whether or not you're gay," she giggled.

We fell asleep naked and sweaty and satisfied.

I woke up to sunshine coming through the cracks in the mini blinds. Martha wasn't in bed with me, but I could hear her in the other room. I grabbed a pair of nylon shorts from my dresser and slipped them on to go join her.

Martha was in the kitchen. She had made coffee and was looking to see if I had anything to cook for breakfast. She was still naked.

"You'll need to wear an apron if you're going to cook like that," I laughed.

"Aren't you the modest one?" she giggled looking at my shorts.

I stuck my thumbs in the elastic waistband and shoved the shorts down my legs until they dropped around my feet. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

"There? Is this better?" I asked her.

She smiled as she walked to me. "Much better," she cooed as she kissed me. "Sit down and I'll get you a cup of coffee. We need to talk."

I was a little apprehensive about what she wanted to talk about. But she was still here... and still naked.

"Ok," she said when she sat down with her coffee. "So, I'm guessing this dressing up thing is not something you plan to stop doing if we are together?"

I looked down at my coffee. I'd never really thought about what I'd do if I fell in love and got married. I guess I just figured I wouldn't be able to dress anymore. Or at least, not openly.

"I haven't really thought about that," I admitted. "I guess if I have to..."

"I'm not saying you have to, Sammy. I'm trying to get an idea of what your idea about it is."

"I'd like it if I could still dress up now and then," I told her. "It makes me feel good. I could do it when you're not at home."

She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. "Sammy, I don't want you to feel like you have to hide it from me," she said gently. "I want you to be able to relax and not worry about me walking in on you."

I nodded. "That would be nice," I said. "But you fell in love with a man who dresses like a man, not man who dresses like a woman."

She squeezed my arm. "I fell in love with you, Sammy. You dressing like a woman is part of who you are. So, here's what we're going to do. Last night we got the answer to the question are you gay. Now the question is how I will feel when I see you dressed. So you're going to go take a shower and when you get out you're going to get dressed up pretty for me."

"I don't know, Martha," I said. "I've never dressed up in front of anyone. I mean, I feel sexy and feminine when I'm dressed up, but you might think I look silly."

"I might," she agreed "Or I might think you look sexy and feminine." She stood and came stand beside me. She put her arm around me and hugged me from the back, pressing her bare tits into my shoulders. "Do it for me. Please?"

"You promise not to laugh at me?" I asked quietly.

"I promise," she said.

So I did. I showered using my lavender scented soap. I ran my feminine razor over my legs, underarms and chest. I used my electric razor on my face. After my shower I used scented lotion on my legs, chest and arms. I stood in front of the mirror and used a blow dryer to try to give myself a fairly feminine hair style.

After some thought I chose a pink bra b-cup bra with lace cups and a pair of pink full brief girdle-panties. The panties would hold my boy-parts in place. To make my crotch even smoother I put a medium use pad in the panties. Over the panties I put on suntan sheer-to-waist pantyhose. I pushed the foam rubber inserts I'd ordered from JC Penney into the cups and adjusted my 'boobs' to make sure they were positioned right on my chest.

I went to the closet and picked a casual soft cotton dress that pulled over my head. An elastic band separated the top part from the skirt. The top was light pink with darker pink and red strips in a swirl around my chest. It was sleeveless and scoop necked. The skirt was solid pink that matched the dark pink stripes in the top. It reached to just above my knees and flowed nicely around my legs when I walked. It was, in my opinion, the most feminine dress I owned.

I pushed my feet into a pair of low heeled black pumps. I put on a pair of my dangly clip-on earrings. I stood in front of the mirror and finger-fluffed my hair and put some light red lipstick on.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror on the back of the door and sighed. The last time I was dressed exactly this way I saw a beautiful, sexy woman looking back at me. This time I felt masculine and ugly.

I took a deep breath and went back to the kitchen/living area to face Martha.

"Oh, Sam.... Samantha!" she smiled when she heard me and looked up. "You look beautiful!"

She was sitting on the couch. She stood when I came in. She'd put her blouse and skirt back on. I noticed her bra, hose and panties folded neatly on the end of the couch. I stood in front of her.

"Please call me Margaret," I said softly, looking down at her feet to avoid her eyes.

"Margaret," she said softly. "Look at me."

I looked up and met her gaze. I saw a smiled on her face. Not a laughing smile. Not a mocking smile. A genuine smiled.

"I think Margaret fits you," she said softly. "And whatever I call you, you look beautiful. I love that dress!"

"Thank you," I blushed. "I... I feel pretty in this dress," I said, almost whispering. "That's why I picked it for now."

Martha stood in front of me and put her hands on my upper arms. "You are pretty in that dress," she said. "How about we have a glass of wine and sit and talk. I want to know everything you're feeling right now."

She pulled me to the couch and we sat. She'd already put the bottle of wine and two glasses on the end table. I sat down and crossed my legs as I accepted a glass from her.

It turned out that Martha was not only able to accept me as Margaret, she actually liked me as Margaret. We talked about clothes and did some on-line 'window shopping' on my laptop computer. We talked until late afternoon.

"OK," Martha said. "I'm still all stinky from last night. I need to go home and clean up and get clean clothes and come back."

"Please don't go home," I said. "You can clean up here. You can wear one of my dresses. Or I even have some women's t-shirts and shorts if you'd rather not wear a dress."

"What about panties?" she asked. "I really can't wear the panties from yesterday. They're uh, kind of, uh... crusty."

"I bet," I giggled. "You can wear a pair of my panties. I have full briefs, bikini briefs and thongs. Size 9."

"Thongs? I don't even own any thongs," Martha laughed. "But that is the right size."

"Well, if you want to try them out you can," I offered.

We stood up and she put her arms around my neck. "Would it turn you on if I wore thong panties?" she asked.

"Yes, definitely," I smiled.

"Ok. Thongs it is, then. I'm going to get in the shower and let you pick out which dress and panties you want me to wear," she said. She kissed me on the lips and turned to head to the bathroom.

"No bra?" I asked.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Do you really want me to wear one?" she asked.

I nodded. "No bra. I'll lay out some panties and a dress."

That night marked the beginning of our life together. A few days later we moved all of Martha's things from the dorm room to my... our apartment. We spent the next 40 years sharing everything.

"Do you want some more coffee, daddy?" Crystal asked.

"Uh, sure, honey," I said, a little embarrassed I'd been so lost in my thoughts.

"Yvonne can show us around Green Lake Estates tomorrow morning," Madison said as she walked back into the room. "Are you okay with that, daddy?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess," I said as I watched Crystal pour more coffee in my cup.

Madison sat down beside me and put her hand on my arm. "Daddy, we're just going to look. To see what you think. We're not going to sign any papers. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."