His wife finds phonesex bill, makes him do it with pool guy

I’ve always been a pretty good basketball player. Granted I’m small, only five foot six inches tall, and I’m pretty frail, but I’ve used that as a motivational tool. As a child I was often picked on and bullied, so I ended up playing by myself an awful lot. Since I could never hope to dunk or fly through the air in a act of magnificent athleticism, I concentrated on my shot and my dribble. Over the years, I developed quite a deadly outside shot, and my range is fairly prolific. I like to think that when my game is on I can drop my shot from just about anywhere on the court during a half court set. I played a little ball in college, and even made it up to first team my senior year, winning the conference sixth man award for my ability to come off the bench at crucial moments and drain a three from way out in the corner. Still I never maintained any illusions that I could play pro ball, my frail frame (at my heaviest, I only weigh about 120 lb.) and short stature made sure that I would be all but forgotten at draft time. With this in mind I used my skills for what they could get me, an undergraduate degree in computer engineering and then enough local fame to translate this degree into a position as a software engineer for a state company, and a beautiful if bitchy wife who stands about six inches taller than me. I would say the game treated me well enough and I have always been happy with my success. My basketball prowess is pretty much limited now to pickup games I play at the local Y. Yes I am still routinely passed over in picking teams, at least until people get to know me.

Along with my public prowess on the court, I have another more secret past time I like to pursue. You see, when I was a little boy, my step-sister use to dress me up in her clothes as a means of punishing and humiliating me. Even after I grew and began to play high school ball, my step-sister maintained a psychological grip on me. Though always bigger than me, I suppose I didn’t have to go along with her demands. After all I stood up to power forwards all the time on the court, I certainly could have stood up to her. the fact is I didn’t. She knew exactly the way to talk to me, to embarrass me, to threaten me in a way that would make me do what she wanted. And what she wanted were usually small things. She made me wear a g-string panty under my gym shorts to the state high school championship game. She said she did it so that even if I hit the game winning shot I would still be able to feel that string of tight nylon scraping against my hole, I would know that I was just her little bitch.

The power of childhood conditioning is enormous. When my step-sister died in a car accident my freshman year in college (she was drunk at the wheel) my first reaction was to finally feel free of her torment. But as time passed, as I was no longer “forced” to dress as a girl by my step-sister, I found I was just as mentally compelled to do so as if my step-sister were still alive taunting me and threatening to expose me to the town paper with pictures she had taken. I got an erotic charge out of dressing up, and through collage, I began to collect different articles of female clothing. As I grew up poor, my college dormitory was the only safe haven I had. I often had close calls, when I would just manage to pull a sweatshirt over my head covering up the black lacy training bra I was wearing as my room mate entered the room.

Still I never was caught, and in my mind, my fetish was a harmless enough diversion. On Halloweens I would often dress as a girl and go to school parties. In these atmospheres, my deviant behavior was viewed as normal college fun, and sometimes I could even manage to dance with a few of the guys on my basketball team. I acted for all I was worth like the team clown, and they were happy to play along, thinking all the while that I was just goofing around – joking. Little did they know ho much time I would spend styling my shoulder length blond hair, applying eye liner just so, and picking out the perfect dress to compliment my nearly hairless, lithe young body, to look good for them.