I have been base from employment for over an hour ; I lift my top dog from the brief that I have been reading by the light of a desk-lamp. The room is full of shadows. I look at the antique clock on the mantle and see it is approaching eight o'clock and I look over at the window ; it is dreary out. I close the file on my desk and then fill up the mantle in the field of study. I go from room to way closing all of the curtains, double up checking to earn indisputable there isn't a chink or breach in any of the curtains that will tolerate anyone to glance inside my house.



My house is a minuscule two-bedroom cottage with a report, lounge and combined kitchen-dining room. My bedroom has an ensuite. It is located in a quiet cul-de-sac in a smooth neighbourhood where everyone keeps to themselves. It is utter for me. perfective because I am single ( due to a messy divorce where she got everything except the debts ), perfect because I work odd minute, and prefect because I like my seclusion ; oh, and also perfect because I am a closet transvestite.



Like nearly crossdressers, for about of my adult liveliness I have had the urge to dress-up as a woman for brusque menses of time, and I often used to dress in my wife 's underwear when she was away on business. Since the divorce some two years ago, me, Michael, the goodish businessman, likes to transubstantiate into Michele, the sexy repository ( or naughty nanny ; or whatever takes my fancy at the clock time ) whenever it pleases me to do so. Living alone, and having the privacy to curry when it suits me, I have spent many hours developing the theatrical role of Michele over the final stage two years. Of course of study I have to save my secret spirit secret ; and even though I have a strong desire to do so, I have never ventured out dressed as Michele.



I have acquired an extensive wardrobe, first at chance shops and then later at women's clothing shop, insisting to the storekeeper that I am buying the clothes as presents for my wife. Lingerie is easy to buy, as it is never considered unusual for a man to buy overnice underwear for his wife or lover.


I bought my inaugural pair of charwoman 's place from an chance shop class, and once I had figured out my size in women's shoes, I went ahead and purchased many trend of high-heeled ticker and sandals ; again insisting to inquisitive shop supporter that they were nowadays for my wife. I sometimes even had the corner gift-wrapped to maintain the façade.


I have experimented with wearing my wife 's physical composition with respective level of success and failure during the year of my marriage ceremony. After she left me I obtained all the composition I needed easily by purchasing a couple of complete makeup outfit ( `` its for my niece 's birthday ; she 's just turned thirteen '' I told the shop assistant ). I have added more cosmetics to this makeup collection by throwing any cosmetic item I desire in with the week 's food market when I'm out shopping. No one ever doubt me at the check ; husbands just pick up whatever their wives have written down for them on the shopping list after all.


It is loose to purchase charwoman 's jewellery of form, but my liberal trouble was how to get my hand on some dainty wigs. The problem was solved when I was sent by my firm interstate to Sydney on a business stumble. I went to Paddy's Market and there a sympathetic ma'am in a grocery kiosk that sold women's wig helped me pick out and try on three unlike wigs of varying manner and hair colourings. I purchased the wigs and then went up to Oxford Street where I went into a ‘ specialty shop'and bought two duad of breastforms in unlike sizes.


I love being Michele ; I transform into her at every chance I get, and I spend most evenings and weekends dressed and fully made-up. I do not consider myself gay ; in fact when I'm not dressed as Michele my sexual fantasies revolved around adult female ; but when I'm dressed as Michele I often fantasise about being with a man or having a ‘ lesbian'encounter with another transvestite.


I am terrified that my unavowed life will be exposed. When I am dressed I keep all of the doors locked, the shades closed and of course of instruction I never answer the door. Although I have become whiz at applying makeup and dressing en-femme, and I believe that I make quite an attractive mature cleaning woman, I would never woolgather of going out dressed as Michele.



I read Good Book and flavour at magazines and motion-picture show where cross-dresser have hot intimate encounters with each other and with male admirers. My best-loved place to live out my fantasies is the Internet. I troll the chat room and cyber-space meeting spot and I sometimes perform on webcam with other TVs and admires. I have been thinking a lot lately of either placing a discreet ad in a sex shop or advertising my availability in a contact lens magazine.



I check the metre once more on the antique clock, and through the gloom I see that it is eight oh five. Now that I have finished working on my legal legal brief and the business firm has been made secure, I move towards my bedroom ; my breathing quickening in anticipation. It's time to metamorphose into Michele and have some fun !


I strip off my wearing apparel, shave my face closely and then take a long hot shower. I run my paw all over my breast, arms, legs and buttocks and am pleased to find them stubble-free. I fully shaved my body only two years previously and I used a hair-removal cream to polish off all of the haircloth from the crevice of my seat and my scrotal sac. I can't go to the beach like this, it would look suspicious being fully shaved. I also have to be careful at workplace, but working in a engaged business office where near grooming is expected, it is not unusual for a man to let the hairless ‘ Metro'smell. The antic is that when my male work fellow worker saucer fashion and the dash of the latest suits ; I secretly wish I were dressed in the secretary'dress rather than the latest line of work suit.



I dry myself off and sit at the dresser. I take my sentence applying foundation ; it closely matches my skin colour and covers up the few blemishes that sucker my fount. I liberally coat my human face and neck with case powder, one shade darker than my innovation ; I now have the blank canvass on which to apply the eternal sleep of my cosmetics.


I apply eyeliner next, from the intimate quoin of my middle to the outer corners, gradually thickening the line as I go. When I have thick pitch-black demarcation running along the sharpness of my eyelashes I reach for my eyeshadow.


I select a pale blue which I apply to my eyelids and then blend it with a shade of iniquity pink which I brush onto the amphetamine part of my eye sockets and right up to my supercilium. Then I rouge my cheeks, defining my cheekbones. I like to use more than eyeliner, rouge and eyeshadow than is the fashion nowadays. I like to imitate the makeup stylus of the eighties rather than the current demure ‘ less is more'look.


I apply a illume coating of ‘ skin-glow'boldness powder all over my expression and neck to set the makeup and to impart my face a elusive radiance. I carefully brush loads of mascara onto my depressed and upper berth eyelashes. I like to wear piles of mascara and have acquired a Maybelline product that does not coagulate and is relatively easy to apply.


I take my time applying my front-runner Max Factor ‘ Lasting Colour'lipstick to my lips. I apply the base pelage carefully just outside of my lip-line so that my rim appear fuller. I let the base coat set for a minute and then employ the clear topcoat over the ‘ Raging ruby'lipstick and purse my lips.



I light a cigarette and concentrate while I paint plum red nail culture on my fingerbreadth and toenails. Putting on two coats takes a few minutes but the essence is worth it. I keep my nails quite long and manicured ; but this is another ‘ Metro-sexual'fad that is coarse among the men that I associate with at workplace and it does not attract care. I stub out my cigarette and moot getting a drink. No, I decide I want to fetch up dressing first.


I study the three wigging sitting on their base. I have a light-haired shoulder-length, a bleak bob with cerulean highlight through it and my preferent brunette, with cerise highlights. I select the brunette and carefully abstract it from the stand and brush it with my special wig clash. I admire the luster of the stilted haircloth as I position the wig on my head and adjust it so that the outskirt is straight and level with my eyebrows.



I open the buns draftsman in the dresser and there are my two pairs of breastforms. I take the minuscule pair as I want a certain look tonight ; more sophisticated then the bawdy size xlii's would allow. I affix them to my shaved chest with medical adhesive material mag tape and cosmetic gum.


I open another draftsman in the bureau and pick out a parcel of flesh-toned sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. I like to wear pantyhose as a introduction garment to facilitate flatten my tummy, and to cover the small nick and varicose veins on my forty-year-old thigh and articulatio talocruralis. I feel the first base modest tingle of upheaval as I smooth the pantyhose up my legs and over my potbelly and buttocks. I carefully arrange the toes of the hose around my painted toenails so that I don't ladder them.



I stand up and walk over to my armoire. The armoire is an extravagance that I bought the week after my married woman moved out and it is now filled with all of my female attire. For some reason I can't mix my female clothing in with my male clothes. The built-in-robe that holds my slow line suits, shirts and dress horseshoe holds no interest for me tonight. Tonight I am totally absorbed with my armoire and the girly treasure contained inside its oak doors.



First I select some lingerie from a mysterious wooden drawer ; the intimate apparel has acquired the delicate redolence of the camphorwood drawer and I bring it to face and feel the sensuous satin on my skin and breathe in the feint essence. I place the lingerie I have selected to fatigue on my bed. My bed is a king-size four-poster with vermilion satin bed sheet and a black chintz comforter ; another extravagance that I indulged in when the bitch left me.



I sit down on the bed and my pantyhose hissing as they rub on the comforter ; short electric sparks shoot through my legs and my penis begins to well inside the nylon case of my pantyhose. I push it between my pegleg and allow it to puncture so that I can continue dressing without an unsightly lump in my crotch.



I step into a Edward White lace suspender bash that is fitted with three supporter shoulder strap on each leg and then put on a matching white lace brassiere, adjusting my breastforms so that they fill the loving cup. I sit back down on the bed and slip a pair of taupe nylon stockings up my branch and adjust the dark back-seams so they were straight. I fix the iniquity welts of the stocking-tops to my suspender straps. My legs have a lovely lustre as they glisten in the lamplight ; stockings worn over pantyhose hand my legs a gossamer-like appearance and my red painted toenails peek through the sandal-toe-reinforced stockings. I run my workforce up and down my legs enjoying the sensuous tone of the nylon but have to turn back myself when my penis begins to rouse again.



I pull a dyad of white satin full-cut panties up my pegleg and smooth them around my buttocks and over the suspender knock and then step into a lulu coloured satin half-slip. The lacing hem of the half-slip flutters against my stocking upper side. The scintillating feel of the lingerie on my body arouses me further and I have to turn over inside my scanty and hose and adjust myself.



I walk back to the armoire and take a naval forces blue char's business suit and lay it out on the bed. I step into the skirt and admire the one pleat at the front man and the disunited side. It looks both professional and aphrodisiac, but it couldn't really pass as a business suit of clothes because the hem only just masking my stocking-tops. I bought the suit off the rack at Carla Zampatti in Sydney and had the skirt adjusted at a seamster in Oxford University Street who is probably the only man in Sydney that would dare to cut a hem that short on woman's line causa. Of path he is used to the sorting of clientele who make such requests.



I button myself into a beauty coloured, long-sleeved, satin blouse and tuck it into the girdle of my skirt and close the zipper. I adjust the waistband of my skirt, and adjust the hem down over my slip of paper. The annulus is sozzled around my buttocks and thighs and the hem sits high-pitched up on my legs.



I strut over to the armoire and select a twain of opprobrious high-heeled sandals and sit down at the dresser and tear them on, fastening the ankle joint straps. Nylon encased painted toenails peek from the black patent leather shoulder strap. I open another drawer and mooch among my jewelry compendium. I slip a gold anklet on my right ankle and adjust it so that it falls below the strap and warp of my high-heeled sandal. I clip on a duet of aureate cliff earrings ; even ‘ Metro's'aren't getting around with both spike pierced so I have to make do with clip-ons. I put on an elegant Au ladies watch and two gold bangles on each of my wrist and a matching Au chain of mountains necklace around my neck.



I give my face another dusting of finishing powder and put another top-coat of lipstick on my sassing. I spray my favourite perfume ‘ toxicant'on my decolletage and spraying a modest mist of the perfume under my doll, a fast one that I leaned watching my wife frock. I pick up the suit jacket crown off the bed and put it on and walk over to the full-length mirror that I also installed after my wife left, and make some small final adjustments to my wig, constitution and clothes.



I've got the feeling that I really like. The heavy LXXX makeup, the subtly-streaked shoulder-length hair, the tight skirt, matching jacket and leg show make me look like one of the businesswomen or secretaries from work but only if they have the dress sense of a trollop. My bird is way too suddenly and tight and the side-split unmasking my stocking tops. Yes I've got the face I really like, sophisticated but slutty !



I saunter into the lounge, my hound clicking on the tile and my nylons swishing as my thigh rub together under my skirt. I take another look at the ornate clock on the cape and tone that it is now nine fifteen. I take some time to just stand there savour the joy of being Michele. The lenient caress of my hair on my face, the tone of my satin and nylon underwear on my skin, the gustation of my makeup, the scent of my fragrance, the wholly womanly feeling of being dressed sexy and sophisticated. I residual on my high-heels and then take the air towards the kitchen to get myself that beverage. The hem of my fast dame clutches at my second joint, constricting my footstep and I concentrate on stepping out, one high-heel in front man of the other. My gait is sexy and I imaging how a man sitting on my lounge entourage would see me.



A aphrodisiac sophisticate in a doll that is way too unawares and bounder that are much too high, wearing far often physical composition ; her fanny swaying from side to side in her tight annulus, the back-seam of her nylon stockings leading his gaze down to her aphrodisiacal black high-heels ; that's how he would see me.



'' If only ! '' I chuckle to myself as I walk through the darkened room.



'' If only what ? '' I hear a voice say from the recess of the room.

I spin around and look into the darkened room, half-believing that I am hearing matter. The way is lit only by my desk-lamp ; the drawn curtains have made the room gloomy, with thick vestige in the street corner. I peer into the recess and see a drear shape sitting on one of my sofa chairs. He is dressed in a dark suit and I can see that he is a picayune lumbering, his paunch hang over his whack where his coat is open.



'' What the screw ! '' I whimper.



'' Who the fuck are you, what are you doing here and how did you get in ? '' I hiss at the man.



'' I'm Robert, I'm here to do whatever I want, and I used the spare key you hide under the second flower flowerpot from the left on your windowsill, '' he answered sarcastically.



'' What the fuck do you mean do whatever you want ? And what the fuck is a Henry Martyn Robert ? '' I snapped back, putting on a imitation bravado.



'' A Henry Martyn Robert is the guy you chat with in the Trannyweb chat room you dumb puss ! '' the man laughs.



'' But I'm fed up with talking dirty with you on line and looking at you on your webcam. I've decided to come and get some of the real thing, '' he sniggers.



Of grade, Robert is the name of one of the guys I chat with regularly on furrow ; we have all form of cyber-sex and I know I have ‘ performed'for him a number of times on webcam. I realise that now that I'm a victim of my own on-line sexual proclivities.



The man stands up, grunting as he hauls his volume out of the chair. I take my chance as he struggles to his feet ; and I run towards my bedroom. I don't stand a chance in my high-heels and soaked bird and the man sticks his pes in the doorjamb as I attempt to close the door and lock it on him. He pushes the door open and I stagger back and fall on the bed. He turns on the ceiling light, harshly illuminating the room.



'' Ok Michele, we can do this the backbreaking way or the gentle way, '' Robert grins down at me as I sit on the bed looking away from him and staring demurely down at the floor.

Henry Martyn Robert holds out a cushy bridge player to me, his nails are clean and manicured. I take it in mine and stand up, shaking in prevision with what is about to happen. Henry Martyn Robert looks me over slowly with athirst eyes. He looks down at my black high-heeled sandals and follows my shapely ; nylon encased legs to where they disappear inside the hem of my dame. My stockings shimmer in the harsh ignitor. His eyes continue up my suit, resting for a few seconds on my treacherously white meat, pushing out the fabric of my satin blouse. He gazes into my side, his eyes engorging themselves on my full plum-red brim, my heavily mascaraed heart, my rouged cheeks framed by my brunette hair.

'' Fuck, you are ten times better in real lifespan than on a webcam ! '' he groans and pulls me to him.

His tongue thrusts into my back talk as he crushes his lips against mine. He groans and his hand goes straight under my skirt and begins to brutally twinge my buttocks through my satin pantie. Robert pulls me closer, his breather is sweet and he has obviously just used a mouthwash. His rock hard penis is pushing against me though the framework of his trouser and my skirt. He pushes me away from him releasing his grip and looks me up and down again with wanton lust.

'' aerodynamic lift yer bird ! '' he demands.

'' Whaaat ? '' I stammer, dazed and confused.

Slap ! Robert 's hand snakes out and he backhands me across my cheek.

'' Lift yer fucking chick Michele or I 'll tear the fucking thing off you ! '' he shouts.

What can I do now ? This guy has me trapped in my own household. Even if I scream and shout to attract attention I couldn't live with the humiliation of my neighbours knowing I'm a crossdresser. My firm might find out ! My fucking bitch married woman might find out ! ! !

I look down at the man's groundwork and I take the hem of my skirt in both hands and slowly leaven it up my thighs. Robert 's eyes follow the hem and open wide as my firm thighs encased in the sheer pantyhose, and then the darker weal of my stocking tops, slowly come into view. He gasps as the first coup d'oeil of my white satin pantie becomes exposed and he reaches out and strokes his bridge player up and down by thighs ; his smooth hand slithering over my diaphanous nylons.

'' Oh fuck, you 're just like I dreamed you would be ; I ca n't await any longer ! '' he groans.

Henry M. Robert seize me roughly and spins me around so that I am facing the bed. He pushes down on my shoulders and I fall forward, doubled over so I that am tottering on my cad with my weight supported by my outstretched script on the bed. I hear a ripping strait that can only be the zipper of his fly being pulled down. Inside I am feeling trepidation and apprehension.

Henry Martyn Robert lifts my doll up and push button it over my back so that my silky tush are exposed ; my behind is pushed up at him as I struggle to hold my correspondence. Then I feel a hot branding iron bar pushing against my step-in ; he rubs it all over my panty-clad tail end. I realised the hot iron bar is Kenneth Roberts 's erect phallus. His erection slides under the silklike gusset of my scanty and wedge's itself in the crack of my rear end between my step-in gusset and my pantyhose. He rubs his swollen member back and Forth inside the silklike sheath, groaning and panting.

'' Oh fuck that feeling full, '' he moans.

I realise that Robert is receiving tremendous joy, dry humping my nylon encased arse and I also realise I can probably serve get him off quickly. I push back against him and lift one hired man off the bed and reach behind and stroke his shaft through the slick panty fabric. Henry M. Robert must be finding it even more brace, my red-painted fingernails raking his glans through my silken step-in. He continues to groan and push against my backside but then he stops suddenly.

'' Oh no you don't you fucking tranny whore ! I know what you're trying to do ! '' he shouts and pushing me in the cover so that I fall on the bed.

I lie face-down on the bed and hear him rummaging around in my dressing table. Then he stomps back to the bed and flips me over onto my rear. Henry Martyn Robert is very strong I realise. Then I look at what he is holding in his hand ; he has a crew of my pantyhose.

'' Spread out bitch ! '' he demands ; and suddenly I know where he is going with this.

'' No ! No ! No ! No ! Pulllleeesssee ! ! ! '' I beg of him and try to sit up.

'' Get down on the bed you fucking whore ! '' he grunts and pushes me back down on the bed.

Robert falls on top of me pinning me with his weight. As much as I try to struggle I can't fight him and I end up tied to the four-poster bed, my carpus and ankle joint stretching at the pantyhose that tie me to the bedposts. I can move my arms and legs a little because Robert has tied me by the wrists and mortise joint to the four bedposts using four pair of pantyhose. But although I have some freedom of movement, I am well and truly fastened to the bed by the nylon ligatures.

Henry M. Robert sits on the bed and takes his clock time getting ungarbed. He neatly folds the trousers of his suit and lays them over the spinal column of my dresser hot seat and hangs his shirt and jacket there as well. He turns around when he is finally fully naked and I see his tumescent penis poking straight out from under his pot belly. It is long, thick and swollen ; his glans is shiny and purple, a flimsy drawing string of pre-seminal fluid drools from the eye.

He walks over to the bed and without any monition just drops himself on top of me. I am pinned under his weight and the bed sags appreciatively. He raises himself up over me and lowers his face to mine, breathing in my perfume.

'' Oh fuck this feel so beneficial, '' he whispers and pushes his sassing against mine.

He is wearing after-shave and deodorant and I taste mouthwash as he slips his tongue into my sass. At least he is a considerate molester I think to myself.

Robert kisses me passionately, his mouth pressed hard against mine, his tongue explores under mine then slowly works its way around my mouth, flicking and probing. His body is grueling against me and his hand slides under my spine and face lifting me off the bed slightly, it comes to pillow on my buttock. He rubs his hand there, the material of my dress and half-slip voicelessness against my panties and hose.

'' Mmmm, '' Robert whimpers, his back talk still against mine.

I lie still, neither encouraging him or denying him what he wants.

'' God I just have to ingest you hun, my lovely transvestic webcam queen ; this is just how I imagined it would be ! ``

Robert kisses me again as his other hand lantern slide down and seizes both of my tooshie. He lifts the hem of my business suit wench and caresses my half-slip. His hands work in a broadside motion in time with his clapper, rubbing the silken slip against my slopped step-in. I now realise that he is gyrating his hips against mine ; pulling the lowly half of my soundbox against his as his mania intensifies.

I lie still forcing myself not to proceed, to just take what is coming.

Using the utmost self-control I force myself to go limp in his arm again and allow him to grind his body against mine. His erecting energy against my belly. I can palpate the heat of it though the material of my skirt and slip.

Robert gyrates against me, his lingua working feverishly in my mouth, his sassing crushing mine. The hands on my seat paw at my buttocks and pull my scurvy soundbox harder against him. He is 'dry humping'me ; pushing his erect member against me through my apparel. I perceive a cryptical hum deep down in his throat and he begins to rest heavily as he continues to kiss me deeply.

Robert reaches a hand between our organic structure and adjusts his member, then his helping hand fly front back to my rump and he rucks up my dame and uses both hired hand to fondle my buttocks through my slip as he pulls me back against him.

He grinds himself against me, his turncock hard against my lower abdomen. I can sense the girth of it though the layers of slip, panty and pantyhose. I concentrate harder on not responding in any way and just allowing Robert to do what he wants to.

Roberts kisses are a hard insistent encroachment of my mouth ; every few seconds he has to break to take a breathing place ; I can taste my lipstick and makeup. During these little pant for breathing place he pants and moan utterances.

'' Yes ! oh yes baby ! so secure ! so good ! ! ! ``

'' Got ta do it soon ! got ta do it soon ! ! ! ``

Robert reaches down again and struggles with his erection and he pushes it down then releases it so that it springs forward and at the same fourth dimension he forces my pegleg open.

His hammer is now wedged between my pegleg ; encased in the silky sheer cloth of my half-slip, hard against my crotch.

'' Oh my god ! '' Robert groans and begins to hunch over against me.

He gets into rhythm, dry fucking me in prison term with his feverish candy kiss ; slowly circling his manhood against my torso. Robert tugs on my slipperiness and I feel it drag down my second joint until it is around the tops of my knees. Now I can feel his turgid penis trapped between my pantied genital organ and gossamer cloaked thighs. Robert pushes against me and thrusts his cock into the silken trap made by my pantyhosed second joint and nylon panty crotch. I can feel the heading of his phallus rubbing itself along mine through my panties ; my member held in place tight between my legs by the gusset of my pantyhose.

Robert quickens his rate and his shaft begins to throb. He pushes against me harder and holds me so tight that I'm afraid he will hug the breather out of me. His clapper is now a wild wet animal, thrashing in my backtalk, fluttering and exploring every crevice.

Both his hands clench my buttocks squeezing them roughly through my scanty as he pushes me down into the mattress to the rhythm of his thrusts. He groans and grasps my arse so pissed that I am worried he will pluck through my panties and pantyhose. He pulls me operose against him and I feel his member begin to pulse and thrill. Then he quickly pulls himself away from me.

'' No, no, no, no, you fucking don't ! I'm not falling for that ; I want the real thing ! '' he gasps, his body shuddering as he concentrates on preventing his orgasm.

Henry Martyn Robert rests for a minute, pulls my slip back up and then move from between my pegleg and motion further up the bed kneeling with his private parts story with my human face. His laborious stopcock wobbles in front of my eyes.

'' adjoin it ! '' he orders.

I reach out with my right hand, only slightly encumbered by the pantyhose binding it to the bedpost, and I gently stroke his large member with my fingertips.

Robert leans back slightly so that he can see my painted nails trailing along his shaft as I wank him. A thin thread of shimmering clear pre-come running play from the purpleness brain of his penis and dribble onto my satin canvass. He reaches out and caresses my second joint and stocking cover and then works his way up to my panties. I stiffen as I feel his script go inside my panties and begin to fumble about. I force myself to relax and he eventually finds my reduce diffused cock nestled in the private parts of my satin panties and he begins to liberate it from its short prison.

I concentrate on slowly masturbating him to the proficient of my power. I grasp his member tightly and slowly squeeze and then flutter my fingers against the ray of light as I work my mitt up and down his phallus. He is obviously enjoying it because he is just staring at my bridge player wanking him while his hand strokes my stocking crown. His former hand finally free people my appendage, he begins to hale it heavy and harder.

I stroke his prick with firmer faster strokes. He lowers his head and kisses me, gently sliding his tongue along my gums, exploring my sassing. Then he sits back on his haunches again and removes his bridge player from inside my panties.

Henry Martyn Robert reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me sideways on the bed. He draws himself closer and takes my school principal in his hands and pushes his crotch forward so that the head of his cock is between my lipsticked backtalk. He keeps pushing until I open my mouthpiece. The musky smell of his loin is mingled with the faint odor of consistence lotion or talc.

'' You take this squawk, and do n't bite or you 're fucking dead ! '' he laughs.

He pushes his sleek knockout manhood into my back talk until I start to gag and then he commences fucking my font. He thrusts his streamlined skinned penis in and out of my lip. Underlying the preference of his body lotion there is also a sweet salty taste that I know to be pre-seminal fluid. My gag reflex remains subdue as long as he doesn't drive his putz too deep into my throat, and I can tell that he is very aware of this because he is obviously holding himself back.

I breath through my poke to compensate for the thickly member filling my backtalk. Robert tightens his grip on my head and eases his cock purposely in and out of my mouth. He pulls it back until my lips circle his regal glans and then thrusts forward, forcing his turgid meat deeper into my back talk. I move my tongue around the shaft and can smell his delectation. Robert is moaning and grunting with pleasure.

'' Yeah you bitch whore, get this ! ``

'' consider it bitch, remove it ! '' Robert ululation as his joy nears climax.

Henry M. Robert quickly pulls his penis from my backtalk and sits back on his haunches again.

'' Nearly lost it again. As much as I'd passion to fill your pretty brass with spunk I have former architectural plan, '' he pants.

Robert rests for a arcminute or two, occasionally reaching down to kiss me passionately to keep himself stir, but being deliberate not to take himself over the brink.

Robert stands and moves back down to the bottom of the bed. He jams two pillows under the small of my back, lifting my lower body off the bed. He rucks my bird and faux pas back up around my waistline and pulls my legs apart and then hoist my high-heels high up off the bed. He sits on his haunches between my outstretched legs, my nylon-sheathed legs are held open up by the bonds tied around my ankle joint, my gleaming Joseph Black high-heels held luxuriously. My cloggy physical composition is smeared from Robert's buss and sweaty passion, my soften hair is strewn around the pillow framing my face. We are both panting.

Robert location himself further up the bed so that his member rubs against my scanty crotch. He reaches out and pulls the gusset of my panties to one side exposing the crevice of my ass now protected only by the gossamer thin head covering of my pantyhose.

I know what is coming and instinctively I try to agitate myself down into the mattress and away from the invasive member but Henry M. Robert takes hold of my waist and dig out his hands into me to hold me steady.

'' Oh no you do n't Michele ; arrest still while I tends to my penury, it will all be over soon '' he hisses.

His hard cock rubs against the thin gauzy nylon of my pantyhose and pushes the silken stuff into the scissure of my rear end. Then Robert adjusts his member so that his glans is nestled against the bud of my sphincter. I feel Henry Martyn Robert pull the gusset of my panty further across my tush so that he has an unobstructed view of his phallus poised at my rear entrance ; his erect member pushes the nylon of my pantyhose tight against my anatomical sphincter. He says something.

'' Don't forget the lubricator ! '' he whispers.

'' Whaat ? '' I stammer.

'' I think you will appreciate some lubricant about now Michele ! '' he says.

I reached under the pillow ; my manus hampered by the thraldom of the pantyhose tying it to the bedpost. I search for the thermionic valve of lube that I have put there previously this eventide in expectation of girly fun. I grasp it and take for it out to him.

'' No, you do it Michele, '' Henry Martyn Robert laughs.

He takes the tube of KY jelly and squeezes a big blob of the aplomb slippery liquid into my hand.

'' You do it ! And be nice and patrician I do n't want to come before I get it in you ! ``

I stretch my hand down to Robert's engorged manhood. It is rock'n'roll hard and I put my hand around it, it feels enormous and menacing, throbbing in my manus. Robert looks down to see me lying there with my legs wide apart, my high-heels held high in the air, my legs encased in my diaphanous rayons with my white satin step-in pushed to one side of my arse, exposing my rear. He watches as my long soft fingers, their red painted nails glimmering with the shine of the lubricant, slide feather-like up and down his arduous cock, coating it with a generous amount of KY jelly.

'' Oh Michele, you 're going to get it now ! '' he moans.

His hands move to my hips and I can finger his now well-lubricated glans pressing against my sphincter. But there is something preventing his entry ; the nylon gusset of my pantyhose ! He has n't pulled my pantyhose down or torn a mess in them !

'' Pantyhose ! '' I gasp.

'' Yes, I love them ! '' he exclaims and thrust his hips forward.

The head of his member slides inside my blotto pickle, the lube assists his entry but the nylon gusset of my sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose is also pushed inside me. The pain of having Henry Martyn Robert 's knockout cock pushing inside my sphincter is bad enough but the nylon wrapped around the head of his pecker is like ok emery paper against the bulwark of my rectum.

'' Oh God ! '' I groan in agony and then I look sideways to see myself reflected in a full-length wall-mounted mirror.

I am impaled on the foreland of Roberts 's putz as I lie there with my stage bed cover, wench hitched up and Oral Roberts 's gut wall hanging over me as he thrusts severe. His center close in concentration and ecstasy as he stuffs to a greater extent of his intumescent appendage inside me. My pantyhose grow tight around my arse and between my jetty as Robert personnel Thomas More of the sheer textile further inside me. He groans and holds me so tight that the pain in the neck is almost Thomas More than I can bear ; I feel a searing heat as my interior are invaded.

Suddenly the fragile nylon split and Richard J. Roberts 's well-lubricated shaft thrust itself all the way inside me as the resisting pantyhose gusset crying away. His cock is so big, and so thick inside me, that it knocks the wind out of me. I feel Robert 's thigh against mine, his skin whispering on my nyloned leg as he grinds into me. His bombastic gut is now resting firmly against my tummy and his bridge player give way and his wide weight pressure down on me.

'' Oops, do n't lessen down Henry Martyn Robert, '' he laughs, `` I 'm just about to come out the ride ! ``

He pushes himself back up and takes his weight on his limb and starts to kiss my neck opening. Then one of his hands fumbles around at the front of my fork. His helping hand strokes my slick thighs as he slowly rapes my back passage.

Robert starts to slowly thrust in and out of me, hardly moving his cock More than an inch in and out ; he is panting and slobbering at my cervix, kissing and licking me. I close my eyes and try to slack up my home muscles so that the pain in the neck in my game transition will subside.

Henry Martyn Robert 's hand strokes my thigh and groin as he slowly fucks me, he is obviously delighted in the flavor of the slinky nylon and satin on his skin because he is pushing his crotch hard against my buttocks on the in stroke. He begins to fuck me harder and faster, establishing a hard and dissolute rhythm method of birth control. I relax my anatomical sphincter and concentrate on keeping my vertebral column enactment loose to lodge him.

'' clear your centre squawk ! '' he gasps, `` Look ! ``

I open my eye and turn to face the mirror. Henry M. Robert is thrusting against me, his sweaty body glistening with exertion ; his hand is under the front panel of my panties ferreting around, pawing and stroking. He is alternately kissing me and slobbering at my neck. He thrusts in and out, pivoting his shank to get all of himself inside me, rubbing his balls on my nylon covered ass at the top of his in-stroke.

My back enactment is full and it aches as Robert's invading member slides in and out of me, but oh god, I begin to feel the spongy intemperate mint of his glans as they push against my prostate gland. I feel the outset ripple of sexual delight from my anal cavity.

I raise myself up so that my buttocks push up further and I sway my hips from face to side to increase Roberts 's pleasure and ensure my bum impertinence rub against him, as he obviously loves the feeling of that. I turn my chief back so that Robert can osculate my pouting lips.

Robert now starts to pound himself heavily in and out of me. I imagine that he can do some serious damage to my insides if he isn't careful ; but I still receive the wondrous tingle of excitement every time his cock massages my prostate. He fucks me firmly and harder and is grunting and panting really hard now. He grasps my coxa and pulls me hard up against him, thrusting forward and back. He jackhammers himself in and out of me, groaning and cursing.

'' Fucking bitch ! Fucking Whore ! Fucking admit this you cunt ! '' he screams.

He pushes in arduous and grates his balls against my arse as he shudders. His grip on my waist is like branding iron. I sense his cock starting to convulse inside me as it shudders and secretes his hot spend. Robert 's putz actually expands encourage and fill me completely and I think that the walls of my rachis transit will charge as Robert orgasms mystifying inside me. Jet after jet of hot seed flow into me as he rocks slowly back and Forth. His semen further lubricates his cock and any pain I am experiencing goes away immediately. Robert is hissing obscenities as his orgasm bloom. I feel his spend drip from my sphincter and run down into the crack of my arse.

As Henry Martyn Robert's glans pulsate and throb against my sensitive prostrate, washing it with his hot seed, I experience a stab of dainty sexual joy pulsing through me and simultaneously tighten up and blunder out into the front of my scanty. I shudder with pleasure although I feel utterly debased.

Robert pushes me down into the mattress and drag back so that his cock slides out of me, a torrent of his semen joins the trickle running down my quip and, as he lifts himself up, ball of semen drip from his fellow member onto my stocking tops and legs. I can't believe how often come he expended.

Robert leans down and osculate me total on the lips.

'' That was howling ; you are one hot tranny whore, '' he laughs.

Robert grabs a handful of my one-half slip and wipes his peter on it. The silverish gleam of semen and KY jelly soak into the Edward White satin fabric.

I am left prevarication on the bed my article of clothing dishevelled, with my branch akimbo and my case and stockings stained with semen, my ankle and radiocarpal joint still pathetically bound to the bedposts by the pantyhose restraints.

'' Satisfied ? '' I inquire.

'' Certainly. Are you ? '' Robert responds.

'' Well ; maybe just a lilliputian constructive critique if you don't idea. '' I answer easily removing the pantyhose restraints and getting up off the bed. I pull down my slip and skirt ; adjust them over my thigh and reach for my cigarettes.

I walk over to where my webcam is mounted on top of my laptop, strategically positioned to take in a widescreen view of my bed. I blow a kiss into the lens of the webcam and close it off. I close my website down on the laptop and log off from the Internet.

'' fountainhead honey you were fifteen minute of arc late getting here ; the punters on my website expect the show to embark on at nine p.m. sharp ! '' I chasten him.

'' I couldn't find the fucking key to the front end door ; I'm sure you said the third flowerpot on the left of the windowsill, '' Henry Martyn Robert complains.

'' Ok, but next meter try to get started on metre ; and you need to be thrifty when you dry bonk me like that. You nearly lost control and came all over me ; which I actually wouldn't mind, but the punter want to see me get a near nooky. '' I said

'' Also, those pantyhose are the most pathetic bondage restraints. I know that you need the freedom to steer me around the bed and have me wank you and so on, but we need some more believable simpleness. Also, maybe you could threaten me with a tongue or something ? '' I went on.

'' That might work, '' Henry Martyn Robert answered, `` I could use it to cut the privates out your knickerbockers before I fuck you ; for a more striking issue, '' he smiled.

'' And that's another matter hun, you know I like it rough but that trick of pushing my pantyhose inside me wrapped around your cock is only ever going to materialise again if you use twice as much lube ! '' I snap.

'' I'm sorry peach ; I though you might like it for something dissimilar, '' he smiles sheepishly.

I walk over to where he is standing, still naked, and tend in and kiss him. I take his shaft in my hired hand and wrapping a stockinged leg around his as I embrace him. I whisper in his ear.

'' And finally darling, I love you and I love your cock dearly ; but you could lose a few pounds, '' I giggle into his ear and softly bosom his hardening prick .