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There was a point in my life when I loved dressing in lacy underwear, applying make-up and parading in front of the full length mirror, admiring my glistening manhood as I walked like a super model, crossing my feet over in my stillettoes as my erection swung from side to side, bouncing off the top of my nylon clad legs. My cock would jump and twitch even more if I produced my camera, taking pictures of my member encased in nylon, silk and satin. I had quite a few pics of myself, and decided to post them on a transvestite friendly site. I wasn’t looking for this to lead anywhere, I was merely putting them on there for other guys to get their rocks off. After a couple of days, the responses to the pictures were all extremely positive, with a lot of guys commenting, ‘I’m not gay, but…’! For future reference, gentlemen, you are looking at another man’s cock! It doesn’t get much gayer than that! Be honest to yourself, for fuck’s sake!
After the positive feedback, I posted a few more of myself, with freshly painted toes, clad in lace topped black hold-ups, peeping through open toed kitten heels! I also posted a couple of pics of my made up face and wig, visible only to ‘friends’. Amazing how many guys want to be your friend when they see a cock surrounded in lovely lingerie! After a couple of days, I waded through the friend requests, and decided on accepting the more interesting ones I came across. I found that I was attracting about a 50-50 percentage of ‘admirers’ and other transvestites. Over the coming weeks I learned to whittle out the picture hunters from those looking for something more. As I said before, I was quite happy for other guys to get off watching me clad in lingerie. Believe me, I loved wearing it, feeling how soft it felt against my skin. My 9 to 5 job was very labour intensive, it kept me at a muscular 220lbs, but this was my own private escapism, a place where I could become effeminate and open up a side to myself I had kept hidden from prying eyes.
Over the next few weeks, I built up some on-line relationships, getting to know quite a few people really well. I was asked quite early on what my female persona was called; I’d never thought of giving myself a girl’s name when I dressed! So I decided on ‘Danica’, and found myself slipping deeper into her as I ventured on-line with her. I even found myself thinking differently as I assumed her personality, becoming flushed with flattery from my male admirers, becoming something of a sister figure to other less experienced transvestites and cross-dressers. By day, I was a big man doing back breaking menial labour, at night, I sat in front of my computer, clad in stockings and suspenders, sporting a huge erection, talking with my ‘regulars’.
There was one person with whom I hit it off straight away, one night as Danica sat there conversing. It was an older transvestite stroke cross-dresser, whom I could see from their profile lived less than an hour away from me. Within a few messages, I accepted them as a friend. I loved the pictures on their profile, their cock in various states of arousal, every picture sporting different lingerie of various colours. I sent a message saying how much I loved their amazing array of underwear, and asked where they had gotten it all from. They replied, (the answer being much duller than I imagined), and they asked me where I lived. I told them where I lived, and they told me that they lived quite close by. Well, I knew this much from their profile pic, but we continued chatting on-line. The conversation turned towards me, asking what I did for a living, how tall was I, what were my turn-ons? I answered truthfully, and the next few exchanges were something of an eye opener to me. It turned out that my transvestite friend was something of a sub, and wanted Danica to be his dirty dom mistress! My already engorged cock jumped upon the perusal of those naughty words. This was something I could never have possibly imagined as I posted those erotic snaps.
I was titilated. Danica took over. She asked what my new friend wanted. The requests came back. Numerous. I couldn’t reply quickly enough. Message after message came through, ending in the line of either Mistress or Goddess. After almost twenty minutes of ever increasing lewdness, I managed to interject the saucy emails and ask if they wanted the real thing or whether they were just looking to jerk off. ‘Oh, the real thing, mistress!’ came the reply. I informed the person on the other end of the computer that I would be available all weekend, and I was happy to accommodate or visit, whichever was their preference. At this point, their on-line presence disappeared; their bluff having been called!
The next night, as I logged on to my favourite site, I could see that my inbox was bristling with incoming mail. I looked through the usual ‘admirers’ section, but came upon message after message of my sub transvestite friend giving personal details of what they looked like, (pics attached), and an email of their home address. My heart jumped. I wasn’t dressed, but I could feel Danica stirring. These emails had been sent in the small hours of the night. I knew there had been some kind of inner conflict going on with this individual. I sat there, reading the message boards and looking through the naughty stories for almost an hour and a half before my friend came on-line. ‘Do you want me to come over on Saturday afternoon and teach you a lesson?’ I sent as soon as he flashed on-screen. ‘Yes, please, mistress!’ My cock stiffened in my underwear. ‘Be ready for 1 o’clock! Make sure you have somewhere for me to dress, slave!’ They replied, indicating that whatever I needed would be readily available. The rest of the week went by in a blur, because at work, I was wandering around permanently semi-aroused!
I awoke mid morning on the Saturday, showered and shaved myself, then decided on what Danica would be wearing. Seeing as she was going to be totally dominant, she had to be business-like, and black was going to be the order of the day. I packed up Danica’s clothing and make-up, put it into a carrier bag, had a light breakfast, and about half past eleven clambered into my car and set off for my predetermined destination. There were many times on that journey where I almost turned the vehicle around, wondering what the Hell I was doing! But every time I had my doubts, I could hear Danica whispering into my ear, telling me that it was now or never!
I arrived about forty minutes before the arranged meeting time, so I parked up and took a walk around this particular part of town. There was an urban bleakness to it, freshly painted signage trying to disguise the years of neglect to this housing estate, boarded up houses and discarded police tape fluttering in the early afternoon breeze. After sampling the visual delights of the estate, I rapped at the door of my intended meeting, a few minutes ahead of our designated time. The door partially opened, and a small guy wearing an ill-fitting wig and poorly applied make-up, answered, and upon seeing me in my male persona looked rather shocked. I felt Danica come to life. ‘I hope you have somewhere for Danica to change, slave!’ I deeply barked. ‘Oh.. y-yes, mistress! P-please, come in!’ he stammered. He opened the door wider to allow me in, and I saw he was adorned in a flowery bra and brief set, covered in a light blue negligee. I entered and slammed the door behind me. No going back now, you are going to have to see this through!
‘Well..?’ I assertively asked. ‘Oh, please! Through here..!’ he nervously ushered me to the ground floor flat’s one and only bedroom. He was about to shut the bedroom door behind me, when I pointed out to him that the bedroom curtains were still open. I could feel his embarrassment as he went to the windows and quickly drew the curtains, his head facing the floor as he pulled the door behind him. I looked around at a gender neutral room, a double bed against one wall, a Victorian dresser with a triple mirror pushed up against the opposite wall, and a large oak wardrobe pressed flush to the far wall. I opened up the wardrobe and delighted in the gorgeous outfits that were neatly hung up on their hangers, but unfortunately, far too small to fit my big frame! I heard music coming from the living area next door. ‘Would you like a drink, M-mistress?’ If ever I needed a drink, now was the time! ‘Do you have whiskey?’ I enquired. ‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘A glass, please. Neat. No ice or water.’ I heard him shuffle around in the kitchen, looking for glasses, the running of the cold water tap, and moments later a gentle rap at the bedroom door and a very meek sissy producing me a glass of honey coloured liquid. ‘Thank you’, I slipped from character and took a little sip from the short glass. The whiskey was good, a single malt if I wasn’t mistaken. ‘Mmm..’ I purred. He beamed. ‘This is going to be good. Sit yourself on the bed, slave, and you watch me.’ He obediently did as he was told. I watched as he wriggled uncomfortably in his underwear, his cock already bent over in the confines of the lingerie he was wearing. I took a big gulp of the whiskey, and took off my clothes, slowly undressing for my sissy friend. I could see in the mirror that his hand was already dipping inside his panties to have a sly touch of his aching member. I was naked, my own member becoming engorged, looking in the mirror at my friend fiddling around in his knickers, touching his stiff cock. I stood up. ‘Come here, slave!’ He stopped touching himself and immediately looked sheepish. He inched towards me, never looking me in the eye, but his eyes firmly on my hardening cock. I put my right leg on the end of the bed, and with a sweep of my right arm, gathered him up, lifting him bodily off his feet, and placed him over my raised knee. He squirmed, rather futile, I might add. I forcibly pulled down his panties to his knees, and slapped his left buttock, rather hard. His skin turned immediately red. I hit his right buttock even harder with my left hand and I felt him jump and whimper. I loosened my grip and he jumped backwards, rubbing his reddened buttocks with both hands, his cock bobbing about in front of him, fully aroused, twitching as he tried to soothe the pain in his backside. My own cock was fully aroused, loving the power I had over this willing participant. ‘That’s for being overdressed! Take off your knickers!’ He slowly eased them down the rest of the way and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side of his feet. ‘Make yourself useful,’ I ordered. I rummaged around in the bottom of my carrier bag and produced a bottle of nail polish. ‘Paint Misstress’ toes, slave,’ I commanded. He duly obliged, and did a far better job than I had ever managed in the past, I might add! I loved how his soft hands encased my feet, the warm breath as he blew on my toes. My cock was really straining at this point, already glistened by a little bit of pre-cum. I ordered my slave to lick it! Oh, God! That felt so good! ‘That’s enough!’ I didn’t want to cum too soon, and certainly not as a man. I got him to paint my finger nails and then ordered him from his bedroom.
I opened up the fresh pair of black lace topped stockings, breathed in the fresh nylon smell, and gently rolled them up each leg. I applied eye liner, mascara, plumping out my eyelashes, some black eye shadow, and some gorgeous slutty red lipstick. I applied some sparkly lipgloss over the top of it, and looked down at my twitching cock as I stood up to adorn my black basque. I ordered my ‘slave’ to come back into the room, and I got him to do up the hooks that I couldn’t reach. His eyes were lustfully all over me now, his own cock already glistening at the tip. ‘Thank you. You may leave.’ His head faced the floor and I heard the bedroom door gently close. I then stepped into a black pin-striped female trouser suit, padded at the shoulders but low cut to show off the frilly cups of the basque. Then I took out the open toed strappy heels, slowly fastening them up, slowly walking around in front of the dresser, admiring the look. I brought out a bright red shoulder length wig and placed it atop my head. I had some hairpins, and placed the locks on my head into a beehive, securing them firmly into place. I finally took my glasses out of their case, placed them on my painted face, and suggestively looked over the top of them as I watched myself in the mirrors. I was now Danica!
I opened the door to the living area, holding the remnants of the whiskey, taking a little sip from my painted lips, delighting in the lipstick mark left on the glass. My slave was sat on the end of the couch, slowly and gently wanking his engorged member. I took a last drink from the glass, and put it down on the coffee table in front of him. I disapprovingly tutted as he played with his cock. ‘I didn’t say you could do that, did I?’ A look of sheer terror went through him, and I could see him squirm as he knew I wanted to spank him again! ‘I-I’m so sorry, Mistress!’ he apologized. No good. He would have to be corrected. I ordered him up and got him to lay flat on his couch. His red buttocks were tensed tightly, rippling under the pale blue chemise of his negligee. I strode purposely to his head, placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and whispered into his ear, ‘I only do this because I love you!’ Then I brought my left hand down as hard as I could across both his buttocks, quickly, three times. His backside was aglow, and there were tears in his eyes. I bent over and gently placed a kiss on each glowing buttock; he jumped in fear at both caresses. I was beginning to think he liked the idea of being a total sub more than the brutal reality!
‘Get on your knees, slave! Let’s see how well you suck a cock!’ He quickly got down onto the laminated floor and fumbled around trying to release my fully erect member from the constraints of the trouser suit. He couldn’t figure out the side the buttons were on, so I released myself from the bottom half of the suit, kicking it to the corner of the room, my cock bouncing about his poorly made up face. I slowly undid the buttons of the jacket, and flung it over the back of the settee. I stood there as Danica, redhead, wearing a basque and hold up stockings, open toed stillettoes, peering at my painted feet and hands over the top of my spectacles, waiting to have the tip of my penis licked by my dutiful slave. And then he lovingly licked my sensitive tip. His tongue working in little circles. He lovingly gave me little butterfly kisses all along the length of my shaft, and then slowly took me in, inch by inch. His hands were stroking my stocking clad legs, his tongue working the underside of my cock as he bobbed his head back and forth. He knew what he was doing, alright! ‘Oh, what a good girl, you are,’ I encouraged him as I reached out to stroke the back of his neck, as he expertly sucked my throbbing cock. He moaned, and a bit of his saliva dripped from my tight ball sac to the laminated floor. ‘Go slowly, now. Mistress wants this to last a little bit longer!’ He slowed the pace down, but concentrated on taking me all the way down his throat, and then stuck his tongue out to run it up the crease of my scrotum. Oh, God! That was fucking ecstasy! After a couple of minutes, I stopped him, as I was bordering on cumming. ‘Do you have a vibrator or dildo?’ I asked. ‘Yes, mistress.’ ‘Go get it. I want to see you play with it!’ He disappeared into the adjoining bedroom and came out with a black vibrator, about 8 inches in length, thickly veined and already humming loudly. I removed my glasses and placed them on the coffee table as he slowly inched the big plastic cock up his backside. The humming became muffled, but a look of pure ecstasy filled his face. In and out, he toyed his arse. There was already pre-cum dribbling from his hard cock to the floor.
‘Alright, slave. I’m going to give you a drink of hot cum, and you’d better not spill a drop!’ I presented my hard cock to his loving lips once more, and he feverishly went to work. His head bobbed back and forth, saliva coated my shaft and balls as he sucked and moaned in delight. I panted and moaned, thoroughly enjoying the moment. I looked down at my stocking clad legs, my painted toes astride my willing slave’s knees, as the floor betwixt his legs filled with a mixture of his pre-cum and saliva dripping from my cock. And then I felt my orgasm approach. The tingle in my backside was slow and intense. And then I felt the spunk rising from my aching balls, and as the first gush left my cock, it stung with the intensity of my cumming. My cock sucking friend gagged, and my penis left his mouth. Luckily, he had his eyes shut as the next wave of my orgasm splashed all across his face and shot into his poorly adorned blond wig. I took my cock to hand and ensured the rest of my load splattered over his pink lip-stick, slapping the side of his cheek as the last few spurts dribbled down his face.
‘Tut-tut! You may need another spanking for that!’ He visibly shrank away upon hearing those words! I sat myself on the edge of the sofa. ‘Now take your cock and wank it. I want to see you cum!’ I ordered him. He took his cock into his right hand, and teased his backside with the vibrator with his left. It didn’t take long before he was shaking and convulsing, and a long stream of thick, white cum shot from his hard cock. A few more little pulses of ejaculate left his still hard member, and he slowly eased out the big black vibrator from his arse.
‘Now lick that up!’ I barked. Without a word, he got down on all fours and his tongue lapped up his still hot orgasm. I enjoyed being Danica, and I enjoyed having my own slave. That was the first of our orgasms that afternoon, but not the last…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32