He must have been in his mid-thirties. His face was rugged, and his hair was unkempt. His clothing was clean, but it looked worn. I guess he must have...been a manual labourer of some kind, perhaps a farmer. His hands confirmed my theory; they looked rough and strong. I smiled back briefly and said hello in return before turning my attention back to my meal.I was nineteen at the time, very much unaware of the world of cross-dressing. All I knew was that I had always had a penchant for dressing up. I was already fully erect.Not surprisingly, she was bundled up, even though the weather was warm: A woolen yellow shirt, obviously backed up by a bra, was trying (and failing spectacularly) to conceal her large, young breasts, while the silky-smooth legs I had lain between on so many glorious occasions were almost totally hidden behind a plaid, black-and-white ankle-length skirt. But she was also wearing high heels of the same hue as her blouse, which made me grin: For all her protestations,. More

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