The D Chronicles Vol 1 - (Men): Drag

AJ Mclean in Drag c/o tylershields.com 2012.

Drag

Upton Barnard was a man without disclosure. He lived his life with the firm belief that he had everything to hide. Because of this belief Upton Barnard worked very hard at resigning himself to accept most situations in life. Including those that he couldn’t tell anyone about until Saturday night at 10:15 when there was nothing to do but share…

All night the “untold” lay there between them.  Just as he released himself with Celia for the third time he was ready to say it. He could see it happening in his mind before she wrapped her lips around him and looked into his eyes that third time but he wasn’t ready.

Like most men, Upton Barnard had a dirty little secret. Although it wasn’t a traditional skeleton that he kept tightly in his closet. Nope. This was a whopper and he hadn’t been able to tell anyone until now.

Completely unarmed lying next to Celia, Upton let the words rest on the tip of his tongue for release. 

“I have a secret.” And it was that simple that the words came out. Gently Celia placed her hands upon his head to encourage and he smiled. Celia knew that quite often men let themselves go after spending a moment with her and hoped for something different when she asked him to tell her a fantasy. But this was so much better when he said it. She knew that wanted to say more and give her his trust but that’s where it stopped as he took another drag off his cigarette.

“Tell me what it is,” she says. “There’s nothing I won’t do for you. Remember this is the last place for judgment. Especially with me.”

And he knew that she meant it  when she said it. Until this moment with Celia everything had always been a lie. An accepted condition because he couldn’t share the one thing he wanted most. Lie after lie continued because that’s what happens when you build around a falsehood. A lie can’t hold up on it’s on and needs to be surrounds by dozens and dozens to survive.

Somewhere between her hand touching his face and her mouth on his chest out it came in a whisper. With a slight grin Celia nods her head and rises to match his stare. Never moving her hand she stares into Upton’s hazel eyes. When she leans into him further his eyes turn blue with a flash of light. The fear in his eyes indicates for her to slowly approach this and she presses on his cheek. Celia knows what to do next.

She tells him, “I’ve got exactly what you need and it will suit you just fine.” And for the first time since he could remember he felt a sense of relief.

Upton Barnard was always fond of lingerie, particularly lace and garter belts. Especially on women with long legs. Now a woman’s height had little to do with her length of legs. Some of his most favorite women were petite with an amazing pair of stems attached to them. But on Celia who was anything but small or petite, the lace and garters always managed to remind him of how much he wanted to…

“Wear them?” she rambled on behind him in the boudoir. Somehow his mind wandered and she continued to talk. Before he could beg pardon she said it again. “Do you know how to wear them?”

Upton hadn’t done this in years, but he nodded and clasped the garter right along his thigh. The feel of the silk stockings on his thighs was absolutely divine. When he turned to face Celia the reality set in. And it aroused him further the way she almost matched him in size, color and shape. Her hands reached around his waist to slip in and secure the black lace panties. The snugness of the fit was accentuated the touch of her hands on his ass. He’d hardly been in them long enough to enjoy when she started to shift him. With a slight giggle Celia stopped and moved her hands up to his chest. The satin straps of the lace bra untwisted beneath her touch. When she pressed against him he could almost feel himself growing with excitement.

“Tell me about the…” Upton begged.

“You want to know about these.” Celia says while snapping his bra strap and letting the lace cups of her bra rest on his bare arm. “Paris. Silk. Lace.”

“Amazing. More.”

“Your turn. Tell me about you…”

Finding it impossible to hold back any longer, Upton walked across the room and told her that it wasn’t always like this. And he wasn’t. Upton didn’t do this sort of thing. Most certainly not in front of someone else.

“The lace is heaven. I always loved it on you, but against my own skin it’s quite intoxicating. And this… I did this once or twice as a young man and on occasion when an ex- girlfriend wasn’t in town but I’ve never been…”

“You’ve never shared this?”

“No.”

Upton could tell that Celia loved that he hadn’t shared his secret with anyone else. It wasn’t about her when he opened up. Celia told him how exciting his fantasy was as he slid down her silk stockings.  When her hands were on his thighs she told him that his fantasy was anything but a secret. And it meant so much more to him now that it was revealed to her. Upton thoroughly enjoyed Celia unhooking his garters and touching him in the lace while telling him about her fantasy that didn’t involve any more than a newspaper and some honey. For the first time in his undisclosed life Upton Barnard found a situation where nothing was to be resigned and everything was accepted. And all he had to do was reveal a little more.

Drag. Have you ever been in drag? Ladies or Fellows? Oh I know a few... And I’ll never tell. Kisses. Well, I’ve been in drag but never dressed as a man. Maybe someday. Why not. Crazy? Perhaps… But where’s your sense of adventure? Anyway… This one had me thinking about fetishes and fantasies. And talking to people about such things. Now there’s a lot of judgment out in the world. A lot. I’m told… It can’t possibly be helped. Really? Honestly it really can be helped. And my thoughts on this are… it’s not a bad thing as long as other people don’t know. The one thing people agree upon is that once others know about it, then it becomes a bad thing.  Think about it. If that judgment isn’t there, what happens in your bedroom happens in YOUR BEDROOM. It doesn’t matter what it is between you and yours. If it’s what gets you going, then consenting adults shouldn’t worry what other people think. There’s nothing to hide, but not everything is meant to be a public affair. Anyway, hope your weekend was amazing. Mine? Regrouped. Necessary. Enjoy. Kisses. m.

There...

There goes the Groom... (Here Comes The Bride)

(2-3-10)

Here comes the bride. Down the aisle. Dressed in yards and yards of white brilliance. All are standing with their full attention in the direction of the beauty making her way toward the altar. Her future. An ideal future filled with hope, promise and the unknown yet to come. The wedding party awaiting the final member to complete the centerpiece. Bridesmaids stand in a line. Pretty little teacup princesses in gossamer gowns. Opposing them are half a dozen groomsmen led off by the dashing groom. The picture perfect story book wedding about to become a real life fairy tale.

Every bride has her day; Carlotta was no exception to that rule. In fact, she was one of the few brides that had earned her title of Bridezilla. Stamping her feet over every little detail and leaving no person unscathed. In addition to three wedding planners, one of whom was fired, she micromanaged everything up to the end. “Mom! She’s ruining my day! How can you let her forget the Baby Blue Tea Lights for the reception tables? Those were my keepsake gifts,” and the tirade continues as her mother helps her into the car. White Armani-replicated overflowing excess is yanked inward by Bridezilla who is overreacting about her sister’s negligence. Little did she know that Baby Blue Tea Lanterns would be the least of her worries? In fact one could say the bad karma was what sent things unraveling.

An exquisite outdoor wedding set among the Emperor’s Rose Garden. Daylight colors hit a late afternoon grandeur as the ceremony begins. Relatives and friends look upon the beautiful couple about to take the wonderful journey of life together. A commitment of happiness to be cherished then photographed and recorded for posterity. And what would the world be like if the beautiful bride didn’t have an opinion about matters? “Damn it if I’m not getting the most I can out of this dress!” says the bride. “We’ll, use and reuse those photos and that footage! Copy and distribute those DVDs at birthdays and holidays! Who doesn’t love a wedding?” Some people really don’t enjoy them, as the guests will attest to that today.

Without skipping a beat the ceremony progresses on. The minister takes a moment to thank the lovely gathering of people for sharing the joy. Among those seated are the dearest loved ones to the uniting pair. Moms are tearing up and Dads are comforting with gentle hand pats. Aunts and Uncles respectfully nodding their heads as the minister leads a prayer. Row by row mostly familiar faces. Best friends. Cousins. College Roommates. Beautiful blonde woman sits six rows back loading a double barrel shotgun. Despite the most precise instructions the ushers neglected to keep the event an invitation only affair. Only the handpicked elite of friends and relatives were to be permitted entrance. Somehow the ushers decided that their post needed some refreshments and soon enough a keg was brought out to the guest entrance. Mistakenly two ex-boyfriends and a bitter sister-in-law managed to sneak through. But those were the least of Carlotta’s problems. She had barely acquainted herself with Beau’s family and was so smitten with idea of marriage that she hadn’t bothered to really check up on his past. A past that could sneak past the ushers without an invitation and remain seated until just the right moment.

There’s a part in the ceremony where the minister says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” That’s exactly the point where she came in. “Get yer hands off my man!” Standing up in her seat. Screaming at the heavens with her shotgun in both hands. Laura Price. Ex-beauty queen. Playboy Centerfold. Definitely one of the most beautiful women in the world. And Carlotta was about to marry her true love. That couldn’t happen. Hell or high water. It had to be stopped. Faces twist and bodies spin around as the gun releases its first round of deadly intent. Three bridesmaids down for the price of one. Groomsmen fearfully disperse with panic. Immediately the bulk of the crowd scatters with screams of distress. Carefully the blonde bombshell edges nearer to the altar. Every inch growing closer to her target. The Bride.

The ceremony is over. What’s left of the wedding party soon begins to charge the remaining guests, who in turn push against each other in a state of panic. Over topples the sixteen tiered diamond encrusted white chocolate wedding cake as the chaos erupts. Fighting ensues. Guests vs. Ushers vs. Bridesmaids vs. Groomsmen vs. Anyone left standing. As soon as the minister got his clock cleaned via the maid of honor the festivities were definitely headed south for good. Aside from the gun-toting maniac, it’s a free-for-all among the masses in the Emperor’s Rose Garden. All the while Laura is menacingly headed toward the altar with a one-track mind. Amidst the anarchy she continues to take aim, fire and reload. Somewhere along the lines Carlotta has armed herself with a candelabra while Beau seeks refuge behind the tiny pedestal. “This bitch thinks she can just come in here, ruin my wedding and get away with it. To hell with that! Let me at her!”

Sirens echo in the distance. Reinforcements. Beau reaches up to beg his soon-to-be bride to lay low until the police arrive. Bridezilla shakes him off with the kick of her heels and tears away the excess layers of her knockoff gown. Bare knees and bare feet she prepares for combat. Climbing down from the platform she makes her way toward the Centerfold Queen. Like two bulls charging each other in an arena these heavenly beasts seek to do battle. 5-4-3-2-1, Impact. Conflict commences. Metal Candelabra swings making contact. Gun fires. Point blank range should do quite a bit of damage. In fact the White Armani-replica should have a coffee-can sized hole in it. But that’s only if you hit the right target. In that instance the shot should have stopped the two from trying to rip each other apart. But it didn’t. Out of ammo the Playmate is now using the gun in hand-to-hand combat with the skill of a caveman. Each woman trading blows in a barbaric ritual of death.

Across the lawn the fallen are spread out like bleeding soldiers. Upon the platform among the capsized bouquets of white rose-lily hybrids lays the black and white colors of a sharply tailored tuxedo. Snaking through the monochromatic brilliance is a red river carrying life away from its host. The body is discovered as police begin rounding up the survivors and clearing out the grounds. “There’s a man down! Over here!” Closer examination reveals the insides and outsides of the man through an oversized hole.  “Have you ever seen anything like that?” An open cavity that leaves little to the imagination. “Do you suppose you could put a hand through it?” Hushes and whispers grow as the crowd thickens around good ol Beau. There goes the groom.

Oblivious to the downed groom, the violent Barbie dolls have beaten each other to a pulp. The bloody gladiator style beat down continues until there’s nothing left. Police separate the disfigured pair. The fight is over. The groom is dead. It’s apparent no woman is the winner. Bridezilla and the Centerfold are cuffed and carried away. The Bride Monster will face a good 6-8 years for the attempted murder of the Beauty Queen Centerfold. In turn, the gun-wielding Centerfold will spend the next 25 years to life behind bars for the murder of her so-called true love. It was supposed to be the perfect day. Perfect. Every detail planned down to the tee except for the curve in the road. How dreamy is that idea of a marriage without a groom? It was definitely a wedding for the story books. So much for the picture perfect wedding and happily ever after.

Love. In the end that's all there really is... isn't there. Today is grand. I am attending a wedding at some point today.  It will not be like this! This was from the few back in February that revolved around that fun little four letter word. That was a mouthful! But it all comes back to it in the end. You can lie to yourself and despise it, but you know you're miserable without it. Everyone is. Soon enough it finds you again. Be patient and don't worry about looking for it. And while not everyone may want to get married once we've gotten someone... in the end of it all we want is  somebody to love.  kisses for someone you love. kisses for anyone all alone. you are loved and never alone. promise. kisses for everyone. enjoy if you've never read it. m.

There...

There Goes the Groom... (Here Comes The Bride)

Here comes the bride. Down the aisle. Dressed in yards and yards of white brilliance. All are standing with their full attention in the direction of the beauty making her way toward the altar. Her future. An ideal future filled with hope, promise and the unknown yet to come. The wedding party awaiting the final member to complete the centerpiece. Bridesmaids stand in a line. Pretty little teacup princesses in gossamer gowns. Opposing them are half a dozen groomsmen led off by the dashing groom. The picture perfect story book wedding about to become a real life fairy tale.

Every bride has her day; Carlotta was no exception to that rule. In fact, she was one of the few brides that had earned her title of Bridezilla. Stamping her feet over every little detail and leaving no person unscathed. In addition to three wedding planners, one of whom was fired, she micromanaged everything up to the end. “Mom! She’s ruining my day! How can you let her forget the Baby Blue Tea Lights for the reception tables? Those were my keepsake gifts,” and the tirade continues as her mother helps her into the car. White Armani-replicated overflowing excess is yanked inward by Bridezilla who is overreacting about her sister’s negligence. Little did she know that Baby Blue Tea Lanterns would be the least of her worries? In fact one could say the bad karma was what sent things unraveling.

An exquisite outdoor wedding set among the Emperor’s Rose Garden. Daylight colors hit a late afternoon grandeur as the ceremony begins. Relatives and friends look upon the beautiful couple about to take the wonderful journey of life together. A commitment of happiness to be cherished then photographed and recorded for posterity. And what would the world be like if the beautiful bride didn’t have an opinion about matters? “Damn it if I’m not getting the most I can out of this dress!” says the bride. “We’ll, use and reuse those photos and that footage! Copy and distribute those DVDs at birthdays and holidays! Who doesn’t love a wedding?” Some people really don’t enjoy them, as the guests will attest to that today.

Without skipping a beat the ceremony progresses on. The minister takes a moment to thank the lovely gathering of people for sharing the joy. Among those seated are the dearest loved ones to the uniting pair. Moms are tearing up and Dads are comforting with gentle hand pats. Aunts and Uncles respectfully nodding their heads as the minister leads a prayer. Row by row mostly familiar faces. Best friends. Cousins. College Roommates. Beautiful blonde woman sits six rows back loading a double barrel shotgun. Despite the most precise instructions the ushers neglected to keep the event an invitation only affair. Only the handpicked elite of friends and relatives were to be permitted entrance. Somehow the ushers decided that their post needed some refreshments and soon enough a keg was brought out to the guest entrance. Mistakenly two ex-boyfriends and a bitter sister-in-law managed to sneak through. But those were the least of Carlotta’s problems. She had barely acquainted herself with Beau’s family and was so smitten with idea of marriage that she hadn’t bothered to really check up on his past. A past that could sneak past the ushers without an invitation and remain seated until just the right moment.

There’s a part in the ceremony where the minister says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” That’s exactly the point where she came in. “Get yer hands off my man!” Standing up in her seat. Screaming at the heavens with her shotgun in both hands. Laura Price. Ex-beauty queen. Playboy Centerfold. Definitely one of the most beautiful women in the world. And Carlotta was about to marry her true love. That couldn’t happen. Hell or high water. It had to be stopped. Faces twist and bodies spin around as the gun releases its first round of deadly intent. Three bridesmaids down for the price of one. Groomsmen fearfully disperse with panic. Immediately the bulk of the crowd scatters with screams of distress. Carefully the blonde bombshell edges nearer to the altar. Every inch growing closer to her target. The Bride.

The ceremony is over. What’s left of the wedding party soon begins to charge the remaining guests, who in turn push against each other in a state of panic. Over topples the sixteen tiered diamond encrusted white chocolate wedding cake as the chaos erupts. Fighting ensues. Guests vs. Ushers vs. Bridesmaids vs. Groomsmen vs. Anyone left standing. As soon as the minister got his clock cleaned via the maid of honor the festivities were definitely headed south for good. Aside from the gun-toting maniac, it’s a free-for-all among the masses in the Emperor’s Rose Garden. All the while Laura is menacingly headed toward the altar with a one-track mind. Amidst the anarchy she continues to take aim, fire and reload. Somewhere along the lines Carlotta has armed herself with a candelabra while Beau seeks refuge behind the tiny pedestal. “This bitch thinks she can just come in here, ruin my wedding and get away with it. To hell with that! Let me at her!”

Sirens echo in the distance. Reinforcements. Beau reaches up to beg his soon-to-be bride to lay low until the police arrive. Bridezilla shakes him off with the kick of her heels and tears away the excess layers of her knockoff gown. Bare knees and bare feet she prepares for combat. Climbing down from the platform she makes her way toward the Centerfold Queen. Like two bulls charging each other in an arena these heavenly beasts seek to do battle. 5-4-3-2-1, Impact. Conflict commences. Metal Candelabra swings making contact. Gun fires. Point blank range should do quite a bit of damage. In fact the White Armani-replica should have a coffee-can sized hole in it. But that’s only if you hit the right target. In that instance the shot should have stopped the two from trying to rip each other apart. But it didn’t. Out of ammo the Playmate is now using the gun in hand-to-hand combat with the skill of a caveman. Each woman trading blows in a barbaric ritual of death.

Across the lawn the fallen are spread out like bleeding soldiers. Upon the platform among the capsized bouquets of white rose-lily hybrids lays the black and white colors of a sharply tailored tuxedo. Snaking through the monochromatic brilliance is a red river carrying life away from its host. The body is discovered as police begin rounding up the survivors and clearing out the grounds. “There’s a man down! Over here!” Closer examination reveals the insides and outsides of the man through an oversized hole.  “Have you ever seen anything like that?” An open cavity that leaves little to the imagination. “Do you suppose you could put a hand through it?” Hushes and whispers grow as the crowd thickens around good ol Beau. There goes the groom.

Oblivious to the downed groom, the violent Barbie dolls have beaten each other to a pulp. The bloody gladiator style beat down continues until there’s nothing left. Police separate the disfigured pair. The fight is over. The groom is dead. It’s apparent no woman is the winner. Bridezilla and the Centerfold are cuffed and carried away. The Bride Monster will face a good 6-8 years for the attempted murder of the Beauty Queen Centerfold. In turn, the gun-wielding Centerfold will spend the next 25 years to life behind bars for the murder of her so-called true love. It was supposed to be the perfect day. Perfect. Every detail planned down to the tee except for the curve in the road. How dreamy is that idea of a marriage without a groom? It was definitely a wedding for the story books. So much for the picture perfect wedding and happily ever after.

Ok. Ok. Another love one? Haha. But I’m not sure this is about love though. What do you think? Loaded question. I’d been playing with the idea of a wedding one for a while. Since I was on a roll with the ‘love’ business I figured I would just throw it out there now rather than let it sneak up later. There are a few more things in the realm of love and things of that sort, but nothing like you’d think. I wasn’t planning on any of these for the month. Actually I made a list and haven’t used it yet. So far it’s been just as much of a surprise for me… Anyhow, I hope y’all like this. It was a lil bit of fun to create. Enjoy? kisses. m.