There used to be a transvestite

who lived in the flats opposite my house. Every Saturday and Sunday morning he'd be there, dressed in his nightie and wig, leaning on his windowsill staring out into oblivion. I must admit I used to get some kind of perverse pleasure out of...well...simply watching him.

Fair play to him though, he had blonde, brunette, and redhead wigs. Not only that, he actually had wigs in these colours of all different lengths so one week he had the just above shoulder length wig on, then a couple of weeks later he'd have the shoulder length one and so on. He took the art of tranny-ing to a whole new level in our neighbourhood and raised it up a notch which I give him full credit for.

Anyway, he moved away about 5 years ago and recently I was off for a night out and ordered a taxi. Who should the taxi driver end up to be???...yep, it was the tranny guy. Just as we were leaving my street he said "I used to live in one of the flats just round the corner", I had to stop myself saying "Yep, I remember you mate, you were the hairy geezer I used to see at the weekends in the frilly gown".

Like I say, his clothes were good, his makeup wasn't too bad and his hair was always in prime condition. The only thing that worries me is the fact that his chest hair and his moustache were the things that turned me on the most.

Apologies for length, but I bet he wished he hadn't been born with any at all
(Lt Columbo, Mon 21 Aug 2006, 0:37, Reply)