Exposure

By

Julie J.

In my eighteen-year-old sister’s frenzied spring closet management binge she threw out a two-piece bathing suit. I intercepted it before it reached the trash. Now all I needed was a warm enough day to try out the experience of wearing this treasure. That weekend promised to be warmer than usual. On Saturday I called my friend Jim to arrange meeting up at the secluded dugout where we could enjoy a day of cross-dressing. I brought the two-piece bathing suit. Jim brought a pair of red women’s shorts and a crop top. After we dressed we couldn’t help but grin at each other.

“I wonder what other guys would think if they knew about this” I said gesturing at our outfits.

“Let’s hope they don’t find out” was Jim’s reply.

The day was cloudless and getting hotter so we decided to call it quits but agreed to meet up tomorrow same time, same place.

That day started out just like yesterday with one exception there were white fluffy clouds in the sky. I brought my two-piece bathing suit. Jim chose to bring a white halter top and white women’s shorts. I had suggested we bring snacks and towels so we could imagine ourselves lounging somewhere on a sunny Mediterranean beach. We enjoyed the sunshine, each other’s company and most of all the chance to engage in cross-dressing in a secluded setting safe from being discovered. Since it was now somewhat cloudier we remained there for longer before we called it quits and went our separate ways.

Jim’s parting comment was, “If others only knew.”

Friday was gym class. The activity was basketball. Jim and I were picked to be on the same team. The gym teacher pointed to our team and said, “Shirts off.”

My morning routine is to just throw on my clothes then after my sister is finished, go into the bathroom to shave, wash my face and do all the other things one does in a bathroom after getting up. I had no occasion or reason to see my bare chest.

Simultaneously Jim and I grabbed the bottoms of our t-shirts and proceeded to pull them off over our heads. I gasped when I saw Jims ’chest. His skin had darkened where it had been exposed to the sunlight and remained lighter where it had not been exposed. The outline of the halter top was unmistakeable. The other members of the team stared at Jim before turned their eyes to me. My skin colour carried the same kind of unmistakeable evidence of having worn a girl’s two-piece bathing suit. Jim and I was about to have the answer to the question of what would other guys would think if they knew about our hobby. I wasn’t sure I was going to like the answer.