I leave work and go to the mall, just to walk around until our appointment.
I’m dressed as a boy, just a t-shirt and jeans and sneakers. No makeup. I’m carrying an unmarked shopping bag.
I go to the entrance and stand outside, waiting at the curb. No one pays any attention.
You’re a few minutes late. I get it. I know my place.
You lean over and open the door. I hop in and fasten my seatbelt.
“Hi!” You smile at my voice.
“Hi. It’s good to see you. Get ready.”
You say this pleasantly, but I know it’s an imperative. I know I have to please you, not just with the result, but with the … transformation.
“How shall I start?” I can’t even change without you telling me how to do it.
“The top.”
I pull out a peach colored bra, simple with just a hint of lace and a tiny white bow in the center, and a white tank top from the sack. I pull my t-shirt off, exposing my naked breasts for your view.
“Your nipples are quite beautiful. The pills are making your breasts grow.”
I just smile and fit the bra over them. The t-shirt wasn’t soft enough, and the cool air of the car made me respondent, shall we say?
I fasten the bra in back and tug it into place, then pull on the tank top. The tiny straps allow the bra straps to be visible. You seem to like that. I’m still not sure about the look – it seems somewhat … common.
“Now, the shorts.”
I unbuckle my belt and unsnap the jeans. I kick off my sneakers and pull off the jeans.
“You seem disappointed I’ve already got the panties on. I like to wear them at work – it’s a turn-on, my knowing I have lacy underthings where no one can tell but me.”
“Ok, sweetie, keep going. Kiss-kiss.” Sweet tone. You don’t have to be mean when you’re already on top.
I pull on the light blue shorts. They’re tight and quite short, exposing the lightly tanned flesh of my professionally waxed legs, leading down to my bright green pedicure. I pull out a tube of expensive cream and moisturize my legs. He loves this quite feminine gesture so I draw it out, careful not to overdo it.
I put on a pair of sandals with 3 inch heels and fasten the straps. This, too, is a womanly process which he watches avidly, drinking in my femininity.
“Now, the…”
“makeup, I know…your favorite part.”
I pull down the visor and the mirror lights. I pin my hair back, then pat myself down with a light powder and begin. Nothing too fancy, it’s still daytime and we’re not going anywhere too exciting.
A little foundation, applied with a brush, then some contouring. He drives carefully, avoiding quick changes in speed or direction. I get the blush on carefully and quickly.
Now my brows get some definition, then just the finest hint of liner. No shadow, today, so next I curl my lashes and apply the mascara while he’s stopped at a light, then line my lips.
A little lipstick and I’m done. I put on my earrings, some small hoops, then unpin my hair and smile at him. He smiles back.
“You’re so pretty, my love, and I enjoy watching you do that so much.”
“We can do a more elaborate version in a room, sometime. Wait, I’m not finished.”
I put on some press-on nails that are already colored to match my toes. This is expedient, given my situation.
“Are you going to feed me, now? I’m hungry”
We go to a chain restaurant and have a glass of wine, then he has steak and I eat a salad. He gives me a bite of his steak and I assure him that’s all I want.
We stop at the hotel where he’s already booked a room. I always feel everyone in the lobby looks at me like I’m a hooker, but I’m really his girlfriend and just keep smiling. He says something as we walk through and I laugh and look at him like I adore him. I notice several of the disapproving staff checking out my ass as I pass.
He opens the door and let’s me go in first. He’s bought me flowers! There is a mixed arrangement including a few red roses, anyway.
“Oh, Baby, they’re beautiful…Thank you so much!”
I hug him and raise my face for a kiss. He doesn’t disappoint me, his lips meeting mine and showing me the passion he has for me. His arms surround me and hold me tightly, his hands rubbing my shoulders and the small of my back.
I lose track of time and his tongue finds it’s way to mine. We wrestle this way, my hands rubbing the back of his neck and head. I know I don’t have to, but I’m sure I love him. I’m positive. He’s so sweet to me. Demanding, but … sweet.
He pulls me closer and begins kissing my neck and shoulders. He finds just a hint of sandalwood I put there for him, just for him, when he wasn’t looking. This has him linger, kissing and sucking my skin while I grow warmer and warmer.
I feel him move the straps off my shoulders, and I shiver in anticipation of his lovemaking. I hold my hands up in surrender and he pulls off my top, then pauses to admire my lingerie. He smiles, then bends to kiss my breasts just above the bra, another scent left there for him, so subtle, just hinting of the sea. My flesh swells and the bra feels too tight.
His fingers find the clasp and the pretty peach thing falls away. His lips now find my nipples and he suckles them, nibbling and teasing. I’m losing feeling in my hands and my hips grind into him.
He pushes me down onto the bed and my arms fall back. He unsnaps my shorts and in one movement, pulls them and my panties down over my sandals. He resumes kissing my breasts, but shortly travels his kisses down my belly to my thighs. His hands cup my ass and press me upward to his mouth, which teases me everywhere but where I most desire it. I grind against him, twisting to move my sex to his mouth and tongue, but he laughs and pulls away, time and again.
“You bastard, eat me, eat my pussy, I beg you, please.”
Instead, he pulls out his cock, dripping with precum, and begins rubbing it all around the opening, teasing me, torturing me with pleasure. I know it will just encourage his teasing if I beg, so I just moan.
Slowly he breaches me and slides it in. He moves my legs together and holds them together on one side of his head, the heels pointing to the ceiling. He lifts my butt off the bed to the right height for his fucking and he begins a steady rhythm of strokes, sometimes tender and short, sometimes savage and long. I love the feel of his cock inside me, his hands holding me firmly, taking me as if he totally owns me, my will irrelevant to his desire and lust.
My hands clasping the bedspread, peaking, peaking, I’m saying, “Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes, fuck me, take me, fuck me, you bastard, I love it, I love you, oh my, oh, fuck, …”
I come in utter climax, the feeling washing over me, drowning me. I see stars, can you believe it, stars? Finally he thrusts so hard he nearly loses his hold on my legs, and his semen floods me, the hot jets filling me and coming and coming. This brings on a second climax and I feel my pussy clenching him, holding him in, milking it utterly.
(This never happens, I know, I’m lucky. It’s why I’m writing about it. Maybe it was the hotel room?)
He’s still hard, though. He flips me over and pulls my hips to him. He fucks inside me and I lower my chest to the bedspread in total surrender. This time he takes me roughly, nothing but harsh, long rapid strokes, his hands clasping my waist to his desire. He’s already come once, I’m really in for it this time, he’ll probably last an hour. Sweet, sweet surrender.
“Tell me a story while I fuck you.”
“You bastard. While you enjoy yourself, I have to work? Tell me what fucking is like for a man.”
I snuggle my ass into him, wanting to feel the entire length. This movement distracts him and I hear a gasp of pleasure, so I smile.”
“You get distracted when you’re eleven or twelve, but you don’t know what’s wrong. Girls look different and you start wanting to know more about them, but you don’t know why.”
“The first time I talked a girl into it, it didn’t go well. I came the instant I touched her. She just laughed and kissed me and told me to wait a minute. I got hard again and she guided me inside. It felt so wonderful, so right – soft and liquid and warm and hot, all at the same time. It’s really involuntary, you just want to move in and out forever. I lasted a bit longer, enough for her to come, anyway. I’ll never forget the look on her face – talk about a shit-eating grin…”
“Was she pretty? What color was her hair?”
“Well, not as pretty as you.” (Smart man.) “Blonde, but I later learned to appreciate …”
He’d never wavered through all this, making love and talking at the same time. I felt my body responding, peaking slowly.
“Tell me what it’s like for a woman?”
“It matters more whether you care about me or not. It’s a real turn-off if I think I’m just another fuck to you. The smallest things you do show me your love and devotion and that you’re bonded to me uniquely.”
He rimmed my asshole with his finger, which I love, and then he stuck his finger in. I instantly came again, not as hard this time, but he felt me clasping around his cock. I exclaimed my pleasure and pressed back against him, his cock softening inside me.
He rubbed my back, gently and turned me back over. He kissed me softly on the lips and looked me in the eye.
“Will you marry me?”