I’m still awaiting the next instalment from Roberta which seems to be as eagerly awaited by many of you too. May I thank you all for your interest, and also for your votes.
In the meantime I have decided to write, in her absence, what I think Roberta, Margaret and John did.
Here is chapter 3A of the The Virgin Tranny and the Bride. Hope you like it.
By the late morning Margaret and I found ourselves posing for John in a clearing in a wood about twenty miles from home. He seemed familiar with the area and quite confident that he could get the car and caravan turned on such a narrow country road.
The journey had been quite an ordeal, especially for Margaret wearing such a short skirt at her husbands’ insistence, the other motorists staring at her as she was sent to pay for the petrol when we stopped for a teasing break. I was in the back seat in my French maids outfit of pink gingham and white lace, an extraordinary sight should anyone look in. I could see myself in the interior mirror and looked incredibly girly, my make up and long blonde hair brushed perfectly by Margaret before we left. We watched as she walked back to the car, her bright red boat neck top displaying her cleavage to all and sundry, her black lycra skirt tight around her and only just long enough to cover her naked pussy by an inch or so and highlighting her long naked legs. The six-inch heels made her progress slower than she would have liked as all eyes were upon her. She looked like a slut and that is exactly what John had wanted her to look like. I looked out at the men in the car at the opposite petrol pump and then watched as Margaret entered the front seat, her skirt once again riding up to her waist.
“Just leave it like that,” John instructed, as a wolf whistle echoed under the canopy of the filling station roof. John was definitely back to his nasty best. I gasped at her predicament but she seemed quite cool, no doubt helped by a few vodka drinks before we left.
“You should have been with me darling, it really is quite a thrill being watched by so many.”
“Maybe you want to go to the toilet Roberta?” he asked on hearing me. “I want to see their faces when you walk over the forecourt in all your frills.”
“No, no thanks, I’m perfectly happy,” I replied most nervously. “We can carry on now.”
He looked at me with a smirk on his face.
“Maids are supposed to do as they are told not give out orders.”
I sat silently hoping he would not insist on me seeking out the ladies toilet. Wearing four short bouffant petticoats of white tulle, lace and net under the pink gingham uniform made me look like a little girl in her party dress, I had said, as we got ready.
“Little girls don’t do the kind of things you will doing darling,” John had replied.
The short uniform didn’t cover the petticoats at all, instead the uniform rather lay on the foundation of gorgeous petticoats and emanated from my waist at an angle of some 90 degrees. My stocking tops and white suspender straps were clearly visible and my pink satin heels made my progress rather wobbly too. I somehow knew he would not send me out in such public view but nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when he started the car.
Soon after we turned off the main road onto a quieter one and after only about a mile pulled into a lay-by.
“Right time for a pee in the bushes,” John announced, looking at me.
“But I don’t need to go,” I replied as two cars flashed past.
“Who said anything about you needing a pee darling? It’s me that needs but I also need my maid there to release and hold my dick and my wife can take a few photographs.”
Another car flashed past as I contemplated getting out, John coaxing me all the time and Margaret assisting as she stepped out with her skirt riding high and her pussy in full view of any passing public. She covered herself up before she was noticed and at the same time as I stepped from the car.