Some things are destined to happen. They can happen either by accident or a force of nature. I'm told that water will reach its own level. I know a person who reached theirs. That person is me. This is my story about how I found myself belonging to a real man.
I was walking beside my man. His confident stride made it a chore for me to keep with him. It could have been the raised sandals he had me buy. "Look, robin," he smiled convincingly. "They accentuate your shapely legs at the same time they make your prominent ass look sexy."
My prominent bottom was on full display. Even under the wrap he had me buy; my bottom was not really covered. Like most of what Peter had me buy, it was made for one purpose. He wanted people to see his sissy in my best form. I didn't know it then. I would soon learn it though.
I'll tell you how he turned me out after I finish describing my outfit. Peter had me buy a scandalous white thong bathing suit. It fit so snug that the back strap disappeared between my round buttocks. My bottom looked naked. He insisted I purchase a cute crop top that went just below my titties. It was so wide at the collar, it left one or both of my narrow shoulders exposed and had very short sleeves.
The wrap I mentioned was worn like a skirt. So transparent, it left nothing to the imagination.
My hair, blonde and shoulder length hung below the floppy straw hat he bought me. With the over-sized sunglasses, he also bought, Peter said I looked like Tiger Woods most recent ex-girlfriend.
I'd been Peter's intern at his law offices in Boston. the summer before attending my final year in Law School. He taught me so much about people. Being a defense attorney, Peter made me understand the minds of those involved in a case. Not just the client, but those who would prosecute them and the witnesses as well; both for the prosecution and defense. "Everyone has their own agenda, robin," he explained. "Once you know what they are really after, you can turn that into an asset."
I loved working there. Peter was such a handsome and kind man. He towered over my 5'4 1/2" height. Standing at 6', Peter was in great shape, always spending his early mornings at the gym before coming to the office.
When I first showed up, he was surprised. "I thought you, um, well this is a surprise."
"You thought I was a woman?" I asked.
"I didn't know people named their sons robin anymore," said while giving me the once over.
I passed his visual exam.
We worked closely together at times and Peter always was a bit handsy. Had I been a woman, I could have accused him of sexual harassment if not assault. Many times his hand would accidently touch, grab, or squeeze my large bottom. He'd excuse himself but always Peter seemed to be apologizing for handling my big bottom.
Other times, he'd come up to where I was sitting and rub my shoulders or caress my arms as he explained some detail or other.
But he was charming. Peter had a beautiful smile and wore it often. All that made my internship wonderful. I mean I didn't even mind his handsy ways. And when he suggested I let my hair grow, I let it grow.
I knew he was seeing a few women as some came by near the end of the day or sat through a day in court to watch him perform his magic.
As the summer waned, Peter invited me to join him on Cape Cod. I accepted his invitation. Very soon I found myself in his Bently. Top down, my hair blowing in the wind. Peter drove with one hand on the wheel, the other finding a reason to touch me. My leg, my arm, my face, I was used to his hands on me.
"I love your shorts," robin he said rubbing my thigh. "You've got very pretty legs. Tell me this, did you shave them for me?"
I giggled at his silly question. Placing my hand over his which was rubbing my thigh, I explained that I never had much body hair. "Must be my blonde hair," I submitted. He didn't take his hand away and neither did I.
Peter owned a little frame house in Hyannis Port. "You must know the Kennedys".
"Not a one, baby," he said. "I like keeping my life simple. I don't chase celebs. I see them around but keep my distance."
The cracker box cape house was very nicely furnished. "Peter, where will I sleep? There's only one bedroom and no sofa."
"I know, robin. My bed is a California King. There's room for you."
His back to me, I couldn't tell whether he was kidding or not. "Isn't that kind of gay?"
He turned to look at me. "Gay? Really, robin, I thought you knew by now not to label people. Do you like women? You know I do. Gay? What does that even mean? Why not call it banana or pizza? A label is the way small insecure people make themselves feel better about themselves. Never forget that, robin."
"Lesson learned, Peter," I said going to him and taking his hand in mine. "I'm sorry."
He gently squeezed my hand in his. "It's all good. Let's hit the beach."
"I don't have a swimsuit. I saw stores that advertise them very near here. Can you take me to get one, please?"
"If I do, I get to choose it."
"It's a deal," I smiled.
On the drive to the store, Peter reminded me of verbal contracts and how he would expect me to hold up my end.
That's how I ended up with that tiny thong swimsuit. Against my pale skin, it seemed to blend in as if I was naked in back. Peter insisted I purchase that transparent beach cover up wrap and that cute top.
In the car, Peter surprised me with a floppy hat, and sunglasses.
The hat was nice though. A pink ribbon around the brim, it fit me really well.
