39 M->F Crossdresser. Where to improve my look?

[strokinnoff1]

Try this one

you're stunning!!

 

[Heidi_UK]

I think you've got more than a good chance of charming the pants off any man you want

Thanks but I'm only interested in women

 

[Adrian81]

Thanks but I'm only interested in women

Well the same with women then babe, go blow their minds

 

[Wageslave]

Try this one

Love your dress and makeup

 

[Heidi_UK]

Love your dress and makeup

Thanks! I did a photoshoot

 

[Greekguy1963]

Try this one

Sexy

 

[Greekguy1963]

Upped my game a little bit...

View attachment 2558867

Love it!

 

[LillianDevereux]

How could I improve my look?

HOW DO I LOOK. HOW CAN I IMPROVE: Greetings from Palm Springs. Its early morning and I am at Starbucks on Palm Canyon Drive. ‘Cream Frappuccino Time’ came early and as expected my go to corner is available. I am ready now in sucking the warm cream. Not knowing what you look like, my imagination and thoughts are now trying to see your face, trying to approximate your look, your thoughts and moves.

SOMETHING FOR YOU TO NIBBLE ON: I am a mature and simple all girl submissive for extreme paint and for garments that push up and pull in and wearing shockingly high ankle strapped heels for walking that walk and talking that talk. Your question has me now going back in time to Jheri a former TV/CD lover extraordinaire. When I first met Jheri he was always very particular and loved woman painted and dressed to the max.

I AM AT THE MERCY OF MY NEEDY LIPS. TOUCH ME. LICK ME. USE ME. SHAKE ME LIKE A FLOPPY RAGDOLL…WORDS OF LOVE: My face for Jheri and during many of our escapades was always sculpted through a flawless use of layers of foundation to remove every blemish, every minute crinkle. My lips were like succulent cherries; plump red; sugared maraschinos. For special dates I am more comfortable with face of fetish, with overdrawing my lipline with a thick creamy red lipstick; my eyelids heavily painted with blue mascara and then applying a pair of long theatrical lashes, shaping an oriental uplift, a face abstracted from time and place -- and long on fantasy. Sometimes I shape my mood to fit my look; other times I shape my look to fit my mood.

DARLING, I SAVOR THE SCENT OF YOUR CHANEL. I INHALE DEEPLY UNTIL I AM DRUNK AND GIDDY WITH THE ODOR OF YOU: Princess Marcella Borghese is my patron saint; Chanel is right up there, too, in the pantheon of goddesses of paint. Chanel makes the ultimate reds: reds that grip my lips and rim my mouth with sex, mouthing oral fantasies with every pout; with every lick; with every suck. Their are certain reds so deep in saturation that they are almost death black; aborigines so exquisitely dense that my lips take on a life of their own, opening and closing like a grouper in heat, lisping 'suck my color', 'eat my mouth'…

For all of my dates I paint for perfection. Often I apply my ivory foundation with a moist sponge wedge. A white cream shadow from my lids to my brows, with a smudged line of deep blue kohl delineating the creases of my eyelids. A double set of lashes. A thick coat of lipstick covers my darkly lined lips. I brush a layer of pink gloss over my red lips. Translucent powder sets my foundation and then a fine mist of cool water to set the powder. Perfection takes time, but it is sensual time well spent. I lavishly spray my neck, shoulders and breasts with Coco and feel myself begin to dissolve just a small bit in the excess of the perfume that rushes to my head like a designer drug.

LADIES ON CALL: As I sit here writing this snippet of moist remembrances, Jheri still travels with the rush of my blood and filling my body with his/her taste and her Gucci perfume. In the evenings we always went dancing to Scotts, a TV bar in the Tenderloin -- many of the men and woman of the neighborhood meet there to satisfy their hunger. A place heavy with perfumed chatter, guests wearing shiny clinging fabrics, leather gloves, textured hose, spike heels, and they welcome you with a heavy wash of perfumed suggestions -- and are pulled to this hole-in-the-wall by the lure of painted boy/girl fantasies. The restroom mirror, as I reapplied my lipstick, showed me how hot I looked, even with my face glistening with sweat from the dance floor; even with my hair damp and clinging to my cheeks. But all of this is another story for another day!

https://i.ibb.co/BHLT6g1p/A-Nice-Spread.jpg

 

[Heidi_UK]

BAD GIRLS WORK HARDER: I loved your picture and I can assume you enjoyed pushing my buttons, and I've got to admit that you've done a fine job. There is something about the photo that pulls my memory vividly back to that first of many days with Jheri, more so than any perfect photograph in colour could ever do. Memory is such a fragile creature; it often needs special prompts to coax forward a true rendition of an event.

I LAID BACK ON MY SHEETS, MOISTENING MY LIPS, MY TONGUE TASTING THE COSMETIC RED SHINE OF MY THICKLY PAINTED; WARMY PAINTED LIPS. DARLING I WHISPERED PLEASE TALK DIRTY TO ME: With Jheri, I was content to see myself in a soft and passive mode: I am the bottom; he/she is definitely the top. But right after the Dinner, I am the butch; she is my femme. We shared the same clothes and the same shoes. We shared the same bed and the same sexual appetite. I think of her now and want to lick the makeup from her face; fill my mouth with her Borghese foundation and Chanel eye shadow; suck the Estee Lauder from her lips and filling my pores with her very essence, coating me with the patina of all her excesses.

I AM LACING MYSELF SO TIGHTLY INTO A SUPPLE LEATHER CORSET THAT IT BECOMES MY SECOND SKIN. THIS IS ALL PART OF MY RITUAL. RITUALS ARE A NECESSARY PART OF MY LIFE: When we went out together we were twins in our cold abstraction, although she was over six foot tall and I am only 5'8". Even with the highest heels, I was still her shorter self, but I was part of herself. She had been priming me to be her, her doppelganger. She enjoyed watching people relate to me, her double. She would watch from a distance as a person in the bar would mistake me for her. It delighted her to see their reaction. It was as if she could step outside herself and actually see herself as others saw her.

LOVE WOULD ENTER THE PICTURE BUT MUCH LATER – MONTHS LATER – WHEN ALL OUR GAMES WERE PLAYED OUT: It was an addictive game that we played; symbiotic sensation. Giving myself to her like this--becoming her so perfectly--was even more of a surrender than during our hours of sex. We had the good fortune to be able to explore a lot of our sexually outré obsessions with each other. She was mine; I possessed her. I was hers; she possessed me. When we danced crotch to crotch, sex to sex, our colours ran together. Her fingernails dug deeply into my neck, gouging me with want and promises. We were like bucking and snorting geldings racing wild through desperate nights.

https://i.ibb.co/XZJ9wGzX/Session-Starter.jpg

Well these are interesting responses!

 

[Greekguy1963]

BAD GIRLS WORK HARDER: I loved your picture and I can assume you enjoyed pushing my buttons, and I've got to admit that you've done a fine job. There is something about the photo that pulls my memory vividly back to that first of many days with Jheri, more so than any perfect photograph in colour could ever do. Memory is such a fragile creature; it often needs special prompts to coax forward a true rendition of an event.

I LAID BACK ON MY SHEETS, MOISTENING MY LIPS, MY TONGUE TASTING THE COSMETIC RED SHINE OF MY THICKLY PAINTED; WARMY PAINTED LIPS. DARLING I WHISPERED PLEASE TALK DIRTY TO ME: With Jheri, I was content to see myself in a soft and passive mode: I am the bottom; he/she is definitely the top. But right after the Dinner, I am the butch; she is my femme. We shared the same clothes and the same shoes. We shared the same bed and the same sexual appetite. I think of her now and want to lick the makeup from her face; fill my mouth with her Borghese foundation and Chanel eye shadow; suck the Estee Lauder from her lips and filling my pores with her very essence, coating me with the patina of all her excesses.

I AM LACING MYSELF SO TIGHTLY INTO A SUPPLE LEATHER CORSET THAT IT BECOMES MY SECOND SKIN. THIS IS ALL PART OF MY RITUAL. RITUALS ARE A NECESSARY PART OF MY LIFE: When we went out together we were twins in our cold abstraction, although she was over six foot tall and I am only 5'8". Even with the highest heels, I was still her shorter self, but I was part of herself. She had been priming me to be her, her doppelganger. She enjoyed watching people relate to me, her double. She would watch from a distance as a person in the bar would mistake me for her. It delighted her to see their reaction. It was as if she could step outside herself and actually see herself as others saw her.

LOVE WOULD ENTER THE PICTURE BUT MUCH LATER – MONTHS LATER – WHEN ALL OUR GAMES WERE PLAYED OUT: It was an addictive game that we played; symbiotic sensation. Giving myself to her like this--becoming her so perfectly--was even more of a surrender than during our hours of sex. We had the good fortune to be able to explore a lot of our sexually outré obsessions with each other. She was mine; I possessed her. I was hers; she possessed me. When we danced crotch to crotch, sex to sex, our colours ran together. Her fingernails dug deeply into my neck, gouging me with want and promises. We were like bucking and snorting geldings racing wild through desperate nights.

https://i.ibb.co/XZJ9wGzX/Session-Starter.jpg

Sexy pic

 

[Crossdown]

Thanks! I did a photoshoot

You look amazing, really gorgeous photo of you Heidi

 

[Heidi_UK]

Thank you!