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2022-05-16 09:31:56

    Top 10 steps to fuck your sissy

               How to make pegging demeaning and fun as possible? 1.Dirty talk. Ask him how much he loves taking your cock, getting fucked, etc. Call him your little dick boy, little sissy boy, your little whore, slut, faggot etc.

    2.Make him tell you how much he likes your big cock make him ask for more .

    3.Say humiliating stuff about his tiny little cock and how yours is better, bigger, or use other men that had fucked you that he knew about etc. How you wish he could fuck you the way you fuck him and the way other men still fuck you .

    4.Make him tell how much he likes it and make him beg for the strapon and make him look you in the eyes, this adds great to his embarrassment.

    5.When you have the Strap On on and he’s naked, it’s pretty clear what’s coming, but there’s no need to hurry; the psychology of the anticipation is there to be exploited. Order him around, whip him if you’re into that make him suck it put him in panties take picture of him doing so for later use . .Such as showing your girlfriends that can keep your secret blackmail incase he want’s his manhood back .

    6.Make him kneel down and lube up your cock use the words sissy, slut, faggot etc .laugh at him while he lubes it up for you

    7.Use a Ball-gag or a Penis-gag on him and tying his hands behind his back tell him you are fucking other men and your not going to stop while you fuck him doggy-style . Tell him he’s a sissy and make him ask you to go out and fuck strange men . If he won’t say it ram him hard as you can till he does trust me ladies he well ask you to .

    8.Tell him how much better fucking him is than “normal” sex (lasts longer; your cock is a lot  bigger than his); tell him it’s the only sort of sex he’s going to be getting from now on; the only sort of sex he deserves because he’s to much of a sissy girl now .

    9.When pegging him make him cum in your hand, then with the dildo still in him, lift your hand to his mouth. He will be reluctant the first few times. A couple sharp thrusts will usually make him open him mouth at which point you can cup your hand over his mouth to force him to do it. Don’t stop fucking him after he has cam most men want to quit right after . Keep going at least 15 to 30 minutes longer this is ware the first part of ( #7 ) helps , He must learn you will fuck him till your done NOT till he is .

    10.Have him lay on his back with his head over the edge of the bed, put the strap-on in his mouth fuck is mouth like it was his ass while calling him a cock sucking sissy slut laugh at him while this is taken place . Tell him your teaching him how to suck a man’s cock because you never know when your going to need or want some extra money .

    The Country Barn

    It was Saturday and, as arranged the previous week, I set out to visit Katie again. I had chosen lingerie to wear under my outer clothes and as I sat down in the driver’s seat, I could feel my rear suspenders stretch along the sides of my buttocks, covered by my lacy, powder blue knickers, but still visible through the flimsy nylon material. The knickers were part of a set, so my bra and garter belt matched perfectly, and I had found a pair of light blue stockings after a lot of online searching. My bra was flattened as much as possible, but I had detected the two bumps under my shirt when I checked in the mirror. However, I was not planning to be close to anyone until I got to Katie’s. I had packed a bag with a selection of other lingerie and outerwear and also a toy or two in case we found a use for them. 

    My journey was supposed to be uninterrupted but out of nowhere a police car appeared behind me, lights flashing. I knew that I hadn’t been speeding, so obediently drew to the shoulder of the road, rolled my window down and waited. The officer came up to the window and greeted me with a friendly ‘Good morning’. Did I know that one of my brake lights was not working? I did not. The officer asked for my licence and insurance as was routine, and did not comment as I showed the rental vehicle papers and handed him my overseas driving licence.  As he was checking these, I saw his eyes giving my shirtfront more than a passing glance and saw him looking at my thighs. I glanced down and showing clearly through the taught material of my trousers were the bumps of my front suspenders. I felt my face flush with embarrassment, but he calmly went on to tell me to get the light fixed as soon as possible and preferably today. Then he sauntered back to his patrol car. I knew he had seen that I was wearing feminine underthings, but, of course, it was of no concern to him. Relieved, I drove on.

    I parked a little way from Katie’s place, took my bag and walked to her door, but before I could knock, the door opened and there stood Katie, welcoming me effusively. She looked stunning, dressed in a long, peach coloured dress that flowed and swirled as she moved. Her simple make-up, well coiffed wig and costume jewellery completed her appearance and as I followed her into the house my attention was drawn to the old-fashioned seams of her nude stockings and black high heels. I could never compete with that, but then, unlike Katie, I had never truly attempted to pass as a female in public, other than our visit to the country pub beer garden last weekend, still being very much in the closet. 

    No sooner had I sat down at the kitchen table, expecting that we would spend the next hour or two in the house, than Katie announced that I should get changed and be ready to go out shopping with her. Shopping! Oh my goodness, I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to protest, but Katie hurried me into the back room and added that, when ready, she would be teaching me a little about make-up before we left. Obediently and a little stunned I opened my bag and took off my outer clothes. I stuffed some socks in my flattened bra to give me the 38C look, not too exaggerated and reasonably natural for my build. Catching sight of myself in the long mirror behind the door, I actually thought I looked not too bad in my choice of lingerie, though my stockings needed pulling up my thighs as usual after driving.  I considered what Katie was dressed in and decided to wear a full slip, beautifully lacy along the bodice and along the hem. Over this I chose a long sleeved, ruffled white blouse which was opaque enough to be decent but was still filmy enough to more than hint at the lace underneath and looked very feminine rather than business like. I matched it with a just below the knee, fairly full medium grey skirt of material light enough to have a similar swirling motion when walking. I had my short Arctic blond, blue streaked wig (my Amanda Jane wig), the same old black low heels that I could walk normally in and a rather striking necklace that I had found in a charity shop. I took my white rimmed dark glasses (my ‘security blanket’) with me back to the kitchen and performed a little runway turn for Katie. 

    She had a box of make-up items on the table and I was instructed to sit down. Having no make-up skills, it was quite interesting to sit and be made up by Katie, whose look of concentration suggested this process was quite challenging. She told me she was just keeping it simple but that it would make a difference. When she stood back and handed me a mirror, I was very hesitant to look but when I did I had to agree that it did make a difference. Nothing, in my opinion, could possibly mask my masculine features, but I had to admit that what she had done took the edge off without making me look ridiculous. I was impressed.

    So, we were ready to go.  Still rather uncertain about actually stepping outside, I retrieved my bag and stepped through the front door trying to appear confident and sliding into the passenger seat of Katie’s car as if I wore a skirt every day. Katie drove off, heading, she told me, to a suburban mall in which there was a lingerie shop which she had found to be transgender friendly. Arriving, we drew up to the curb in front of a shop window chock full with a colourful display of underthings, the kind of window display at which I would find it hard not to stop and stare, pulse rate elevating as I did so. Still thinking of the venture as a potential “ordeal”, I got out and aimed straight at the door, Katie taking her time behind me. Once inside, the display of racks and shelves was such that I was left gaping – well, not literally open-mouthed, but it felt like it. A middle aged lady was approaching and Katie, whom I think was recognized from previous visits, responded to her offer of assistance by saying that she had come to find some sexy lingerie for her friend. I know that I blushed, taken aback by this bold statement that caused the lady to look at me. Her look was kindly, not critical, and I reasoned that she would not be assisting in the shop if not accustomed and perhaps even sympathetic to cross dressers such as ourselves.

    Katie was moving purposefully down the aisle with the assistant, so I followed. They stopped by a display of sets of bras, panties and garter belts, colourful, lacy but practical, unlike the flimsy garments typically sold in a XXX store. Katie whisked a set off the rack and held it up high in front of me, asking what colours I liked best. I actually prefer pastel colours rather than the bright red and black of ‘dress-up’ lingerie, though royal blue, yellow and green would also be on my list. I told Katie this, probably in too soft a voice, betraying my discomfort. That, Katie was determined to change and she reached for a rack of full size frilly French knickers, picking a shocking pink pair. Taking the waistband in both hands, she proceeded to hold them against my hips, announcing that they would suit me well. Gathering that she was trying to ‘break the ice’ and help me be less nervous, I cooperated by taking the knickers from her,  holding them up against me and giving a little wiggle. Both Katie and the lady assistant laughed and from that point we had great fun, joshing and overacting as we explored the shop together. 

    Agreeing with Katie’s assessment and holding the pink knickers as my first potential purchase, we moved on and sorted through a collection of full length and half slips of a variety not found in the big box stores which seem to cater only to white, black and beige preferring customers. We both found treasures there, I selecting both a long, pale grey, white lace trimmed slip and a very short pink slip that would fit under my short skirts. And so the collection I carried over our arms grew.

    Just when I thought we were on the way to the front desk to purchase our finds, Katie commented to  our assistant, far too loudly, that we needed to look at the selection of crotch less panties, further drawing attention by declaring that we could put them to good use later today.  I’m sure I turned crimson, but Katie clearly thought it highly amusing. There were indeed several designs of crotch less undies, ranging from thongs to full panties with convenient parts missing. These I thought far more erotic than the tiny one’s which left everything on display, and I picked a white pair with lace trim around both a rear and front window, the latter positioned so that one could be tucked or protruding with just a little shift. Katie then headed off to find us crotch less pantyhose to complete the ensemble. At last we got to the front desk where our lady assistant, I think with me in mind, took us to one end of the counter, a little away from other curious customers. Unlike some stores I have been in, she proceeded to quietly bag our separate purchases without holding them up high and making a great ceremony of removing hangers and tags. 

    At last we were back in the car and heading out into the country. Katie, both amused and concerned about my discomfort in the store, reached over and gave my crotch a reassuring squeeze to which I immediately stirred in reaction. Now, she told me, we were off to meet Glenda at a place she had found where in a small copse there was an old abandoned barn which would make a great place for a photo shoot. Who was Glenda, I asked, thinking that Katie had perhaps arranged a threesome. No, not so, Glenda was apparently a photographer who had photographed Katie as a cross dresser before and does so purely out of professional interest, staying behind the camera, detached from what she is photographing. OK I said, thinking that this would certainly be a new experience for me.

    We found Glenda already waiting at the appointed meeting place. She greeted Katie with a kiss and a hug and, to my surprise, greeted me with a hug too. She was an attractive, middle aged woman with a twinkle in her eye. She gave the impression that nothing would shock her. She was dressed in a “sensible” just-below-the-knee grey skirt and wore a cameraman vest, loaded with pockets, over an army type shirt, not attractive in itself but doing nothing to disguise a very ample bosom beneath. As we walked along a narrow path through the woods, carrying various bags, she explained the plan. She would be taking photos and videos of us doing whatever we wanted to. She laughingly said she thought she had seen pretty well every thing. Copies would be sent to us, but she was going to use a selection of the originals to add to a photo essay or book on cross dressers and cross dressing that she was planning to publish online. She assured us that if her selection of photos included clear facials, she would crop or blur such that our identity was protected. So, instead of posing for our own cameras fastened to the car, as we had done last weekend, we were to do whatever we felt like doing and ignore her even though she would be poking her camera all over the place. 

    After only a short walk we arrived in a small clearing in which stood a dilapidated barn. It had a solid concrete floor and was not in a dangerous condition, but the roof was seriously damaged and light poured in through numerous gaps. The once imposing big doors were gaping and sagging, but the building was nonetheless very photogenic, its former, almost ground level glass windows now empty rectangles, and bushes and young trees now endeavouring to clothe the whole structure with greenery. 

    We left our bags on an old but sturdy picnic table that someone had more recently placed by the big doors and Katie and I briefly explored the building. We found a broad, low window sill in the sun but dappled by the bushes growing beside it, and both sat down, legs astride the sill which was about equal height from floor and ground, so that we could lean back and enjoy the quietness and the freedom of not being concerned about the next vehicle that might come along. Before long I saw Glenda coming towards us and waited until she was hovering nearby, camera at the ready. I reached forward and placed my hand on Katie’s stockinged knee, then slowly moved my hand up her leg, pushing her skirt with It, until it found her crotch, loosely enclosed by her panties. My fingers found the cylindrical shape of her cock and I squeezed it and moved my hand in lazy circles across it and the rounded shapes of her testicles beneath. I felt an almost immediate response, Katie giving a groan and almost involuntarily opening her legs and pushing herself forwards a little to give me more room. I heard the click of Glenda’s camera shutter but I found no difficulty in ignoring it. When I felt Katie hard and tightly bulging the front of her panties, I slipped my hand under their edge and pulled out her swelling cock. I always become absorbed watching a cock become harder until fully engorged, so focussed on moving my hand rhythmically up and down her shaft until her cock remained upstanding without the support of my hand. At that point I swung forward and lowered my head to enclose the head of that erect staff between my lips. It felt and tasted so good. Salivating, I very slowly went down, accommodating her length little by little until my lips were pressed against her pubic area. Then, breathing heavily through my nose, I drew slowly up Katie’s shaft until only its tip was in my mouth. My tongue then flipped around the juicy bulb, working particularly on the underside. Katie made it obvious she was enjoying this slow fellatios and was pushing her hips towards me, willing me to start down again. Glenda, I noticed, was closing in from the side and I think was in video mode. I gave Katie a few more minutes of pleasure and then, because neither of us would have wanted her come at this early stage, I lifted my head and smiling with a mouth wet with saliva, asked what she would like next. It was no surprise to me that she told me to turn around on the window sill and bend over, raising my bum high. I felt my skirt and long slip being lifted and then a hand slide under my crotch and seek my balls through the silky material of my powder blue knickers.  Finding them, the hand slipped under the lacy edge and started earnestly fondling my jewels. As had Katie, I responded almost immediately, my cock rapidly enlarging in girth and length until it was straining to find a way out. It need not have tried, for Katie, taking me by surprise, suddenly pulled my knickers down to my knees and slapped my exposed cheek hard with the flat of her hand. It stung but then she slapped the other cheek and both stung. I hadn’t known of her interest in spanking and now received several more resounding slaps that left my whole bum hot and very likely reddened in the view of both Katie and Glenda, who was somewhere behind me, clicking away. With no time to protest, I felt the nozzle of a tube of lubricant nudged into my asshole and seconds later the swollen tip of Katie’s cock pushing firmly at the entrance. I pushed down my muscles to open for her and with almost no resistance she slid inside. I revelled in the feeling of being entered but Katie was in no mood to wait. She thrust until she was as tight against me as possible and then began to pump my ass. The sound of her slapping against my cheeks echoed in the empty barn and I just knew that Glenda would be capturing this assault on video. Katie didn’t let up, increasing her pace until I was hanging on tightly to the window sill to keep my balance. She wasn’t being rough but it was not a gentle buggering either. At last I felt a hesitation in her rhythm and with a final heavy thrust Katie spurted deep within my ass, going on for longer than I could believe and filling my back passage with more than plenty of her warm cum. Finally, her breathing settling, Katie slowly withdrew her cock, pulling with It, I was sure, a sizeable dribble of her cum. As her glans slipped through my anal sphincter, I heard a loud, spluttering fart, made worse by the echoing interior of the barn. Oh my God, how terribly embarrassing. Glancing round I saw Glenda still filming and both of them trying to stifle a giggle. I wanted to disappear into a deep hole in the ground, but Glenda demanded “cream pie” from behind her camera and I obligingly bent over again and disgorged as much of Katie’s cum as I could , feeling a stream running down my balls before dripping on to the sill below. I tried to apologize for farting so obviously but it was far too late, since both Katie and Glenda had clearly been greatly amused at my expense. Time for a break, clean up and recovery.

    We had brought washables, refreshments and also a large tartan blanket to spread on the ground. So after a private wash around the corner of the building, being sunny, we draped the rug over the picnic table and sat outside enjoying a drink and some finger food that we had pooled. Glenda seemed more than satisfied with her photography and we chatted about our early days of cross dressing, our respective sexual encounters, good and bad, and about clothes we would like to own or at least try on. Talking of this reminded us of our recent purchases so we each got out our new things and started trying them on, admiring them and trying each other’s clothes on too. As Katie and I became absorbed, Glenda fell back into her photographer role and hovered around snapping photos, some candid and some of which we deliberately posed, becoming naughtier as we got into the swing of our ‘fashion show’. 

    When we both slipped on our crotchless pantyhose and panties under the shield of our skirts, it was “gender reveal” show time. Females can afford to wear truly crotchless panties but we had both chosen pairs which at least contained our paraphernalia as long as one didn’t wriggle too much, though the rear was open to view if one bent over a bit. Together we fooled around for Glenda, lifting each other’s skirts to show off our wares. Katie had chosen red panties and, though the myth is that a bull is enraged by a red flag, when Katie bent over the picnic table, revealing the crack of her bottom through the open, heart shaped window in her panties, it was too much for me. Right behind her, so out of her sight, I dropped to my knees, pulled her cheeks apart and pushed my tongue against her ass hole. Katie actually squealed and half resisted but I had her firmly pinned to the edge of the table and mercilessly rimmed her hard, flicking my tongue around her hole and pushing a little into it. At this, as if resigned to her fate,  Katie bent forwards more, opened her legs to get a firm stance and pushed her bottom up at me. I tongued her forcefully, her attempts to squirm thwarted by my grip, and enjoyed the gasps and groans I was hearing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Glenda’s camera somewhere near my ear and heard the shutter clicking many times. My cock had naturally responded while I was rimming Katie, and I had briefly reached under my skirt to release it and let it hang, ready and waiting. 

    When Katie groaned that she had had enough and wanted to be fucked, I backed off and stood up. Katie turned around, sat on the edge of the picnic table and lay back, bending her shapely legs and pulling her knees back to open her ass wide. I yanked my cock into suitable stiffness, liberally applied some lubricant from the small tube I kept secreted in my bra, and pushed it against Katie’s entrance. Her sphincter muscle relaxed and I slowly slid into her as far as I could. Glenda was now crouched on the seat of the picnic table, her camera poised almost above the action. I was in no mood for a long and gentle fuck, so started thrusting at a rapid pace, feeling myself grow harder and longer as I did so. I held Katie’s legs back, her knees almost level with her chin and gained deep penetration. Katie had her eyes closed, and was breathing loudly between her half open lips. I dropped one hand down and released her cock from its hiding place, feeling her ass tighten as I began to work her cock to stiffness. Glenda was now crouched on the table top behind Katie’s head and so absorbed with her photography that she was unaware that her knees were apart and that I was being given a direct view up her skirt. I nearly lost it as I saw, not a triangle of her knickers but a bush of dark hair between her legs. She was not wearing any underwear and clearly had a very hairy cunt. I moved my eyes away from this distraction and concentrated on fucking Katie. 

    I could not last forever at this pace and was now working Katie’s cock hard in my hand. I felt the tightness building and came powerfully, though I knew that I produced less cum than Katie did and would not fill her ass as much as she had filled mine. I slowed and stopped, savouring the feeling before slowly pulling out. Glancing up at Glenda, glued behind her camera eyepiece, confirmed what I seen before, though now her knees were wider and the view much clearer. Having just ass fucked Katie, I nonetheless found myself daydreaming of a go with Glenda, but tried to dismiss the thought as too fanciful to entertain.

    We didn’t bother to change at this point and once again relaxed around the table. It was mid afternoon and I thought that the photo/video session with Glenda would now be at an end and expected us all to leave soon, and Katie probably thought so too. We had plans for a far more outrageous sex session at her house in the few hours she would still be alone. But, Glenda took us totally by surprise when she said that it been all very well being the ‘remote’ photographer, but she had become quite hot and bothered with all this close-up work with hard dicks and lubricated ass holes and would one, or both, of us consider giving her, a middle-aged spinster, a little ‘exercise’, as it were. In other words, she was now aroused and fancied sex. 

    Katie and I must have shown our surprise, but looking at each other we both figuratively shrugged and thought ‘well why not’. Cross dressers of our ilk, often married, are effectively bisexual in practice. 

    Glenda had a plan and sitting as if at table, beckoned us to sit on the table top to either side of her, facing her. We complied and Glenda promptly ran a hand up each of our skirts, found our cocks still hanging free from our recent activities, and took both in hand. She started to work us both into a satisfactory erection and then asked us to pull up our skirts. She smiled happily as she sat there holding a stiff cock to either side of her, and bending to one side, slid her mouth over Katie’s cock and sucked it expertly. Then she released it and swung over to my side, engulfing my cock in turn. I felt her tongue flipping and sliding around my shaft and then her lips pulling gently on my swollen bulb. She was obviously well versed in oral sex. Glenda alternated back and forth until she rightly judged that we were more than ready, and then surprised us again by asking whether we could perform a double penetration with her, filling her front and backdoor together. 

    The setting was not ideal for the gymnastics involved but leaving our up standing cocks wagging in the breeze, she took command. She laid the partly folded blanket on the central part of the table top and then asked Katie to sit on it, legs together and feet down on the bench. This Katie did, drawing her skirts up so that her cock stuck up invitingly. Glenda approached Katie, gathering up the front of her skirt. Now, I already knew she wasn’t wearing knickers and had glimpsed her hairy bush, but, by the look on her face, it was a surprise to Katie. Glenda stood there sporting a thick bush of dark hair between her fleshy thighs and was not at all shy about revealing it. She wasted no time, stepping up on the bench and kneeling astride Katie’s legs. Then taking hold of Katie’s cock, she guided it into that hairy bush where it disappeared until it had been fully engulfed. 

    With one hand Glenda pulled the back of her skirt up to her waist, revealing a well-rounded, large but not fat bottom, and, by both Katie and she leaning forward together, there came into my view a very receptive looking ass hole, below which I could see the base of Katie’s cock, otherwise well buried in Glenda’s cunt. It was quite a view, but now I had to do my part. By standing in the gap between the bench and the table top, astride Katie’s closed legs and bending my knees a little, I found that I was just about in the right position to place my still firm cock against Glenda’s asshole. I once again fumbled in my bra for my small tube of lubricant and applied it liberally to both my cock and to Glenda’s well stretched-looking back door. And well used it must have been, because in I slid without so much as a push. I went in as far as my position allowed and then both Katie and I seemed to select a similar, almost coordinated rhythm, both plunging in and drawing out in unison as if we had done this before many times.

    Glenda was not quiet about it. She was, we found out quickly, a ululator par excellence. She howled loudly and emitted long cries of pleasure that echoed through the barn and surrounding woods. It was as well we were not in an apartment or hotel room, and I was glad that it was unlikely that anyone was within earshot. 

    Somehow, though certainly not by design, both Katie and I climaxed almost together, accompanied by an extra long and loud wail from Glenda. I think I pumped more cum into Glenda’s ass than I had Katie’s, perhaps the novelty of the situation contributing to the level of my excitement. We both rested a few moments and then I pulled away, leaving trickles of cum running down to join that of Katie’s where things were leaking already. Glenda raised herself off Katie slowly, releasing a little flood of cum onto Katie’s balls, and as she stood up her skirt fell around her, cutting off the view. Katie unbent and stood up too. It had hardly been a comfortable position to hold, so we all needed to straighten. Glenda was glowing and over effusive, countering it by quickly summarizing how she would use the earlier material and how we would get copies and be required to give our permission for her to go ahead and use it. As she talked, she moved over to one of her camera tripods, did something to the camera and began to pack it away. It dawned on me then that she had had a video camera running the whole time we were engaged in our threesome. Seeing that I had realized, Glenda assured us that it would not appear on some tawdry website but would be her little souvenir of the experience, perhaps played on a rainy, lonely evening. Put that way, we were glad for her that she had run her video even though she had not meant us to know. 

    Katie and I cleaned up as best we could and put on clean undies for the journey back to her house, where a shower might be the first thing we did. How Glenda coped with her double cream pie, we did not see, but perhaps she too donned some knickers. We packed our things, walked back along the path and said our good byes to Glenda, giving her a hug and a kiss. She enthusiastically thanked us for voluntarily participating in her project and, a little more sheepishly, for the extra ‘exercise’. 

    As we drove off, I glanced back to see Glenda bent over as she stowed her equipment in the boot of her car. No, I couldn’t quite see whether she now had knickers on, but looking at that ample bottom brought a rush of pleasant recollections of being deep within it and, even now, thinking of it, a stirring, tight in my panties between my legs. 

    sissy-cheri-usa-949

    Why Do I Cross-Dress

    This is the question asked by almost everyone of us in the trans-gendered world. Many wives also want to know ‘Why does my husband cross-dress’.

    Over the last 20+ years, I have researched  this topic, and read everything I could get my hands on. I also have collected thousands of Survey results from TV’s, CD’s, TS’s, She-Males, and others. Through all of this, I’ve come up with a few conclusions.

    Actually, as I wrote this, it appears I have more than a ‘few’ conclusions. Therefore, if you’re a wife make sure you’re comfortable (wine in hand), and if your like me, make sure you’re properly dressed, before continuing.

    • This article deals with Transvestism / Cross-Dressing (TV/CD), not Trans-Sexual-ism (TS). There is a VERY big difference, and the reasons for cross-dressing are completely different. I am a TV, not a TS, so I can only speak of what I know. If you are uncertain as to what you or your husband are, please read our article on Transgender Labels, and maybe consider taking our Survey #2, which will provoke some thinking.
    • We must deal with facts, and not the MANY myths portrayed regarding cross-dressing. We already have an article which explains some common myths, and if you haven’t read it, I suggest you read it before going any further. It’s called TV Facts.
    • Not all TV’s & CD’s cross-dress for the same reasons. There are many common threads, but it is VITALLY important to understand you or your husbands particular interests. You should sit down and think about preparing something similar to the article I wrote about my personal interests & fantasies.
    • There are MILLIONS of men who cross-dress, and yet, are very few REAL LIFE articles or accounts of what makes us tick. We owe it to ourselves, and our wives, to research & attempt to understand why we are this way. NOTHING is more relevant than our own personal insights & true stories. I urge all of us that read this, to attempt something similar.
    • Last, but not least, I want to state a fact. THERE IS NO CURE FOR TRANSVESTISM. If you’re reading this article in an attempt to magically find the answer to your problem (or cure your husband), I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, it’s not here …. It’s not anywhere. The only ‘cure’ for transvestism, is LEARNING TO COPE. Fact, not myth.

    Since I am a TV, and not all TV’s cross-dress for the same reasons, it is important to get an understanding of my perspective, i.e., where I’m coming from. One of the best works I’ve seen on distinguishing differences among cross-dressers, came from Mrs. Silk

    While I’m not in 100% agreement with everything she says, I am very impressed by her and the wonderful work she’s doing. Mrs. Silk had published an article in her magazine, and on the free side of her website (before it became a pay site), called The Cross-Dressing Spectrum. I have requested permission to re-publish the article here, but have had no response, yet. I can not publish the article, but I will tell you where I fall in the spectrum, which will help you understand me and my perspective, a little better.

    I am ORANGE, and a more accurate description of my interests would be:

    ‘A man who has a love of all the silky fabrics and often prefers sexy styles of clothes, who requires not only the underwear but top clothes (Pink Satin French Maid’s Outfit, Petticoats, Corsets, Stockings, Garters, High Heels, etc.). He is “turned on” by the thought or actuality of wearing ladies clothes, and prefers to be “forced” to dress in this way. He also requires full make-up, wig, a femme name and so on. Doing so heightens his sexual excitement with or without a partner, and  the sexual side is
    very strong’.

    That is not an exact quote, but a modified version which more accurately describes my own preferences.

    I believe there are at least 5 major categories of causes involved in cross-dressing, and each category has multiple factors. I think it is important to understand the individual categories & factors, then we can actually discuss WHY we cross-dress. I have listed these in this order for a particular reason; each factor will weigh upon the particular direction (Cross-Dressing Spectrum Color) generated by category #5 (Experience). I do not think cross-dressing desires arise from or because of any 1 particular category or factor, except in extreme cases. Rather, I believe the interaction of all categories is involved, and directs the final outcome. I would like to say that these factors are all separate, but that is not true. As I wrote this, it became increasingly difficult to keep something isolated to 1 category. I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad, if it was simple, the experts would be able to cure us, huh?

    1) Genetics

  • DNA - I believe, just a theory, that there is some genetic factor which makes some people more susceptible to cross-dressing, than others. Science has just recently (one generation) discovered that there is actually a reason for Trans-Sexuals. We know that males have XY chromosomes, and females have YY chromosomes. Therefore, EVERY male contains the female Y chromosomes !!! TS’s have actually been found to be male, with YY chromosomes, i.e., they were literally a woman trapped in a man’s body !!! (I know this is an over simplification of the facts, but it accurately describes the crux of the issue). Not until science could measure & analyze this information, did we actually KNOW this existed. I believe that as science digs deeper into human DNA, they will discover something associated to transvestism just as they have with Tran-Sexuals.
  • Family - Take my family for an example. My parents had many children, and all were girls, except me. I am the ONLY boy, and I have many sisters. This becomes important in category #5 (Childhood), but it could also hold a clue to a genetic factor, as yet undiscovered. I have never been tested, but I’m sure I have XY chromosomes, but is there something else we don’t know, yet? We know the theory that one sperm makes you male or female is inaccurate. Actually, all embryo start female and IF the proper elements are provided, the embryo DEVELOPS into male. Who says that development is like a light switch, on/off or male/female. Could it be more like a dimmer switch, more male, more female? As I stated, just a theory.
  • 2) Sexuality

  • Heterosexual - Many TVs & CDs have a very difficult time with their sexuality and transvestism/cross-dressing, I know I certainly did !!! Properly categorized, I am a heterosexual transvestite; i.e., I am ONLY attracted to women, no matter what I am wearing. Can you imagine what my mind is telling me when I am dressed in pink silk panties, and my manhood is trying to tear through them? Does that make me gay, i.e., a homosexual ? The answer is NO. If it makes no rational sense to me, how can I possibly explain it to someone else, or expect someone else to understand ? I have never been able to accurately convey the meaning of this psychological explanation of transvestism, so I will cut & paste it here:
  • Is that a mouthful or what ?  However, there is a GREAT deal of truth to that paragraph, at least I know it hits the nail on the head for me !

  • Homosexuality - Did you know that the percentage of homosexual transvestites is LOWER than the percentage of homosexual normal’ men ?!?! How can that be possible ? How can men, who WANT to be dressed enfemme, NOT be homosexual, or at least be more homosexual than ’normal’ guys !? It baffles the mind ! Or does it ? Unfortunately, I know much more about transvestism than homosexuality, because I suffer from one and not the other. If it were the other way around, guess what I’d be writing about ? However, as a TV, let me tell you why I think most TV’s are heterosexual. Many people have reported that while dressed, the CD/TV becomes more submissive, more loving, tender, feminine. I STRONGLY agree with this. I also know how I feel about women. They fascinate me; they are exotic, mysterious, beautiful, to be admired, … goddesses. FACT - TV’s ADORE WOMEN !!!
  • Sex Drive - This could relate back to genetics, however, I think sexuality is it’s own category. I have read that, in the ’early years’ of cross-dressing, sexual arousal was prominent, but, in the later years, that transformed into other feelings and the sexual arousal diminished. I have also received fe-mail from 70+ year old TV’s that assure me this is not the truth! Who is right ?
    I HAVE NEVER MET A CD/TV WHO NEED VIA
    GRA !!!!
    Simply put, BOTH. A person’s sex drive is NOT determined by transvestism! {My lovely wife, Mistress Marie, would probably faint, if not ROAR with laughter, if she heard me say that !!!} Why ??? Because I am one of those people who have a VERY high sex drive, and my Transvestism multiplies that by 100 !!! (Fetish is next …) So, when Mrs. Silk created the Cross-Dressing Spectrum, sexual arousal plays a dominant part for the red & orange areas, and diminishes towards the other end of the spectrum. Sex drive is not the ONLY factor involved here, but it IS a factor. The fact of the matter is, some people naturally have a higher sex drive than others, with or without the involvement of cross-dressing.
  • Arousal - I do not cross-dress for sexual arousal (Again, Mistress Marie laughter in the background) however, I can not cross-dress without becoming aroused, nor would I ever cross-dress unless my arousal could be addressed … i.e., no chastity devices !!! Prolonged arousal, i.e., extended time putting on makeup, dressing, corset lacing, maid chores, etc., are VERY desirable, but sexual relief is required in the end. It sounds odd, but it’s the truth. In discussions with Mistress Marie, I first felt guilt over the amount of sexual arousal created by cross-dressing, but she said something that inspired me. She said that most women would LOVE to know what single thing they could do to instantly arouse their husband, and she now knows what that is with me. Believe me … even the proverbial ‘not tonight honey, I have a headache’ is NO match for silk, satin, and forced feminisation to a tv/cd !!!
  • Fetish - I use to say that my transvestism was a fetish …. and I probably still think that. However, I heard something on TV (television) that made me think. The person stated that a fetish was ONLY if you couldn’t achieve orgasm by any other means. That concerned me, and probably concerns our wives. Let me explain my personal experiences …. don’t laugh too much.
    Fact - I do NOT need to be Cheri` or even think about Cheri` to be sexually aroused or have an orgasm (or more).
    So … if the above definition of FETISH is correct, than my cross-dressing desires are not a fetish. However, the definition above points out a VERY clear point, the object of my desire is the female body (My wife & Mistress).
    However, in one particular incident, I was being dressed, made-up, perfumed, etc. in excess of 4 hours ….. from the first minute …. my manhood was at FULL attention !!! Never touched …. except by silk panties !!! This is why Mistress Marie would laugh …. cross-dressing is not required for sexual arousal, but there is NOTHING that excites me more. So … is that a fetish ?
  • 3) Society / Culture

  • Women can wear blue jeans …. but men can’t wear skirts …
  • Women can wear tennis shoes …. but men can’t wear high heels …
  • Women can be CEOs …. but men can’t be housewives (Domestic Engineers)  …
  • Women can wear Hanes cotton briefs …. but men can’t wear Victoria’s Secret Satin Panties …
  • Women can wear tuxedos … but men can’t wear Wedding Dresses …
  • Women can wear their hair short & sassy ….. but men can’t wear long hair unless they’re ULTRA MACHO
  • Women can do commercials wearing their husbands dress shirt, and it’s cute … but men can’t do the same wearing his wife’s dresses …
  • Women can wear shoulder pads … but men can’t wear bras …
  •  Petticoat Discipline - So … what’s a Mother suppose to do with an unruly boy ? Especially a boy that picks on little girls because they’re wearing a 'sissy’, frilly dress ? I know, let’s teach him a lesson … let’s force him to wear a dress !! That will surely solve the problem ! NOT !!! Do you know that petticoat discipline was considered 'normal’ in my mother’s generation, and before ? Nowadays it’s probably considered child abuse, and rightly so !!! The psychological effects of this ’normal’ discipline can effect your child for the rest of his life ! Unfortunately, Women/Mothers, were NEVER told of the side effects of petticoat discipline … As I have stated in my personal page …. ANY discipline which connects gender to action is WRONG ! A mother may think she is handling the situation in a fair manner, yet, she has NO concept of the damage she is probably creating !
    Let’s start by stating a fact ….. Women can/do NOT understand what goes through a young boy’s mind … period.
    OK … ladies … you say that’s a chauvinistic statement … you’re inaccurate. Let’s turn the tables and say a Dad can’t understand why his daughter wants to play with dolls instead of football … am I right or what ? If I were not a young boy myself, I would have NO idea what possessed my son to kick over the neighbor girl’s doll house ! Except for the fact that I did it myself as a boy! There is NO rhyme or reason to the mind of a young boy (to his mother) … fact !

    4) Current Situation (Job, Family, Age, Etc.)

    (Initially, I was not going to include this as a category, but I changed my mind after more thought. I’m not sure how it will come out, so please be patient.)

  • Middle Age - Many people report in increase in cross-dressing activities in men at middle age. The pressures of life can & do affect us all. For men, middle age can be a very difficult time. It’s not the stress that creates the cross-dressing, rather, cross-dressing is a form of relief from the stress. But if middle age doesnt cause transvestism, then it had to come from someplace else. Usually, there are other factors, which we have discussed, and will discuss in category #5 (Childhood).
  • A Time Not To Cross-Dress - Is there a time NOT to crossdress. (Your wife is saying YEAH … ALWAYS !) I joined the military straight out of High School. (I will not mention the branch of service, because I think that shows a lack of respect, and would tarnish their reputation.) However, oddly enough, for my 4 year tour of duty, I didn’t dress up once !!! Why ??? I’m sure there are multiple factors, but I will list a few. First of all, if you’ve never been in the military, you have NO idea what they can do to you and your life !!! I have seen internet pictures of service men in uniform & dressed up in drag …. and I must say …  that is a VERY bad case of 'lack of judgment’. Second, my life & lifestyle were VERY different. I was 18-22 years old, single, employed, traveled, and basically not a care in the world (except war). However, I did drink, party, and pursue women a LOT … typical young service man. So maybe I just found another outlet for my transvestic desires, and I was also thinking of my career.
  • Episodes - Does that mean that thoughts of cross-dressing never entered my mind while I was in the military ? Have I stumbled onto the magic cure for transvestism ? No !!! It means I was different, my lifestyle was different, and I dealt with it differently. Remember what the tv description above states, having a periodic or episodic, sometimes fetishistic, urge to dress. Unfortunately, we can NOT (repeat NOT) control the period or episode frequencies when the cross-dressing urge will strike. Example, watching the movie 'Wild, Wild West’ today …. did you see the corsets on those women !?!?!? And that pink dress Salma Hayek was wearing at the end ? I feel an episode coming !!!
  • Repression - Can transvestism be repressed, i.e., controlled ? Yes. Now … how many TV/CD’s just had a fit ?!?!
  • Marriage - Classic mistake. Not marriage in itself, but many TV/CD’s think when they get married, that it will help them repress their cross-dressing desires. After all, you now have a lovely, beautiful wife; i.e., the object of your desires. Then why do the cross-dressing desires still exist ? Not only that, but does she have to leave her lingerie all over the place ? If you didn’t discuss your cross-dressing desires before marriage, I can almost assure you that your 'episodes’ will be increased due to the close proximity of her things. And doesn’t that make it even more appealing … SHE wore that … SHE looked so beautiful in that and now HER panties are on the bathroom floor and she’s not home. Am I wrong ?
  • Resources - When I first was curious about cross-dressing, what resources did I have available? Well, I was about 6-7 years old, with several sisters. My resources consisted of my sisters wardrobe, period. As I grew up, and so did they, my resources stayed the same until I moved out. Once out on my own, I had my own apartment & income, but what things did I have for cross-dressing? How many young, single TV’s are going to go shopping for their own lingerie ??? VERY few !!! Nowadays, because of mail order & internet commerce, I’m certain that is changing rapidly. So then, maybe you get married. You now have access to your wife’s clothing, but you know none of it fits, and you CAN’T stretch or ruin it !!! Bottom line, a cross-dresser’s resources are scarce until a certain time in life. I think that time, is now for me. I am happily married, my wife was forewarned about my transvestism before marriage, she decided to accept & participate as Mistress Marie. So now what ? Well, I am now in a position to experiment with things that I never had the resources to try before !!! THIS IS IMPORTANT !!! I always wanted to try High Heels, but never have been able to. Mistress Marie says buy them, and viola`, I now get to experience a fantasy that I have been harboring for most of my life !!! Do you realize how amazing a feeling that is ? This is a significant factor in my cross-dressing currently. I am at a point where I can try a corset, maid’s outfit, petticoats, wig, etc.; all types of things which I have never been in a position to do. This 'point’ in my life, has caused an increased desire to explore my transvestism.
  • 5) Previous Experience (Childhood, Etc.)

    (Now … we get down to the heart of the matter !!! I have reserved this section for last, even though MOST would argue it should be first. However, if this were the ONLY cause of transvestism, it wouldn’t be incurable or as complicated as it is !!!)

  • TS vs TV - Trans-Sexuals (true TS’s), conditions arise from a genetic cause, not psychological. However, Transvestism (Cross-Dressing), is not genetic (maybe a theorized factor), it is MAINLY a psychological issue, and at one time considered a mental illness. From the several THOUSAND surveys received, an overwhelming percentage have a re-callable memory event (or events) from childhood. It is simply amazing how cruel a mother / parent can be to a child. I’m sure most don’t intend to be cruel, but some do. Bottom line … you can NOT discuss transvestism / cross-dressing without analyzing your childhood.
  • Age 5-7 - It is VERY noteworthy that, as children, we seldom have vivid memories before the age of  5, and then, only of major events. A psychologists once told me that, between the age of 5-7, boys develop greatly. If you want to understand your cross-dressing behavior and/or causes, take a good look at yourself during those childhood years.
  • Re-callable Memory - I have several surveys where the TV/CD has no re-callable memory of the event in question, yet, a friend or relative has told them of the occurrence. Unfortunately, how many of us can ask a friend or relative about this type of issue ? Almost none ! It is my belief that MANY TV/CD’s that do not have a vivid childhood memory, were persuaded gradually, or early, so that a marked event does not appear to have occurred. Rule #1 for a hurt child, play down the injury so the child won’t panic. If an adult can successfully downplay an incident, it will NOT leave a mark in a child’s memory. My point in this factor is simple, just because you can not recall a childhood event, does NOT mean that it didnt occur.
  • Before Age 5 - I was surfing a web page, from a teenage CD in Germany. This person was a VERY attractive 15-16 year old 'girl’. In reality, it turns out that this person was born male, but the mother wanted a daughter. So, the mother always dressed the little boy in dresses, sent him to private schools as a girl, and gave the boy/girl hormones at the age of puberty. All of this led to what …. a boy that is/was a girl, yet, is/was NOT a transsexual! This is an example of an extreme case, where one factor can/did overwhelm all others. The boy … girl … is content & happy, as is the mother. The boy/girl says she was told by a relative that when first put into dresses, he cried for 2-3 days. This occurred ~ 2-3 years of age. After that, it was accepted, not knowing any better, and mom has taken care of everything since. I don’t know about you, but I was VERY UPSET upon reading that !!! It’s true, not a tv/cd fiction story. In the end, the boy/girl is very attractive & feminine, yet, I would like the mom to be responsible for her cruel & selfish act !!! The boy didn’t have a chance.
  • Parents - As the only boy in a houseful of girls, there is pressure from you parents, probably your Dad. I received an immense amount of pressure from my Father to be a man’. As a matter of fact, I think those are the first words my Dad ever said to me. You know the type, i.e., REAL MEN don’t cry, REAL MEN don’t show their feelings, REAL MEN don’t do dishes, etc. Everything revolved around what a REAL MAN should be, and anything less was 'sissyish’. I was to become the epitome of masculinity …. just like my Dad. I often think it was my Father’s own insecurities that pushed me so hard to 'be a man’. So obviously, REAL MEN don’t become transvestites … do they ?! Have you ever considered your own definition of a 'REAL MAN’. Maybe my Dad was so imbalanced towards an ideal masculine figure, and that’s why I am so imbalanced towards an ideal feminine figure ?? Where is Freud when you need him !!!
  • Siblings- As the only boy in a houseful of girls, your sisters can be an important influence. I’m thinking of all the surveys I’ve read which involved a sibling. Either the boy was curious, and was caught by his sister. Or maybe an older, domineering sister using feminization as leverage. The possibilities are endless. In my particular case, my sisters looked up to me as a masculine person. However, the availability of feminine clothing was abundant. therefore, they didn’t 'cause’ my crossdressing desires, but the easy access to feminine clothing definitely helped it to progress.
  • 6) Summary

  • Stress Relief - Did you know that many transvestites are successful business men ? Executives, CEO’s, Presidents, etc.. Sound weird ? Myth would have us as some pansy, limp wristed, minimum wage, daydreaming individual. So much for myth. I’m an executive who has always had a take charge attitude. It is this attitude which has helped me to succeed in life, and the same attitude that keeps me high strung. Always busy, always thinking, always on the go, etc.. I want to be the best, provide the best for my family, live in a nice home, send my kids to the best schools, buy my wife the best things, etc.. Still sound weird ? One of the key reasons I crossdress, if not THE reason I crossdress, is stress relief. Sound silly? Well, we all deal with stress in different ways. Some people drink, some are physically abusive, some gamble, some seek adrenaline rushes skydiving, etc. …. I crossdress. Sissy Cheri` is the exact opposite of my male identity … a sissy ! As Cheri`, I am extremely submissive and have no responsibilities, except to please my Mistress, (who is my wife & the woman I Love). The clothing, wig, makeup, etc., are all props which make my male identity disappear. Without the clothing, I wouldn’t be able to allow myself to become submissive. Let’s be serious, who can be aggressive, assertive, or domineering in pink silk panties and petticoat ? Not me. Without the pink silk panties, I am still me, not Sissy Cheri`. When dressed, I am truly on vacation, mentally, physically, and emotionally !!! But, rather than travel to Fantasy Island for my vacation, I have brought paradise to me in the form of ultra femininity. Remember … Paradise is a state of mind, not a physical place. And just like a vacation, it is temporary (periodic / episodic). After a short time sissified en-femme, I am relaxed and ready to resume my responsibilities; as Dad, Boss, Husband, etc.. Still sound silly?
  • Forced Feminization - I have been reading for years regarding the causes of transvestism. One thing that I have read over & over & over again, is that transvestites prefer 'Forced Crossdressing’ because it allows guilt transference !!! The theory is that if we are forcibly crossdressed, then our guilt diminishes, because we had no choice in the matter. From our Survey results, let me state a fact … an overwhelming percentage of us PREFER FORCED FEMINISATION !!! (Myself included … if not leading the pack !!!). On that I agree with the 'experts’ … however … I have a different theory as to the real reason we like being forced to dress as women. To some, this may sound so simple, and to others, it may sound profound. Do you know what BDSM means ? Until recently, only S&M were known or heard of, and often as a dark/evil thing. BDSM represents 3 different relationships … B&D (Bondage & Discipline), D&S (Dominance & Submission), S&M (Sadism & Masochism). Depending on the TV’s personal fantasy, it could involve all three categories, yet, I believe that most TV/CD’s crossdress based on a D&S relationship (Dominant/Submissive or maybe Dominatrix/Sissy). I will agree with the psychologists, that there is a transference that occurs, however, rather than transferring guilt, I believe it is a power exchange, not unlike a 'normal’ D/S session. Again, simply a theory of mine; but I can use myself as an example. I feel guilt over my crossdressing, fact. When Mistress Marie forcibly feminizes me, I LOVE it, yet, I do not feel any less guilt, fact. When we begin, we go through a power shift … I stop being the 'man’ of the house, and she becomes the 'Mistress’ of the house. It is a transference of power, a real power shift. True, it involves props, but is that unusual ? My transvestic desires also involve a B&D relationship. The feminine clothing in itself is a type of bondage. The feeling of being 'trapped in silk & satin’ is thrilling !
  • The Clothes Make The Man - Have you ever heard that before ? Of course, we all have. Does it apply to crossdressing ? ABSOLUTELY ! How can I be so sure ? An amazing thing has been stated, several times. When discussing transvestic desires, i.e., I want you to be my Leather clad, whip wielding Mistress & I want to be a silk & satin bound sissy …. an amazing statement seems to be prevalent. How many women have a MUCH easier time dealing with themselves being a Leather clad Mistress as compared to your husband being a sissified french maid ? How many women would state, I’ll be your Mistress, but why do you need to be a sissy ? Does the clothing make them feel Dominant, yet the clothing wouldn’t make us feel submissive ? Is a Dominatrix more accepted by society than the Sissy French Maid Transvestite ? ABSOLUTELY !!! Again, why is that ? How can the clothing be relevant to one side of the D/s relationship, and not to the other ? As a transvestite, it is required on both sides for the fantasy to be 'real’.
  • - Sissy Cheri`

    sissystephaniecd

    That explains a lot

    kaliesfemmeworld

    Interesting read. Thank you

    mellienovember-deactivated20210

    Danni - Chapter 1

    This kid looks like a perfect candidate for the program. He just turned 18, but he’s only 5’6”, slight frame. No family, living on his own. Fits the psychological profile to a T. Friendly, a little guarded, but ultimately should be quite malleable. You know what we’re looking for. This program has really specific requirements.

    Okay, he checks out. We’ve got a green light. Initiate the app.

    Danny got a text from his friend Roger. “Dude. You have to check out this new game. Puzzle solving, psychedelic imagery, really cool music. I’ve been playing it for 6 hours straightit’s so addictive!”

    Sure, why not? Danny downloaded the app. His friend was right—this was an obsessively cool game. For the next week, he found himself playing it day and night. The music was really complex, like there were layers and subtle counterpoints—or were those barely audible vocals?

    It was really fascinating and challenging. He would find himself drifting off the sleep with his earbuds still in, and the images still spinning behind his closed eyelids. He found himself barely finding time for his job or his friends. But he couldn’t help himself. It just felt...so good to play it.

    His second week into his new obsession, he unlocked a new feature in his game. Live player interactions, and bonus packages. The game was actually going to deliver prizes to his home! How cool was that?

    His screen came to life, and a gorgeous woman wearing sci fi goggles was talking to him. Around the edges of the video screen, and intense flashing strobe pattern captured Danny’s gaze as she spoke to him.

    “Congratulations, Danny. You’re the first player to make it this far.”

    “Wow, that’s amazing! For real? I know my friends have been playing longer than me. But I have been kind of logging a lot of time on it. But...wait. Did you just call me ‘Danny’? That isn’t my username. How do you...” His voice trailed off as the strobing effect changed. His eyes glazed over, and his mouth hung open mid-sentence.

    “You don’t need to worry about that,” said the beautiful woman in the goggles. “Acknowledge, Danny.”

    Slowly, Danny responded. “I...don’t need to worry about that.”

    “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

    “I don’t need to worry about anything.”

    “You don’t need to think at all.”

    “I don’t need to think at all.”

    “Good, Danny. Now, listen. Your first prize package will arrive today. You will receive a supply of delicious easy to mix supplemental nutrition shakes, and also some cosmetic products. We know you’re going to just love them.”

    “I’m going to just love them.”

    She continued to give him instructions, but they seemed to go in one ear and out the other, because an hour or so later he woke up from a nap and couldn’t remember any of the details. He just knew he was excited to start receiving his packages.

    Danny had been part of the special prize program for a month now, and it was just terrific. The supplemental shakes were so easy to make, and cut down on his grocery bills considerably. They really were delicious—nearly as addictive as the game app. And while he’d been a little amused that the packages included cosmetics, he was kind of finding the chapping protection for his lips really helpful.

    The special game insignia necklace is was a fun touch as well, and he appreciated how much geek cred he was going to earn by wearing it every day.

    He bumped into Roger at the local pizza place a few weeks later. Roger did a double take when he saw him. “Danny? Um, dude, that’s...kind of a new look for you, isn’t it? Is there something we should talk about?”

    “What do you mean, man?”

    “Well, I mean, you’re wearing lipstick and a tank top, and I’d say you’re growing man-boobs, but really, this don’t look manly. They just look like boobs. And hey, don’t get me wrong. The look works for you! I mean, dude...you’re kinda hot, in a, uh, femme sort of way. But I did not know this was a direction you were going in.”

    “What? Fuck you, man. This is all game gear! You know that great game app you got me started playing. I’m really into it, and I’ve been getting prize packages and shit. Didn’t you ever unlock the advance levels?”

    “That game? Oh, man, right. Nah, I stopped playing that weeks ago. It ended up doing what a lot of those games do, just started getting harder and harder to advance, and they started trying to squeeze me for in-app purchases to move further. I was like, fuck that. I’ve got better things to do with my money, so I just dropped it.”

    “Wait, seriously?” Danny was perplexed. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never had any trouble. The game’s challenging and all, but I don’t think it’s ever tried to sell me anything. Like, the opposite. I’m getting free stuff from them all the time!”

    Roger looked at his friend, a little concerned. “That’s what you meant by ‘game gear’? They’re sending you makeup and, what, falsies? That’s...I dunno. That’s messed up. I mean, dude. Look at yourself. I almost didn’t recognize you. They are sending you packages? For free? That sounds...kinda sketch, to be honest.”

    Roger paid for his pizza and left. Danny stared after him for a few minutes, uncertain.

    When he got home, Danny did in fact take a careful look at himself in the mirror. Was Roger right? Had he been changing without realizing it? How was that even possible? And had Roger really stopped playing the game? It was Danny’s favorite thing in the world, but Roger had dropped it with no concern. Danny hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t appearing on the leaderboards. In fact, he didn’t know anyone on the leaderboards. And despite the “live player interaction” feature, the only person he’d talked to was the woman with the goggles, who clearly was part of the game staff, not a fellow player.

    He looked closer. No, Roger really did have a point. Danny looked very femme. His look had changed radically since he’d started getting the packages. What the hell was happening to him? Whatever it was, he realized he needed to stop playing this game app, and throw out these packages and stop accepting them.

    About half an hour after Danny deleted the game app from his phone, he heard the door to his apartment being unlocked and opened from outside. Somebody was breaking into his home! What the hell had he gotten himself into?

    He sat on his couch, frozen in fear, watching. Into his living room came the beautiful woman wearing goggles. She held up her phone, and a familiar strobe pattern flashed in his eyes.

    “Hello, Danny,” she said. “I’ve come to check on you. You deleted your app. Are you all right?”

    All of Danny’s fear and outrage had evaporated when the light pattern hit his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said dully. “I saw my friend Roger tonight.”

    “I see,” she replied, and tapped her phone, resulting in a different flash pattern and familiar music playing. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Danny explained in a listless monotone what Roger had said.

    His handler was silent for a moment. “That was unfortunate. I suppose we’ll have to advance to phase One Beta ahead of schedule.”

    She placed earrings on Danny’s ears and snapped, “Danni with an ‘I’activate.”

    Danni’s eyes glazed over and her posture instantly shifted. “Activated,” she replied, her voice an octave higher.

    “What is your name?” asked her handler.

    “Danni with an ‘I’.”

    “What is your sex?”

    No hesitation. “I am a girl.”

    “Repeat.”

    “I am a girl.”

    “Good. How long have you been a girl?”

    “I have always been a girl.”

    “And what about your friend, Roger?”

    “I don’t know anyone named Roger.”

    “Again.”

    “I don’t know anyone named Roger.”

    “Good.” The programming had been implanted deeply enough that he wasn’t going to bolt or reach out for help at this moment—but the process wasn’t nearly far enough along that the organization could depend on that.

    “You will re-install the app on your phone, and spend tonight reinforcing your conditioning, Danni. Tomorrow, you will receive instructions with a location. You will report there immediately to begin the next phase of your training. When I leave, you will remember nothing of this conversation, or the earlier events of this day. Do you understand?”

    “Yes.”

    “And?”

    “I will follow instructions.”

    “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

    “I don’t need to worry about anything.”

    “You don’t need to think at all.”

    “I don’t need to think at all.”

    “Good. You’re a valuable investment, Danni. We have big plans for you.”

    (Please like and reblog if you enjoy, and want to see the next chapter. Cheers, Mellie)

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    I'd ride them all.

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    Suck an fuck all of them and swallow every single drop of hot cum loads. Then all over again

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    I am going for one hell of a Ride

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    Wow..What an amazing experience this would be

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    Have the hottest time of my life wow0

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    On my knees with my mouth open !!

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    SUPERRR SEXY I suck COCK FUCK ME ASS I LOVE TRANS GIRLS COCK I AM FROM GREECE

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    Ride and marry

    The Visit - Part 1

    I knocked gently on the door of the house, a large shopping bag in hand, and, as I had expected, she answered quickly, greeting me dressed in a flowing, floral dress and looking very feminine in dark stockings and heels. I felt a little awkward as I stepped in and shed my raincoat, obliged to be wearing warm outer clothes on this typical blustery day, dry but with a chance of rain. 

    A mid-morning cup of tea or coffee is a great medium for introductory conversation and for smoothing any tensions that might exist, so while I went to change in a side room, Katie prepared some tea for us. My greatest concern had been that I was sure that I was somewhat older than Katie might think, my salt and pepper hair being the obvious sign, and that that might detract from the tone of our first meeting, but she had shown no great surprise, perhaps knowing from our respective blogs that we were similarly inclined and both able. 

    I was already wearing lingerie, though still needing to pad my bra. I prefer garter belts to hold up my stockings, so had to pull those up and tighten them after my early morning journey. I had chosen a style of dress similar to that of Katie’s, long, floral and very full. I had checked that it twirled nicely, rising easily and potentially revealing much. I had chosen a short, Arctic-blond wig and some simple costume jewelry, but having thoroughly male facial features, I was not about to take time to change that, being largely in vain anyway. 

    I returned to the kitchen, making a little twirl as I entered, obviously to Katie’s pleasure. Rather than sit at the table, we took our cups and accompanying biscuits into the living room to sit more cosily on the sofa together. At first we made light conversation about many things but talk gradually turned to clothes and more intimate things. It is interesting how early in life the desire to dress as a female can begin. I have always envied women their wonderful variety of both underclothes and outer clothes and 

    as a teen would love to have worn a soft, flowing ball dress and copious petticoats that were the fashion of the day at the semi-formal school dances, rather than my one, off-the-rack “Sunday” suit. As a teen, I poked around in my aunts lingerie drawers, among others, and revelled in the softness and fullness of the knickers they wore. Though having a collection of panties of all styles, I still really like the full, open-leg feel of silky French knickers, and told Katie I had chosen those for today. Knowing that Katie often wore no panties, I was hoping she had some on today, partly because of the pleasure one has in gently removing them. Laughingly, she told me she did and pulled up the hem of her dress to give me a glimpse. That simple move seemed to release both of us, and our relatively lady-like morning was suddenly over. We both put down our cups. 

    There being no particularly refined way to begin a sexual encounter, I placed a hand on Katie’s knee and slowly slid it up her thigh, pushing the edge of her skirt with it. She parted her legs a little, receptively. Brushing her leg above her stocking top, my hand moved onto the front of her panties, closing gently on the soft shapes beneath them. She widened her legs a little more as I began to slowly circle my hand around, and I felt the response beneath almost immediately. Very soon there was a nicely stiffening bulge her now taught panties. 

    I felt Katie’s hand on my leg, pulling up the edge of my skirt. She playfully twanged my garter in passing and then closed over my already awake cock, sliding it back and forth beneath the silky, loose fabric. Very quickly a tent was raised. We both sat back and enjoyed playing with each other for a while. 

    I slid a finger under Katie’s leg elastic, pulled the edge of her panties over the bulge, and her hardened cock leaped out gleefully. I gripped its shaft loosely and rubbed my hand up and down, soon coaxing her cock to became thoroughly aroused. It was time to change position, so, briefly interrupting the proceedings, I moved to kneel on the sofa so that I could lower my head towards Katie’s lap and come down to lightly kiss the tip of 

    her stiff cock before enclosing its reddened bulb in my mouth and sliding down its shaft until almost at its base. I heard Katie give a little sigh. Her hand returned under my skirt and discovered that my cock had already dropped out of the edge of my loose knickers. She gripped it and began slowly kneading it, just enough to keep it wide awake. 

    Too be blunt, I enjoy cock-sucking, and my focus was wholly on the pleasure of rising and falling on that stiff, wet cock, running my tongue teasingly around the base of its bulb before plunging down on it again until my lips reached the wiry pubic hair at its base. (I recall, as a young teen, being reprimanded for putting a whole sticky cake in my mouth instead of nibbling at it politely, but a capacious mouth has its advantages.) Drawing my lips up, I sucked at the shaft until it almost popped out of my mouth and then teased its head again. While working her cock, I wriggled my hand under the edge of her panties and pushed my finger into her crack. Katie lifted herself slightly to help and my finger found her ass. Gently pressing and circling her asshole, I felt Katie stiffen and heard her groan. 

    Before too long I sensed that I was edging Katie close to bursting point and raised my head enough to ask her whether she wanted to cum in my mouth or my ass. She pushed my head down on her in answer, saying that we had all day to play. I increased the pace and tightened the grip of my lips and Katie gasped in response. Then I felt her pushing her cock urgently forwards and moments later she came, pumping her warm cum into my mouth, her cock pulsing between my lips. I swallowed in unison with her, and as the flow subsided, sucked and pulled at her cock to pull every last drip from it. 

    Katie’s body relaxed and I raised my head to grin at her, so glad that she had clearly enjoyed my efforts, and then straightened up, kneeling at her side. I realized then that she was still kneading my cock under my skirt and asked her cheekily what she wanted to do with it. She said she knew exactly and shifting position a little, she lifted my skirt with both hands and ducked under it. She pulled me towards her and I felt one hand cup my 

    balls and the other grab the base of my cock. Then she slid it deep into her mouth. From my viewpoint, all I could see was her head bouncing under my skirt, but by vigorously sucking my cock and playing with my hanging balls, she very quickly got me fully aroused again. 

    I was expecting Katie to do the same as I had done for her, but as soon as I was fully erect, she withdrew her head from under my skirt and announced boldly that she was ready to fuck. She stood up and beckoned me to do so too. Then she turned to face the sofa, bent forwards, hiking up her full skirt as she did so, and braced her straightened arms on the back of the sofa. I took the waistband of her already askew panties and slowly dragged them down enough to give me the very view I had seen on her blog many times. What an inviting shaped bum it was, too. 

    A little trick that I had learned from the infrequent occasions I had been presented with such an awaiting spectacle, was to have a small tube of lubricant tucked into my bra, which was otherwise filled with rolled panties. I found it and quickly spread some over my throbbing cock, then with a finger, applied some to Katie’s dark-pink asshole, inserting it just a little way. Then I placed the tip of my cock to her ass and pushing forwards and backwards very slowly, eased the tip into the tight opening. Katie did her part to relax the muscle, and to my mild surprise, once past the constriction, my cock slid into her with ease. She was either well used to this or used a large dildo quite frequently. I pushed slowly in until I could go no further and Katie let out a long groan, of pleasure rather than discomfort, my cock being neither particularly large in girth or length. 

    Anxious not to hurt, I set a slow but steady rhythm and slid my full length in and out. With one hand I reached around to the front and found her cock, now limp. Yet, on fondling it I felt her ass suddenly tighten and she groaned more loudly. I had been well aroused for a while and did not last as long as I had hoped. Before long I felt my cock jerk a little and then I was pumping my load into Katie and groaning myself. I held still for a little as my cock began to deflate, and on gently pulling out, had the 

    pleasure of seeing some of my cum dribble out of Katie’s ass and run down her crack onto her balls. 

    I pulled Katie’s panties up, tucked myself back into my knickers and we both stood up and brushed our skirts down. We both agreed that that had been a great start to the day but that we had had enough for time being, so we retreated to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Katie went to clean up a little and returned to say she would rustle up a snack lunch while I did the same. She added that we should go for a run in the country after lunch, visit some of her favourite places and make it a photo shoot together. 

    The weather was improving out there and that sounded fun, so I tidied up, put on some different underwear and put a few other things aside to take. Our activities in the afternoon would continue the story………… 

    The Visit - Part 2

    While we sat in the kitchen having a snack lunch, Katie and I planned our afternoon drive into the country. We would have to leave the house and get into the car, and for me at any rate, that would mean wearing my regular male outer clothes over my lingerie. Changing into a dress or skirt would be relatively easy once out of town. Katie knew the area well and we would certainly be going to her favourite haunts where she flounces around by the roadway and lifts her skirt to her camera, with and without her panties. We decided to play it safe and leave together as guys.

    What should we wear, long or short length hems, dresses or skirts and tops, pantyhose or stockings? Should we dress similarly or look different?  At least part of the fun is in planning, and we decided to make our own choices and surprise the other. I had been able to bring only a selection of things in the shopping bag I brought to Katie’s door, but I had a gym bag of other things in my rental car. Katie went upstairs and I returned to the back room to put my trousers, shirt, socks and pullover back on over my undies. After our shenanigans this morning, I had kept my garter belt and stockings but exchanged my marked, wetted French knickers for a pair of full pink, lacy panties, the rear panel of which was quite transparent. This afternoon I would put aside my longer floral dress for a knee length, pleated teal blue skirt and a white, long sleeved blouse. I was so absorbed that I nearly forgot to take the rolled panties out of my bra and flatten the cups so that it was not obvious under my male clothes. Katie had told me that she used small balloons filled with water. That sounded like a good idea for size consistency and shape, but I wondered both about transporting them and whether one might burst – in the passion of things as it were. 

    Bags in hand, we left the house and after picking up my other bag from my car, got into Katie’s car. I would have been happy to use my rental car and save Katie petrol, but she knew the roads well and I did not. I noticed that Katie carried a “man bag” which, much like mine, was little different from a rather plain female handbag and could easily pass as one. We drove out of town, chatting, and before too long were following a minor road through farmlands and small patches of woodland. Around one long curve, Katie slowed and I saw the lay-by she has often used as a photo location on her blog. With a long curve in both directions, it was ideal, the sound of approaching vehicles being heard well before they appeared. As Katie said, there is time to pop back into the car before traffic passes. Cyclists? That could be more tricky.

    We parked well into the layby so that the doors on one side of the car were well shielded from view. I got out, opened both doors, and got my bag from the back seat. With Katie promising not to look, I quickly changed into my pleated skirt and top, slipped on low heels, and got my wig as straight as I could without a mirror.  As I slid back into the passenger seat Katie gave me an approving look and squeezed my knee. Then she got out and came around the car and changed while I looked steadily forwards at the road. When she said she was ready, I looked up and to my astonishment, Katie was wearing a light blue dirndl skirt, about the same length as mine.  What a coincidence in our respective choices. Her top was dark blue and she wore dark nylons on her long legs. With her wig she looked a very convincing female.

    Beckoning me to join her, Katie rescued her phone camera from her bag. I already had mine in my purse, a small point-and-shoot with a self timer and remote. I knew that Katie had artfully got her phone in a magnetic cover so that it would mount almost anywhere on the car exterior. I carried a mini folding tripod that had a Velcro strap and could, with some fiddling, be mounted almost anywhere. We mounted our cameras on the car, mine on the door handle. We both have hundreds of photos of ourselves but this was an opportunity to have photos together, but how risque we would get remained to be seen. 

    First, we stood side by side and took our “respectable” photos, front and back view, and then another facing each other and holding hands. Then we both faced the cameras and lifted our skirts, can-can style, to show our underwear off. That was followed by us turning our backs, bending forwards and hiking our skirts up and over to display our lingerie bottoms. I hadn’t really been able to see Katie’s underthings clearly, so knelt on one knee and lifted the front of her skirt. Her dark stockings climbed high up her long legs and were held by a cute black lacy garter belt that could be seen through her matching black panties, sufficiently sheer to show her cock tucked in front at repose. To set up a photo, I swung my knee open to reveal a camera view up my skirt and placed my hand under Katie’s crotch, unable to resist giving a little squeeze to which I felt her respond. Now I was in position, the next move seemed obvious, so I knelt on both knees in front of Katie, yanked my skirt up on my back to expose the very sheer back panel of my pink lacy panties, and buried my face between her legs and nuzzled her stirring cock with my lips, through the thin nylon. Cameras clicked. 

    We had both been listening for vehicles and I was hoping that Katie was not too distracted from keeping an eye out for noiseless cyclists. So far so good. It was Katie’s turn to create a photo pose. She had me bend over, side view to the cameras, lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties just enough and then (her skirt lifted I presume) pressed herself into my bum. From the camera perspective she might have had her cock up me, and, bluntly, I rather wished she had been up there. 

    My turn. Since things were getting more risque, I had us face the cameras and, standing side by side, skirts lifted, placed Katie’s hand on the front of my panties as I put my hand on hers. Both of us, perhaps instinctively, proceeded to gently massage the other. The next logical thing was to tuck a finger under Katie’s panty leg and let her cock fall out. Katie immediately did the same to me. Then we posed, holding each other and both feeling the other rise to the occasion. Next photo showed our now stiff cocks. Katie turned me sideways, knelt down and virtually swallowed my cock, pressing her lips into me. Photo. Then she pulled back so that just the tip was between her lips. Photo.  Wishing we were doing more than posing, and rather than do exactly the same to Katie, I turned her to face the cameras and slid round behind her and sat down with my back to hers. Pushing her legs apart enough, I leaned back, head between her legs and pulled her cock down and into my mouth. I took as much of her cock into my mouth as I could, her testicles dangling down my chin. Photo. Then, as she had done, lowered my head so that my mouth just held her cock by the tip. I knew it would bounce up if I let go.

    Whether we would actually have progressed to full sex in that not so safe layby, I will never know, because our indecent activities were interrupted by the noise of vehicles coming. I dived into the front seat of the car to adopt the appearance of the passenger waiting for the driver (who might have stopped for a pee in the hedgerow), and Katie disappeared into the back seat. For no apparent reason, traffic intermittently continued to come in both directions. We waited a short while and then  Katie suggested that it was time to move on.

    As we drove in the direction of the next stop, a more secluded laneway that ended at a gate across a footpath leading into the woods, we came up upon a pub, a solitary building on a straight stretch of road. Though intrigued by the odd location, my immediate and rash suggestion was to stop and enjoy a beer in the back garden, as was advertised on the sign. I was about to back peddle on the idea, wondering if I could bring myself to do that, but Katie slowed and turned in to the parking lot in which, surprisingly for a sunny afternoon, only three other vehicles were parked. I was in a bit of a dither, but got out and followed Katie closely through the vine covered archway into the garden. It was beautiful, and broken into several sections by ornamental hedges and bushes. We aimed at a table sitting in a quiet alcove at the edge of a small orchard, the only other occupants in the garden giving us a short glance before turning back to their conversation. I was not nearly as convincing a female in appearance or movement as Katie, but they had not appeared to notice or to mind. We sat at the small table, our heads and shoulders visible to the rest of the garden, and enjoyed the moment. Katie asked me what I’d like to drink and I told her that I prefer a good dark beer. She confidently walked off across the lawns to the back door of the pub. I watched her motion and told myself that I had to practice that subtle feminine walk. Katie returned with two pints and sat opposite me. The publican had apparently showed no surprise but had winked as he handed her change. 

    The beer was good and refreshing and we chatted quietly at first. But, our interrupted photo shoot and the beer soon turned our talk back to consider what photos we had not managed to take. I slipped a hand under the table but could only reach Katie’s knee, so I slipped a shoe off and pushed my stockings foot up under her skirt and between her legs so that I could wiggle my toes against her crotch. She went on chatting, pretending not to notice but quickly gave up, spreading her legs enough to allow my foot to massage her and leaning back from the table. I felt her harden quickly. She reached under the table briefly to pull aside her panties and we went on chatting, my foot bouncing her hard cock against her thighs. A second beer was needed and Katie was not in a state to walk to the bar. My turn! I retrieved my shoe and trying hard to emulate her confidence, took my purse and walked towards  the door, nerves jangling. Behind the bar was a middle aged lady, perhaps the publican’s wife. She looked at me without showing anything of what she might be thinking and I asked for the beers. As she placed the glasses in front of me and handed me change, she distinctly addressed me as “sir”. As I walked back to our table, I ruefully concluded that I had a long way to go before passing as a woman sufficiently enough to be called “maam”. 

    Katie had moved to the seat beside mine, perhaps to change her view. But no, soon after I sat down, her hand stole across to my lap and started ruffling up my skirt into a bunch so that she could slip her hand between my thighs. It was at that point another couple came out of the pub to seek a place in the garden. To my relief, they chose a table away from us, glancing only briefly in our direction. Katie’s hand went down the front of my panties and I must have gasped because she giggled and grabbed my cock firmly. Within a short time she had me very hard and trying not to show that anything unusual was going on in our corner of the garden. She rubbed me up and down vigorously and I wondered whether she was going to make me come under the table. I warned her I was getting close and at the last minute she stopped, leaving me hard and throbbing. What a tease. By the time we had downed our second beer I had shrunk enough to tuck myself in decently, and we took our leave. I think I walked with a slight lean forward to be sure that no bump betrayed my condition. As soon as we got in the car Katie reached over to pull up my skirt and continue to rub me through my panties while she drove away, announcing that we were off to the more secluded stop she knew of and that there I was going to get thoroughly fucked. I felt a thrill of anticipation stir my loins at this bold ultimatum. 

    Our destination was a country lane from which a bridle path curved off into the woods, a gate at its junction with a small parking area. Katie parked across the gate shielding it fairly well from the limited view from the road. She had been playing with me on and off on the short drive and I had an aching bulge in my panties. However, as we got out, Katie lead me to the gate, commanding me to bend over and hold the middle bar. I did so and immediately felt my skirt pulled up and over my back. Katie pulled my panties down to my ankles, then telling me to spread my legs apart. This was a much more dominant Katie than I had seen so far. I had anticipated, after this morning’s activities, that it would be my turn to be drilled this afternoon, so while changing before we left the house I had inserted some warming lubricant in my ass. But, as I felt my buttocks being spread and waited for the feel of the tip of her cock exploring my asshole, I felt, instead, her nose push into my crack and her tongue flipping around my ass. My whole body tensed and wanted to squirm, but Katie had a firm grip on my hips and I groaned loudly and continuously as her tongue pushed and prodded at my back door. While not the most sanitary foreplay, I knew I was as clean as I could be on setting out for the afternoon and was amused at the irony of the fact that my lubricant happened to be strawberry flavoured. I didn’t think on this for long, quickly lost in the wonderful sensation. Katie reached under and started vigourously massaging my already wound-up cock up and down. I know I groaned and whimpered and desperately tried to squirm by bottom around in my ecstasy. 

    I came, more powerfully than usual after all this stimulation, and felt myself pumping heavily, Katie’s hand still holding me firmly. She squeezed my cock, milking the last drop out and finally stopped rimming my ass as she let go. I’m sure I gasped in relief. I felt Katie’s hand wiping my warm cum off around my asshole, and then the expected pressure of the head of her swollen cock pushing at my entrance. I suspect that she had made herself really hard with her other hand as she was rimming and milking me. Being well lubricated, her cock slid smoothly in as far as she could push it. I  gasped again. But, once inside, Katie unexpectedly went at me hammer and tongs, and in seconds I found myself being bounced violently and had to hang on the gate as firmly as I could. The sound of Katie’s hips slapping against my buttocks, her heavy breathing, the creaking of the gate and my loud moans, made a memorable sound bite. Her rhythm faltered, and pushed fully in, I felt her come and come and come before finally relaxing her grip on me. Katie slowly withdrew and I felt a flood of cum running down my testicles and down my leg onto my stocking top. Katie pulled my panties up, tucking my now limp cock in, and then pulled my skirt down in place again. I shakily let go of the gate and stood up, releasing a further flow of cum that soaked the gusset of my panties. I turned and saw Katie standing, smiling, her panties still round her thighs and her cock, still semi erect, shining with a mix of lubricant and cum.  I told her that I felt thoroughly well fucked and, still trying to recover my wits, stood hanging on to the gate for a minute while Katie put herself together again too. 

    Then I noticed that she had her camera hanging from her wrist and asked her whether she had taken a photo of us. Indeed she had taken several, including a video pointing down at her cock as she had drilled my bottom and a close-up of her cum leaking out of my ass. Not, I hoped, for public consumption on her blog. She assured me they would stay private and that she would send me copies. 

    In due course, we changed back into our regular male outer clothes, though I felt I had to replace my wet panties with a dry pair before driving back to the house and risking a wet patch on the back of my jeans. There had been no traffic to worry about while we had been engaged in sex, or at least none that we had been aware of. So, it was a reminder of how lucky we had been when a van turned in our lane and parked a little way from us. A man, clearly dressed for walking, emerged with a big dog and, nodding good afternoon to us, and probably wondering why two blokes would be parked in this secluded lane, passed through the gate and disappeared down the path, his dog running joyfully ahead of him. What, we both wondered, had he arrived less than ten minutes ago. Oh my, what a thought.

    Life impinged upon us in the fact that ‘Katie’ (I never did ask about his real name) had to pick up his wife from the station around 5.00pm. There would be no time for me to clean up at the house and barely enough for Katie to cover the tracks of having had a visitor. We agreed to meet again on the next Saturday and get up to no good again. I was in the UK for three weeks, staying with a cousin, and other than some visiting relatives and a few business calls, was a free agent. Arriving back near the house, Katie dropped me by my car, parked in a nearby side street, and we both admitted that we were eagerly looking forward to the next time. I drove away, my body still very aware of my recent thorough drilling and my mind quietly fantasizing about what we would get up to next time, and imagining things which were naughty enough to make my tired dick stir a little under my jeans. 

    The Country Barn

    It was Saturday and, as arranged the previous week, I set out to visit Katie again. I had chosen lingerie to wear under my outer clothes and as I sat down in the driver’s seat, I could feel my rear suspenders stretch along the sides of my buttocks, covered by my lacy, powder blue knickers, but still visible through the flimsy nylon material. The knickers were part of a set, so my bra and garter belt matched perfectly, and I had found a pair of light blue stockings after a lot of online searching. My bra was flattened as much as possible, but I had detected the two bumps under my shirt when I checked in the mirror. However, I was not planning to be close to anyone until I got to Katie’s. I had packed a bag with a selection of other lingerie and outerwear and also a toy or two in case we found a use for them. 

    My journey was supposed to be uninterrupted but out of nowhere a police car appeared behind me, lights flashing. I knew that I hadn’t been speeding, so obediently drew to the shoulder of the road, rolled my window down and waited. The officer came up to the window and greeted me with a friendly ‘Good morning’. Did I know that one of my brake lights was not working? I did not. The officer asked for my licence and insurance as was routine, and did not comment as I showed the rental vehicle papers and handed him my overseas driving licence.  As he was checking these, I saw his eyes giving my shirtfront more than a passing glance and saw him looking at my thighs. I glanced down and showing clearly through the taught material of my trousers were the bumps of my front suspenders. I felt my face flush with embarrassment, but he calmly went on to tell me to get the light fixed as soon as possible and preferably today. Then he sauntered back to his patrol car. I knew he had seen that I was wearing feminine underthings, but, of course, it was of no concern to him. Relieved, I drove on.

    I parked a little way from Katie’s place, took my bag and walked to her door, but before I could knock, the door opened and there stood Katie, welcoming me effusively. She looked stunning, dressed in a long, peach coloured dress that flowed and swirled as she moved. Her simple make-up, well coiffed wig and costume jewellery completed her appearance and as I followed her into the house my attention was drawn to the old-fashioned seams of her nude stockings and black high heels. I could never compete with that, but then, unlike Katie, I had never truly attempted to pass as a female in public, other than our visit to the country pub beer garden last weekend, still being very much in the closet. 

    No sooner had I sat down at the kitchen table, expecting that we would spend the next hour or two in the house, than Katie announced that I should get changed and be ready to go out shopping with her. Shopping! Oh my goodness, I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to protest, but Katie hurried me into the back room and added that, when ready, she would be teaching me a little about make-up before we left. Obediently and a little stunned I opened my bag and took off my outer clothes. I stuffed some socks in my flattened bra to give me the 38C look, not too exaggerated and reasonably natural for my build. Catching sight of myself in the long mirror behind the door, I actually thought I looked not too bad in my choice of lingerie, though my stockings needed pulling up my thighs as usual after driving.  I considered what Katie was dressed in and decided to wear a full slip, beautifully lacy along the bodice and along the hem. Over this I chose a long sleeved, ruffled white blouse which was opaque enough to be decent but was still filmy enough to more than hint at the lace underneath and looked very feminine rather than business like. I matched it with a just below the knee, fairly full medium grey skirt of material light enough to have a similar swirling motion when walking. I had my short Arctic blond, blue streaked wig (my Amanda Jane wig), the same old black low heels that I could walk normally in and a rather striking necklace that I had found in a charity shop. I took my white rimmed dark glasses (my ‘security blanket’) with me back to the kitchen and performed a little runway turn for Katie. 

    She had a box of make-up items on the table and I was instructed to sit down. Having no make-up skills, it was quite interesting to sit and be made up by Katie, whose look of concentration suggested this process was quite challenging. She told me she was just keeping it simple but that it would make a difference. When she stood back and handed me a mirror, I was very hesitant to look but when I did I had to agree that it did make a difference. Nothing, in my opinion, could possibly mask my masculine features, but I had to admit that what she had done took the edge off without making me look ridiculous. I was impressed.

    So, we were ready to go.  Still rather uncertain about actually stepping outside, I retrieved my bag and stepped through the front door trying to appear confident and sliding into the passenger seat of Katie’s car as if I wore a skirt every day. Katie drove off, heading, she told me, to a suburban mall in which there was a lingerie shop which she had found to be transgender friendly. Arriving, we drew up to the curb in front of a shop window chock full with a colourful display of underthings, the kind of window display at which I would find it hard not to stop and stare, pulse rate elevating as I did so. Still thinking of the venture as a potential “ordeal”, I got out and aimed straight at the door, Katie taking her time behind me. Once inside, the display of racks and shelves was such that I was left gaping – well, not literally open-mouthed, but it felt like it. A middle aged lady was approaching and Katie, whom I think was recognized from previous visits, responded to her offer of assistance by saying that she had come to find some sexy lingerie for her friend. I know that I blushed, taken aback by this bold statement that caused the lady to look at me. Her look was kindly, not critical, and I reasoned that she would not be assisting in the shop if not accustomed and perhaps even sympathetic to cross dressers such as ourselves.

    Katie was moving purposefully down the aisle with the assistant, so I followed. They stopped by a display of sets of bras, panties and garter belts, colourful, lacy but practical, unlike the flimsy garments typically sold in a XXX store. Katie whisked a set off the rack and held it up high in front of me, asking what colours I liked best. I actually prefer pastel colours rather than the bright red and black of ‘dress-up’ lingerie, though royal blue, yellow and green would also be on my list. I told Katie this, probably in too soft a voice, betraying my discomfort. That, Katie was determined to change and she reached for a rack of full size frilly French knickers, picking a shocking pink pair. Taking the waistband in both hands, she proceeded to hold them against my hips, announcing that they would suit me well. Gathering that she was trying to ‘break the ice’ and help me be less nervous, I cooperated by taking the knickers from her,  holding them up against me and giving a little wiggle. Both Katie and the lady assistant laughed and from that point we had great fun, joshing and overacting as we explored the shop together. 

    Agreeing with Katie’s assessment and holding the pink knickers as my first potential purchase, we moved on and sorted through a collection of full length and half slips of a variety not found in the big box stores which seem to cater only to white, black and beige preferring customers. We both found treasures there, I selecting both a long, pale grey, white lace trimmed slip and a very short pink slip that would fit under my short skirts. And so the collection I carried over our arms grew.

    Just when I thought we were on the way to the front desk to purchase our finds, Katie commented to  our assistant, far too loudly, that we needed to look at the selection of crotch less panties, further drawing attention by declaring that we could put them to good use later today.  I’m sure I turned crimson, but Katie clearly thought it highly amusing. There were indeed several designs of crotch less undies, ranging from thongs to full panties with convenient parts missing. These I thought far more erotic than the tiny one’s which left everything on display, and I picked a white pair with lace trim around both a rear and front window, the latter positioned so that one could be tucked or protruding with just a little shift. Katie then headed off to find us crotch less pantyhose to complete the ensemble. At last we got to the front desk where our lady assistant, I think with me in mind, took us to one end of the counter, a little away from other curious customers. Unlike some stores I have been in, she proceeded to quietly bag our separate purchases without holding them up high and making a great ceremony of removing hangers and tags. 

    At last we were back in the car and heading out into the country. Katie, both amused and concerned about my discomfort in the store, reached over and gave my crotch a reassuring squeeze to which I immediately stirred in reaction. Now, she told me, we were off to meet Glenda at a place she had found where in a small copse there was an old abandoned barn which would make a great place for a photo shoot. Who was Glenda, I asked, thinking that Katie had perhaps arranged a threesome. No, not so, Glenda was apparently a photographer who had photographed Katie as a cross dresser before and does so purely out of professional interest, staying behind the camera, detached from what she is photographing. OK I said, thinking that this would certainly be a new experience for me.

    We found Glenda already waiting at the appointed meeting place. She greeted Katie with a kiss and a hug and, to my surprise, greeted me with a hug too. She was an attractive, middle aged woman with a twinkle in her eye. She gave the impression that nothing would shock her. She was dressed in a “sensible” just-below-the-knee grey skirt and wore a cameraman vest, loaded with pockets, over an army type shirt, not attractive in itself but doing nothing to disguise a very ample bosom beneath. As we walked along a narrow path through the woods, carrying various bags, she explained the plan. She would be taking photos and videos of us doing whatever we wanted to. She laughingly said she thought she had seen pretty well every thing. Copies would be sent to us, but she was going to use a selection of the originals to add to a photo essay or book on cross dressers and cross dressing that she was planning to publish online. She assured us that if her selection of photos included clear facials, she would crop or blur such that our identity was protected. So, instead of posing for our own cameras fastened to the car, as we had done last weekend, we were to do whatever we felt like doing and ignore her even though she would be poking her camera all over the place. 

    After only a short walk we arrived in a small clearing in which stood a dilapidated barn. It had a solid concrete floor and was not in a dangerous condition, but the roof was seriously damaged and light poured in through numerous gaps. The once imposing big doors were gaping and sagging, but the building was nonetheless very photogenic, its former, almost ground level glass windows now empty rectangles, and bushes and young trees now endeavouring to clothe the whole structure with greenery. 

    We left our bags on an old but sturdy picnic table that someone had more recently placed by the big doors and Katie and I briefly explored the building. We found a broad, low window sill in the sun but dappled by the bushes growing beside it, and both sat down, legs astride the sill which was about equal height from floor and ground, so that we could lean back and enjoy the quietness and the freedom of not being concerned about the next vehicle that might come along. Before long I saw Glenda coming towards us and waited until she was hovering nearby, camera at the ready. I reached forward and placed my hand on Katie’s stockinged knee, then slowly moved my hand up her leg, pushing her skirt with It, until it found her crotch, loosely enclosed by her panties. My fingers found the cylindrical shape of her cock and I squeezed it and moved my hand in lazy circles across it and the rounded shapes of her testicles beneath. I felt an almost immediate response, Katie giving a groan and almost involuntarily opening her legs and pushing herself forwards a little to give me more room. I heard the click of Glenda’s camera shutter but I found no difficulty in ignoring it. When I felt Katie hard and tightly bulging the front of her panties, I slipped my hand under their edge and pulled out her swelling cock. I always become absorbed watching a cock become harder until fully engorged, so focussed on moving my hand rhythmically up and down her shaft until her cock remained upstanding without the support of my hand. At that point I swung forward and lowered my head to enclose the head of that erect staff between my lips. It felt and tasted so good. Salivating, I very slowly went down, accommodating her length little by little until my lips were pressed against her pubic area. Then, breathing heavily through my nose, I drew slowly up Katie’s shaft until only its tip was in my mouth. My tongue then flipped around the juicy bulb, working particularly on the underside. Katie made it obvious she was enjoying this slow fellatios and was pushing her hips towards me, willing me to start down again. Glenda, I noticed, was closing in from the side and I think was in video mode. I gave Katie a few more minutes of pleasure and then, because neither of us would have wanted her come at this early stage, I lifted my head and smiling with a mouth wet with saliva, asked what she would like next. It was no surprise to me that she told me to turn around on the window sill and bend over, raising my bum high. I felt my skirt and long slip being lifted and then a hand slide under my crotch and seek my balls through the silky material of my powder blue knickers.  Finding them, the hand slipped under the lacy edge and started earnestly fondling my jewels. As had Katie, I responded almost immediately, my cock rapidly enlarging in girth and length until it was straining to find a way out. It need not have tried, for Katie, taking me by surprise, suddenly pulled my knickers down to my knees and slapped my exposed cheek hard with the flat of her hand. It stung but then she slapped the other cheek and both stung. I hadn’t known of her interest in spanking and now received several more resounding slaps that left my whole bum hot and very likely reddened in the view of both Katie and Glenda, who was somewhere behind me, clicking away. With no time to protest, I felt the nozzle of a tube of lubricant nudged into my asshole and seconds later the swollen tip of Katie’s cock pushing firmly at the entrance. I pushed down my muscles to open for her and with almost no resistance she slid inside. I revelled in the feeling of being entered but Katie was in no mood to wait. She thrust until she was as tight against me as possible and then began to pump my ass. The sound of her slapping against my cheeks echoed in the empty barn and I just knew that Glenda would be capturing this assault on video. Katie didn’t let up, increasing her pace until I was hanging on tightly to the window sill to keep my balance. She wasn’t being rough but it was not a gentle buggering either. At last I felt a hesitation in her rhythm and with a final heavy thrust Katie spurted deep within my ass, going on for longer than I could believe and filling my back passage with more than plenty of her warm cum. Finally, her breathing settling, Katie slowly withdrew her cock, pulling with It, I was sure, a sizeable dribble of her cum. As her glans slipped through my anal sphincter, I heard a loud, spluttering fart, made worse by the echoing interior of the barn. Oh my God, how terribly embarrassing. Glancing round I saw Glenda still filming and both of them trying to stifle a giggle. I wanted to disappear into a deep hole in the ground, but Glenda demanded “cream pie” from behind her camera and I obligingly bent over again and disgorged as much of Katie’s cum as I could , feeling a stream running down my balls before dripping on to the sill below. I tried to apologize for farting so obviously but it was far too late, since both Katie and Glenda had clearly been greatly amused at my expense. Time for a break, clean up and recovery.

    We had brought washables, refreshments and also a large tartan blanket to spread on the ground. So after a private wash around the corner of the building, being sunny, we draped the rug over the picnic table and sat outside enjoying a drink and some finger food that we had pooled. Glenda seemed more than satisfied with her photography and we chatted about our early days of cross dressing, our respective sexual encounters, good and bad, and about clothes we would like to own or at least try on. Talking of this reminded us of our recent purchases so we each got out our new things and started trying them on, admiring them and trying each other’s clothes on too. As Katie and I became absorbed, Glenda fell back into her photographer role and hovered around snapping photos, some candid and some of which we deliberately posed, becoming naughtier as we got into the swing of our ‘fashion show’. 

    When we both slipped on our crotchless pantyhose and panties under the shield of our skirts, it was “gender reveal” show time. Females can afford to wear truly crotchless panties but we had both chosen pairs which at least contained our paraphernalia as long as one didn’t wriggle too much, though the rear was open to view if one bent over a bit. Together we fooled around for Glenda, lifting each other’s skirts to show off our wares. Katie had chosen red panties and, though the myth is that a bull is enraged by a red flag, when Katie bent over the picnic table, revealing the crack of her bottom through the open, heart shaped window in her panties, it was too much for me. Right behind her, so out of her sight, I dropped to my knees, pulled her cheeks apart and pushed my tongue against her ass hole. Katie actually squealed and half resisted but I had her firmly pinned to the edge of the table and mercilessly rimmed her hard, flicking my tongue around her hole and pushing a little into it. At this, as if resigned to her fate,  Katie bent forwards more, opened her legs to get a firm stance and pushed her bottom up at me. I tongued her forcefully, her attempts to squirm thwarted by my grip, and enjoyed the gasps and groans I was hearing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Glenda’s camera somewhere near my ear and heard the shutter clicking many times. My cock had naturally responded while I was rimming Katie, and I had briefly reached under my skirt to release it and let it hang, ready and waiting. 

    When Katie groaned that she had had enough and wanted to be fucked, I backed off and stood up. Katie turned around, sat on the edge of the picnic table and lay back, bending her shapely legs and pulling her knees back to open her ass wide. I yanked my cock into suitable stiffness, liberally applied some lubricant from the small tube I kept secreted in my bra, and pushed it against Katie’s entrance. Her sphincter muscle relaxed and I slowly slid into her as far as I could. Glenda was now crouched on the seat of the picnic table, her camera poised almost above the action. I was in no mood for a long and gentle fuck, so started thrusting at a rapid pace, feeling myself grow harder and longer as I did so. I held Katie’s legs back, her knees almost level with her chin and gained deep penetration. Katie had her eyes closed, and was breathing loudly between her half open lips. I dropped one hand down and released her cock from its hiding place, feeling her ass tighten as I began to work her cock to stiffness. Glenda was now crouched on the table top behind Katie’s head and so absorbed with her photography that she was unaware that her knees were apart and that I was being given a direct view up her skirt. I nearly lost it as I saw, not a triangle of her knickers but a bush of dark hair between her legs. She was not wearing any underwear and clearly had a very hairy cunt. I moved my eyes away from this distraction and concentrated on fucking Katie. 

    I could not last forever at this pace and was now working Katie’s cock hard in my hand. I felt the tightness building and came powerfully, though I knew that I produced less cum than Katie did and would not fill her ass as much as she had filled mine. I slowed and stopped, savouring the feeling before slowly pulling out. Glancing up at Glenda, glued behind her camera eyepiece, confirmed what I seen before, though now her knees were wider and the view much clearer. Having just ass fucked Katie, I nonetheless found myself daydreaming of a go with Glenda, but tried to dismiss the thought as too fanciful to entertain.

    We didn’t bother to change at this point and once again relaxed around the table. It was mid afternoon and I thought that the photo/video session with Glenda would now be at an end and expected us all to leave soon, and Katie probably thought so too. We had plans for a far more outrageous sex session at her house in the few hours she would still be alone. But, Glenda took us totally by surprise when she said that it been all very well being the ‘remote’ photographer, but she had become quite hot and bothered with all this close-up work with hard dicks and lubricated ass holes and would one, or both, of us consider giving her, a middle-aged spinster, a little ‘exercise’, as it were. In other words, she was now aroused and fancied sex. 

    Katie and I must have shown our surprise, but looking at each other we both figuratively shrugged and thought ‘well why not’. Cross dressers of our ilk, often married, are effectively bisexual in practice. 

    Glenda had a plan and sitting as if at table, beckoned us to sit on the table top to either side of her, facing her. We complied and Glenda promptly ran a hand up each of our skirts, found our cocks still hanging free from our recent activities, and took both in hand. She started to work us both into a satisfactory erection and then asked us to pull up our skirts. She smiled happily as she sat there holding a stiff cock to either side of her, and bending to one side, slid her mouth over Katie’s cock and sucked it expertly. Then she released it and swung over to my side, engulfing my cock in turn. I felt her tongue flipping and sliding around my shaft and then her lips pulling gently on my swollen bulb. She was obviously well versed in oral sex. Glenda alternated back and forth until she rightly judged that we were more than ready, and then surprised us again by asking whether we could perform a double penetration with her, filling her front and backdoor together. 

    The setting was not ideal for the gymnastics involved but leaving our up standing cocks wagging in the breeze, she took command. She laid the partly folded blanket on the central part of the table top and then asked Katie to sit on it, legs together and feet down on the bench. This Katie did, drawing her skirts up so that her cock stuck up invitingly. Glenda approached Katie, gathering up the front of her skirt. Now, I already knew she wasn’t wearing knickers and had glimpsed her hairy bush, but, by the look on her face, it was a surprise to Katie. Glenda stood there sporting a thick bush of dark hair between her fleshy thighs and was not at all shy about revealing it. She wasted no time, stepping up on the bench and kneeling astride Katie’s legs. Then taking hold of Katie’s cock, she guided it into that hairy bush where it disappeared until it had been fully engulfed. 

    With one hand Glenda pulled the back of her skirt up to her waist, revealing a well-rounded, large but not fat bottom, and, by both Katie and she leaning forward together, there came into my view a very receptive looking ass hole, below which I could see the base of Katie’s cock, otherwise well buried in Glenda’s cunt. It was quite a view, but now I had to do my part. By standing in the gap between the bench and the table top, astride Katie’s closed legs and bending my knees a little, I found that I was just about in the right position to place my still firm cock against Glenda’s asshole. I once again fumbled in my bra for my small tube of lubricant and applied it liberally to both my cock and to Glenda’s well stretched-looking back door. And well used it must have been, because in I slid without so much as a push. I went in as far as my position allowed and then both Katie and I seemed to select a similar, almost coordinated rhythm, both plunging in and drawing out in unison as if we had done this before many times.

    Glenda was not quiet about it. She was, we found out quickly, a ululator par excellence. She howled loudly and emitted long cries of pleasure that echoed through the barn and surrounding woods. It was as well we were not in an apartment or hotel room, and I was glad that it was unlikely that anyone was within earshot. 

    Somehow, though certainly not by design, both Katie and I climaxed almost together, accompanied by an extra long and loud wail from Glenda. I think I pumped more cum into Glenda’s ass than I had Katie’s, perhaps the novelty of the situation contributing to the level of my excitement. We both rested a few moments and then I pulled away, leaving trickles of cum running down to join that of Katie’s where things were leaking already. Glenda raised herself off Katie slowly, releasing a little flood of cum onto Katie’s balls, and as she stood up her skirt fell around her, cutting off the view. Katie unbent and stood up too. It had hardly been a comfortable position to hold, so we all needed to straighten. Glenda was glowing and over effusive, countering it by quickly summarizing how she would use the earlier material and how we would get copies and be required to give our permission for her to go ahead and use it. As she talked, she moved over to one of her camera tripods, did something to the camera and began to pack it away. It dawned on me then that she had had a video camera running the whole time we were engaged in our threesome. Seeing that I had realized, Glenda assured us that it would not appear on some tawdry website but would be her little souvenir of the experience, perhaps played on a rainy, lonely evening. Put that way, we were glad for her that she had run her video even though she had not meant us to know. 

    Katie and I cleaned up as best we could and put on clean undies for the journey back to her house, where a shower might be the first thing we did. How Glenda coped with her double cream pie, we did not see, but perhaps she too donned some knickers. We packed our things, walked back along the path and said our good byes to Glenda, giving her a hug and a kiss. She enthusiastically thanked us for voluntarily participating in her project and, a little more sheepishly, for the extra ‘exercise’. 

    As we drove off, I glanced back to see Glenda bent over as she stowed her equipment in the boot of her car. No, I couldn’t quite see whether she now had knickers on, but looking at that ample bottom brought a rush of pleasant recollections of being deep within it and, even now, thinking of it, a stirring, tight in my panties between my legs. 

    The River

    It was a typical late summer day, a bright sky but mostly cloud covered, warm, but not enough to perspire and mid-week when fewer people were out messing about in boats on the river. It was, in fact, an ideal day for two cross dressers to don their summer dresses and wide-brimmed sun hats and go rowing up the river together. 

    I had arranged to meet Katie at a bridge from where we could rent a rowing boat for a few hours, take a leisurely row up the river, explore some creeks and islands, have a picnic tea and perhaps even swim.

    This reach of the river was not the most popular, passing mainly through pasture land, without locks or riverbank pubs to distract one, and a little way up river, the channel split into several parts around elongated, wooded islands, that only naturalists haunted. There was a rough path that followed the river bank in places, but no towpath, no joggers nor cyclists exercising themselves. 

    We were both on time and getting out of our vehicles in the small parking area in a corner of a field, we were both pleased to see the other had embraced the spirit of the adventure by wearing brightly coloured floral summer dresses, legs in stockings but wearing ‘sensible’ outdoor shoes and carrying a sunhat and a big bag of yet to be discovered contents. We greeted each other with a peck on the cheek and, hand in hand, walked towards the boathouse.

    To the elderly man renting the boats it was obvious we were male, but he seemed to get the drift of the occasion and addressed us as misses. The row boats were of the heavy kind, stable, not exactly streamlined for speed and equipped with a pair of rowlocks and wooden oars, an old tin for bailing water should we take on water and a somewhat frayed length of old rope to use as a painter should we wish to land. It was clear from the row of boats tied up to his small dock that the day had not been a busy one. I allayed his concern by telling him that I was familiar with this part of the river from many years ago, though not that it had been on a youth group outing when I was a teen.

    We boarded with some difficulty and wobbles, assisting one another and having to lift our skirts a little to see exactly where to step in. The elderly man watched with unfeigned amusement, but I don’t think he saw more than a glimpse of stocking top. He shook his head and waved as we cast off, Katie taking the first turn to row. The rowlocks were well worn and squeaked as they turned in the rhythm of Katie’s first strokes. The oars, we noted, had no block to stop them sliding off into the river should one let go of one, so while rowing, the rower had to hang on to both or ship the oars into the boat’s interior to take a rest or refreshment. Losing an oar was not in our plans. Been there, done that. 

    Neither of us were expert boat handlers but we had both rowed before, so we set off confidently and Katie soon settled into a gentle, unhurried pace while I sat on the stern seat with absolutely nothing to do but enjoy the slowly passing scenery.

    To obtain a firm position to pull on the oars, Katie had had to adopt the rather unladylike stance of bracing her feet on the wooden ribs on either side of the flat bottom of the boat, and her knees being a little higher than horizontal, her skirt was slowly slipping back towards her lap. 

    My gaze was distracted from the scenery by a limited view up Katie’s skirts which revealed her stockinged thighs and between them a triangle of lacy white panties. Perhaps I am too easily distracted by such things, but I immediately had a naughty thought. Katie could not easily let go of the oars.

    Putting my sunhat down carefully on the seat beside me, I very carefully lowered myself to my knees, making sure to distribute my weight so as not to rock the boat. Then, crawling forwards, I ducked my head under Katie’s skirts. Katie saw what I was up to but could do little about It. I pushed my nose against that triangle of white panty and Katie involuntarily widened her legs in response. I needed my hands to keep balance, but nuzzled her with my nose and had the satisfaction of feeling a stirring under the soft material. Soon there was enough of a bulge that I could soft grip it with my lips and could gently tongue the knob that poked hard against the nylon. I was making a wet patch on Katie’s panties with my warm saliva. The reverie was interrupted by some laughter and shouts. 

    The navigational disadvantage of a rowing boat is that the rower cannot see where they are going, the task of pilot falling to the passenger facing the bow. With Katie rowing but thoroughly distracted by watching my head moving under her skirts, a boat was passing us down river. It was far too late to do anything. I heard Katie say there was a couple in the boat, much amused by what they were seeing. Katie apparently waved and smiled and the laughter faded downstream. I ducked out from under Katie’s skirts and resumed my seat. Katie said she was pretty sure that the couple thought that they had caught two lesbians and were much amused but not offended. So, we laughed the incident off and Katie continued rowing up the river to where the islands began.

    Taking a smaller channel dividing from the main stream, we rowed only a short way to find ourselves between the bank and a long, narrow island on which grasses and bushes shielded us from view by any boats on the main channel. We pulled in to where the bank was low and grassy and secured the painter to a small stump. This was a great picnic spot. 

    Having unloaded our picnic cooler box and other bags, and spread out a big tartan blanket on the grass, Katie and I decide that this was the time to swim. We had texted back and forth about swimming in our lingerie, perhaps an odd idea to some, but it appealed to both of us, so we had prearranged to each bring a spare set of underclothes, towel and closeable plastic bag for wet garments. 

    There were blue patches in the clouds now and it was much brighter than an hour or so ago, so we got out our towels and took off our dresses and shoes. We were both wearing full length slips and planned to keep them on. I took Katie’s hand and we stepped down to the water’s edge and, a little gingerly, took a pace into the water. It did feel peculiar to be wet our stockings, but rather exciting in its way. The bank dropped off into deeper water, so we would have to launch ourselves out from the edge rather than walk into the water. In preparation, we both took a couple more steps to the edge, the water just below our knees. The water was cool but not cold. The we crouched down and took a sharp breath as our bottoms met the water and wet our panties. It felt rather peculiar, and as Katie remarked, made one want to pee. I let out a little spurt and felt the warmth run around my balls and down my crack before meeting the colder water. I told Katie it felt nice and let go a long stream that thoroughly wet the front of my panties. Katie stood up, and I saw a growing dark patch appear on the front of her slip, extend down to hem and noisily trickle into the river. I stood up and followed suit. We stood there, fully relieving ourselves at the river edge, a first experience for both of us. Then, giggling over our naughtiness, we launched ourselves carefully out into the river, not wanting to get our wigs too wet.

    I had swum fully clothed as part of lifesaving training when a Boy Scout, but it was certainly different to be immersed in lingerie. My slip wafted around my legs as I did a slow breaststroke and I was very conscious of the water running between the cups of my bra. I swam up behind Katie who was treading water, reached down and goosed her through her wet lingerie. She yelped, turned and came after me. We swam in tight circles, like a dog fight, and she managed an almost hurtful squeeze of my crotch. We were laughing and splashing, until we both ended up back at the edge of the bank. There we crouched, gaining our breath. I moved to slide my hand under Katie’s wet slip and cupped the front of her panties with greater intent. As always happens, we had both shrunk in the cool water. I kneaded her briefly, then pulled aside the elastic and let her jewels fall out. After a little earnest massaging the effect of the cool water was countered and their normal size was restored. I was going to continue, but Katie suddenly pushed me back playfully. I staggered but managed to sit back rather heavily at the water’s edge. Katie fell forward on her knees, whipped up the edge of my soggy slip  and closed her hand on my crotch. But, not content to massage me, she pulled down the front of my panties, leaned forward and slipped her mouth over my tiny, cold cock. The move took me by surprise, but I responded quickly to the warmth and in no time at all Katie had restored the water damage. I would have been happy for her to continue, but before I had hardly begun to stiffen, Katie let go and leaned back, promising or perhaps threatening to do goodness knows what to me after our picnic. We both stood up, water pouring and dripping from our wet clothes, and stepped back up the bank to retrieve our towels. 

    It was when we had both peeled off our soggy slips and were standing there busy unfastening wet stockings that a movement on the far bank caught my attention. There was a very obvious head and shoulders peering around a bush, though quite a distance from us. I told Katie we were being watched.  There was no path over there, just a field with a herd of cows grazing, so we wondered who could be there. We could see no glint of binoculars, so it was probably not a birdwatcher. Perhaps, we concluded, it was someone looking for plants or mushrooms. For how long we had been watched we did not know, but from that distance the watched probably thought they were spying on two women, who took a dip in their lingerie rather than risk skinny-dipping. 

    Being natural exhibitionists, neither Katie nor I were in the least worried, so we decided to give the watcher an unexpected finale. Neither of us had peeled off our wet stockings though detached from our garter belts, so with our backs to the watcher, we both wriggle off our wet panties and stepped out of them. Then we casually turned towards the watcher, our cocks fully visible, and reached behind to unfasten our garter belts. Lastly, without having looked directly at the I, we rolled off our wet stockings and picked up our towels. 

    When we did check on the location of the watcher, we saw a male figure hurrying away from the river bank across the field. He had probably been so sure that he was peeping at two women, the shock of revelation had been too much for him. We both laughed and dried ourselves off.

    We had both brought at least one change of underthings, so once dry we dressed but didn’t put our summer dresses back on. We were going to have a lingerie picnic. I had put on a pale blue, matching bra and loose legged French knicker set with a white suspender belt and white stockings. Katie had a red bra and panty set, black suspenders belt and black, lace topped stockings. We admired each other and took some photos of us together. Thirst and hunger cut the photo shoot short as we unpacked our picnic. We had both brought stuff; sort of a potluck in a way. And, we discovered, we had both brought a big bottle of wine and two glasses. Well, even we would not be getting through two bottles, so we chose one and kept the other for when we went back to Katie’s house. We ended up doing ourselves pretty well and thoroughly enjoyed sitting on our rug in our underwear enjoying some good food and wine. The sun even peeked out between the clouds for a few minutes at a time. 

    I’m not sure how strong the wine was but we certainly became a bit tipsy by the time we tackled the last of the dessert cake and fruit topping. Katie had even brought a can of whipped cream and after covering our dessert with It, threatened to fill the crack of my bottom with cream and lick it all off. I said in return that I would cover her cock and balls with cream and suck it all away. In fact, we both lay back on the blanket and, enjoying just a little heat from the sun, we put an arm round each other, and hugged gently. I felt so relaxed, though probably aided by the wine. I propped myself up on one elbow and lightly brushed Katie’s lips with mine. She responded in kind and we enjoyed a quiet, but not passionate snog for a little while. Then, lying back, I must have fallen asleep, which I had never intended. 

    At some point I must have turned on my left side, my left leg straight and my right leg bent so my foot almost touched my knee; my usual sleeping position in fact. Though I think this has something to do with childhood, the position does rather pull the cheeks of one’s bottom apart. I woke slowly, aware of something disturbing me. All too quickly I felt a cold sensation and realized that Katie, naughty mood restored, had begun to carry out her threat. She had pulled my knickers down enough to start applying a line of whipped cream down the crack of my bottom, the vague noise that I woke to being the hiss of the pressurized can. I didn’t move, which was taken by Katie as a signal to go on. I felt hands on my cheeks, pulling them apart and cooperated by sliding my knee further up. I found myself tensing in anticipation and the felt Katie’s tongue touch the very top of my crack. The tongue moved up and down a little, gradually working down, sucking up the cream and licking my crack clean of it before moving on. Of course, I knew where it was going, but it still made me jolt as Katie’s tongue reach my asshole. How could one stay still? She flicked back and forth across the entrance and I couldn’t help thrusting my hips up in response. The tongue stopped but only while a liberal dollop of cream was almost forced into my hole. Then I felt the tongue dig deeply and heard Katie slurp as she sucked up the cream. I’m sure the tongue only pushed a little way in, but it felt much deeper and I arched even more and felt my fingers clutching the rug in ecstasy. Then the tongue left my hole and finished the course with a final flick at the base of my testicles. 

    I relaxed, letting my knee slide down to meet the other and lay on my front, resting my head on folded arms and still breathing heavily. Again I could easily guess what would happen after this intermission. I couldn’t see, but Katie was probably making herself hard, and as if to confirm this, a finger lightly applied some cool ointment to my ass. Well, cool, but the kind that has an evaporant which makes one feel a burning sensation. 

    I felt knees lowered on either side of my mine and a supporting arm establish itself on my left side. Then a rather hard thing poked at my asshole and pressed into it. I relaxed muscles and allowed it to slowly enter, glad for the ‘heat’ jelly which let Katie’s hard prick slide smoothly in. As it did so, an arm pressed against my right side and the weight of Katie’s body was slowly lowered onto me. Not only was I pinned but the penetration was so deep I gasped. It wasn’t hurting. In fact it felt marvellous. I was helpless to do anything about it anyway. 

    Katie must have been becoming increasingly randy while I slept, knowing that sex was the next item on the agenda, because once fully inside me she began to bounce her thighs against my bottom, thrusting her cock down deeper than ever with every stroke. She laid her whole weight on me and nuzzled the back of my neck as she kept thrusting her hips up and down. I had to breathe to match her movement, the breath pressed out of me and my stuffed bra cups flattened as she came down and my gasping for air as she briefly lifted up. 

    I didn’t think she could last long at this tempo but Katie was obviously in the mood and pounded my ass for what seemed a long time. Then I felt that extra thrust and hesitation and she stopped at the deepest point and came in regular spasms. Then she pushed and rose more slowly a number of times until she had expelled every last drop. 

    Katie slowly lifted her weight off my back and I felt her cock withdrawing and slipping out of me. I couldn’t help tightening my anal muscles sharply as she swung away. What a workout! I lay unmoving but felt Katie pull my knickers back up as if to adjourn the onslaught.  She laid down beside me, perhaps waiting for me to get up or comment. Eventually, I raised myself enough to turn on my side to face her. As I turned I felt a squirt of warm cum between my cheeks and knew that the crotch of my knickers would soon feel wet and sticky between my legs.

    Katie giggled at my mild protests about a heavy workout and told me that I had deserved it. Deserved it! I think she was just goading me into action, and it worked. Neither of us are really inclined towards rough sex but one can pretend. Before Katie could react, I swung a leg over and sat firmly on her chest.  Sliding forwards, I placed the wet crotch of my knickers firmly on her face as if to smother her, though not really. Then I rubbed my crotch up and down, pushing her nose into the fabric and feeling myself harden as I did so. 

    Katie squealed in mock submission and I heard her muffled voice saying OK, OK. I slid back a bit and Katie took a deep breath. She watched as I pulled my half hardened cock out from the edge of knickers and then I shuffled my knees up beside her shoulders and bounced my cock on her damp nose, which made me stiffen up nicely. I told Katie to “open wide” and slid my cock into her mouth. She complied and closed her lips around it, spreading saliva around it with her tongue. 

    Katie could not move her head much so I gently, at first, lowered and raised my shaft until it was fully erect. Then my thrusts became longer and I pushed in right up to her lips. Katie deep throated as if by second nature and I pulled out such that her lips almost lost touch with my swollen bulb. I enjoyed myself for a few minutes, giving Katie the full length of my cock and watching saliva begin to dribble from the corner of her mouth. 

    However, this was only the appetizer. I pulled away, unstraddling her, and without a pause lifted her stockinged legs off the ground until they pointed skyward. I tucked a finger under the crotch of her panties and tugged upwards, pulling them off her feet and letting them fall to the ground. Then pushing at the back of her knees, bent her legs back to lift her bottom and reveal her now very vulnerable ass. Holding her ankles together with one hand, I smacked her buttocks quite hard in playful revenge for the workout she had given me. Then I reached for the little tube of lube, carefully stowed in my bra, and applied it to Katie’s nicely exposed asshole. 

    With a quick shift of position I grabbed an ankle with each hand, pulled her legs apart and bent them back as I shuffled forwards on my knees to straddle her buttocks and bring my still hard cock to her back door. Still wet with saliva, there was little resistance as I pushed into her well lubricated ass. I pushed in as far as I could, then leaned my weight forward so that I could slide my knees back and straighten my legs. Now I was heavily pressed down on her ass and as fully inside her as possible.

    I wasn’t about to take my time either and leaving Katie’s legs to be pressed down by my shoulders, I supported myself on my hands as if doing push ups. Then, being careful not to slip out, I started to pound Katie’s ass as she had done to me. As I bounced down on her, Katie breathed heavily and groaned in rhythm. I was too worked up to last long and soon felt that momentary tightness before pumping my load into her. It felt more than good and seemed to go on until I was drained of every dram.

     It wasn’t a comfortable position for either of us so I quickly let go and we both rolled onto our sides, me cupped around that lovely ass that I had just filled. I put an arm over Katie and gave her a firm hug. We lay quietly like that for a while, contented and feeling close.

    It was time to go. We stood up and started packing things together. During the process I suddenly thought of the man on the far bank and wondered whether he had returned and watched us while we had had heavy sex. I took a sideways glance and fixed on the place we had first seen him. Nothing. But then, further along the bank, by some trees, I thought I saw movement but could not be sure. A momentary flash as the glass of binoculars caught the sun gave him away. I told Katie and she, pretending to talk to me, studied the bank over my shoulder. Yes, a person was there. Had the man we saw come back or was this another person. We had no way of knowing, and the more important question was as to how long we had been watched. Perhaps the whole time! 

    We both giggled at the thought and Katie wondered whether the person had been masturbating while watching us. I said I hoped so with the show we had given. So, knowing we were under surveillance, and still dressed in our lingerie, we deliberately stood sideways on to the watcher and faced each other. The we each reached in the other’s panties and to fondle our cocks, simultaneously hugging with the other arm and providing the watcher with a long, cinema style embrace, as a sort of finale. Then we got fully dressed again.

    We were still smiling at our show of brazen exhibitionism as we pushed our boat off the bank and started back to the boat hire place, I rowing this time. I found, as Katie had, that it was more efficient to row with one’s feet braced on the outside curve of the hull rather than the centre, so she had her turn of seeing up my skirt, but I think we were both tuckered out with sex, so Katie looked but didn’t attack me as I had her. 

    The old man was busy with other customers as we arrived back at the dock, but made a point of asking us ‘ladies’ whether we had had a good time. We told him we had much enjoyed the trip but Katie put a spin on our reply by giving him a big wink and then turned to make an exaggerated bend over to lift one of our bags. He chuckled, his imagination probably running full speed, and said that we were welcome back any time. 

    We walked to our separate vehicles and stowed our bags, including our respective bags of wet lingerie that we had swum in. The day was not over, for though Katie was returning to her house and I to my hotel, we were meeting for dinner that evening and Katie would be coming to my room. So, with undoubtedly naughty thoughts about the evening, we waved good bye and drove off in different directions.