1 comments/ 107549 views/ 10 favorites From Straight To Slightly Bent By: Akito01 It is an arrangement we create in secret. Each of us with our own lives, and our own partners, but also each with our own unfulfilled desires. You; you crave to seduce a straight man to the point you would have him treat you as his woman, his bitch. Me; I am restless and curious, seething beneath a placid exterior. The opportunity to have someone under my sexual control is something I cannot ignore, even though it is with someone of my own gender. I come to you; alone. Tonight, you are alone as well. I am wearing my usual long coat, against the fall chill of the late evening. My expression is equally cold and serious. This is not a meeting I take lightly, not at all. 'Causal' is a term others might apply for their sexual proclivities, but I've never had the freedom to be that way. We've never met in person before, but you know who I am, and what I'm here for. I think this meeting was as inevitable for you as it is for me, but still I feel compelled to explain my presence. "What I need is someone who and will do whatever I want," I tell you. "I've never been with a partner who I felt completely and totally free to be myself with, at least not sexually. I don't know what it's like to be with a man in bed, but tonight at least I am going to be selfish and I am going to enjoy myself. You will do this for me." I'm determined to make you into my ideal lover, by whatever means. To be that way, you must be attractive in my eyes. By stages, I will oversee this transformation. First must come the shower, which you will take alone, and then you must shave as much body hair as possible. At the very least, I want your legs as smooth as spun silk. Next comes the black pantyhose, which I take some delight in watching as you pull them on. I've always thought an attractive pair of hose can increase the attractiveness of anyone, but I probably have something of a fetish that way. Next comes the lace bustier, fitted with falsies to give you the illusion of a modest but well defined bosom. The hourglass shape suggests a feminine form, and I can already see the transformation beginning to work. I want you all in black, because black is mysterious and tragic, and I'm in a black mood. I watch you pull on the long dark gown I've instructed you to wear, doing up the zipper for you at the back once it is on. The skirt hem is long, as are the sleeves, in a mock Victorian style. You carefully and firmly affix the Asian style wig, the hair framing your face in a flattering manner. Seated at the vanity, I watch at a distance while you do your makeup. With the foundation placed, you do your eyes in dark mascara, and your lips dark red. I feel my mouth grow dry as the ritual comes to a close. "Stand," I command you. Being forceful and firm is the only way to disguise my nervousness. You obey, and come to stand before me in the ill lit bedroom. "Turn," I say, wishing to see you from every angle. The effect is more than pleasing. In this light, you have the caste of some exotic woman, who's imperfect features only serve to make her all the more interesting. I begin to feel my reservations wash away as I look at what I've turned you into. I come from behind, and wrap my arms around your chest. "Be still," I tell you, "Let me do this the way I want." I press my lips to the bare skin of your shoulder, holding you just that much tighter. I press myself against you, my pelvis rubbing against the swell of your ass through the dress. I kiss your flesh, not thinking about the gender of the person I am embracing, only feeling the contours of the body I have against mine and the taste of your skin. "I want you to undress me," I instruct you, "Every bit of it. Start with the coat. Turning my back to you, you obligingly remove my long coat, laying it to the side. I turn back to face you as you pull my matt black t-shirt up and off my frame, letting you see me bare chest. I am thin but not athletic, with a dark patch of hair across my torso. You are on your knees now, removing my shoes, socks and finally my trousers. I gently run a hand through your faux black hair, and across your cheek. Finally, it comes time to remove my briefs, and my organ is now revealed to both our eyes. My heart is racing, and my throat goes dry at the prospect I am now naked with another man, and what I have come here for. "Touch it," I finally tell you, again making my voice hard to disguise any discomfort. "Stroke it. Do whatever you can to make me hard." I decide to remove my glasses. Without the ability to focus clearly, everything in the room takes on a dreamy, hazy appearance. With nimble fingers, you stroke the soft supple length of my penis, feeling the glans, knowing how effective that is. In full erection, it is just under seven inches, with a surprising amount of girth and a slight curve to one side. Your face is so close that I almost think you will take it into your mouth. But of course you will only do what I tell you, and I decide that there is something else I want to do first. "Get up," I tell you. "Sit on the edge of the bed." Nodding, you do as instructed as I approach you. I feel strangely powerful like this, my erection presented so brazenly, and you still clad in your dress and hose. Ravishment is my game, or so I imagine. I so adore the idea of taking and ravishing a prim woman, that I, at this moment, can easily block out the fact the person I am with is in fact not a woman. Instead, I come to your side and smother my face once again in your neck, roughly pushing an excited hand up along the length of your leg, seeking it's entrance past the hem of your skirt. I push you down onto the covers, looking down the length of your body as I finally reach my goal. I can feel your cock through the thin gauze of the pantyhose, and I pause. This is the first time I've touched another man's erection. If there was any moment when my reserve would leave me, this would be it, but my hand remains there, and I know now that I'm not going to balk. Instead, I sensuously rub your length with the palm of my hand, as if rubbing the pubis of a woman to arouse her clit. Your length is much easier to find than that tiny organ. What do I do now, my mind quickly races, what now? Without letting myself think any further, I press my mouth against your red painted lips and do something I'd never have imagined I would; kiss another of my own sex in a wanton and passionate way. My hand clutches at your hardened erection, and I find myself pressing my own cock against your thigh, rubbing against the nylon. I've plunged myself into this so quickly that I cannot take the chance of slowing down or stopping now. I must be satisfied. "You're going to be a good girl now and take me into your mouth," I say, shuffling myself up more firmly on the bed. I hold the back of your neck and guide my glans past your open lips, then gently push myself even further in your mouth. I can feel your tongue against my sensitive tip, and how your lips close over my shaft to create a rhythmic suction. I lay on my side, rubbing one hand along the stretch of your back, hoping to wordlessly communicate my feelings through my touch. I watch the top of your head as you continue to suck and stimulate my prick. Still clad in your dark enveloping dress, you look like a 19th century housemaid, being forced to serve the needs of her master. "That's good," I encourage you, closing my eyes. By now, you must be able to taste the clear trail of pre-cum that is oozing from the end of my penis. This is as far as I've gone in all my previous experiences with fellatio. Never has a woman deemed to let me come inside her in this manner. Tonight would be different. With unreal skill, your lips and tongue and the action of your sucking have brought me to the inevitable edge of orgasm. Even if I wanted to stop now, it would be impossible. My only warning to you is an ungainly grunt, then I let loose with torrid strands of ejaculate. My orgasm is incredible, and I hold onto you the entire time, never wanting this pleasure to end. In the aftermath, I hug you close, catching my breath and feeling your body beneath me. I don't want this evening to end quite yet, not this soon. I still want to feel and explore the contours of your body, to turn up your skirt and feel those freshly shaved legs sheathed in dark nylon. I slip my hand inside the waistband of your hose, now gripping your hard naked erection. Spooning your body, I clasp you in one arm, gripping one of your faux breasts. I kiss the length of bare skin at your neck and shoulders, while my hand strokes your cock in the same way I would masturbate my own. The fact that this is another man's penis barely enters my mind. All I am consumed with is the sense of power that comes from being in control of someone else's sexual arousal. I set to work now, determined to see you come. I tweak and stroke the soft skin of your glans, urging the pre-cum to emerge from the slit at the end of your organ. As it comes, I slow down the action of my strokes, now milking the fluid and feeling it trickle over your cock and my fingers. "Do it," I rasp, "Come for me." With the waistband of the pantyhose pulled down out of the way, I am free to rub your cock as hard and fast as I please, bending it down away from your body in the way that always drives me mad. I can feel your body grow tense, and despite the shortcomings of my inexpert technique, I have driven you to the edge and over. Your semen comes out in hot warm gushes, spilling over my hand and the soft insides of the upturned skirt. I don't pull away, but rather let it all come out as I stroke you slower and slower. The pungent scent of the stuff begins to fill the air. The wig is now slightly unseated. The illusion has been broken. Suddenly self conscious, I rush to the bathroom. I rinse my hands clean, as if to erase all evidence of my adultery. It is true; I have now had sex with a man. Looking myself in the mirror, I reflect on this and quickly realize -it wasn't that bad at all. In fact, the night is still young... From Straight To Slightly Bent h. 02 My decision to continue the affair is not a clear cut one. In the past, I never would have considered myself the sort of person who would cheat on their mate. On the other hand, I continued to play out the events of our first night together in my head, and all the things that I could still yet do to you... In the end, I knew I had to have you again. The fact I was cheating on someone of my own gender was troubling, but if it had been an ordinary woman who also gave themselves over to me as you have, I don't think I would have felt differently. This was about power, not gender -or at least, that's how I chose to see it at the time. Maybe it was simply the allure of cheap and easy sex, proof that frustrated man will fuck anything with an available hole. We arrange another 'date'. I promise to make this coming evening at least as special as last time, and that even more might be required of you. I leave this last statement ambiguous, but I know almost exactly what I want to do. I buy a new Cheongsam dress, the classic style of Chinese apparel that always looks very exotic and classy. It's with a strange sense of guilt that I realize that I've never spent this much on any particular item of clothing for my current girlfriend. Truth is, she would never fit into it anyway. There must be something ironic in the fact that of my two current lovers, the one with the more feminine physich is actually a man. I also buy a couple of even less pragmatic accessories. I feel a bit like a criminal planning his latest crime. I don't think I've ever been so excited at the prospect of an evening's tryst, regardless of partner. I arrive at your door, no earlier or later than the time agreed to. We both had to make sure we had the time to be alone, and that our alibis to our significant others were all in order beforehand. We may be foolish in the pursuit of our lusts, but we aren't stupid. As soon an I am in your presence, I once again feel that cold, seething emotion that isn't quite anger, but which is definitely a bulwark against expressing any weakness or concern. Tonight, you are to be my tool, and I remind myself of this fact as I look at you. The last thing I want to do is lose my resolve at this critical moment. Despite the fact we have done this once before, there is still a large part of my conscious that is rebelling against this. In the realm of fantasy, I have played this evening over and over, but to look you in the eye and be in your presence, and knowing what it is we have come together for, it is more difficult than I let on. I sometimes wonder how it is for you. To give yourself over to someone else, to give them complete power, entails a great deal of trust I may not be worthy of given how short a time we have known each other. "I think you know what I want," I say. "Now, get changed." I hand you the large garment bag, containing the gift that I wish you to wear for me. This time I permit you to shower and prepare in private, allowing you that much dignity. Well, perhaps that is not the right way to put it. I think I worry that, seeing you as a man, I might lose my nerve. I will wait and see what the final transformation will bring. I know, or at least suspect, that the whole cross-dressing thing isn't your typical style, but I simply cannot get beyond that, not yet. It's become too much part of the game, at least for me. It's part of the expression of control that I dictate your appearance when we are together. With the wig in place, and your make up applied, the momentary illusion of an exotic if flawed Asian seductress has been created. I know that it is a fiction, but one I am content to live with. I can only imagine how it is for you. Is it different to have the eyes of a straight man look at you in passion than your usual lovers? In the past, if I'd thought a man was looking at me that way, I'm sure my skin would have crawled. I must be a terrible hypocrite. The dress is flattering on you. Colored a deep green with an ornate gold pattern, the skirt is slit high on the side to show off your legs, sheathed in the shiny tan hose. With proper heels, you legs would undoubtedly appear even more ladylike, but you don't own a pair, and I didn't bring any, so you remain in bare stockinged feet, which I find I rather like anyway. I get you to spin around to show yourself off to me, then to get you and I a drink. Your eyes lowered, I only permit you to stand as I sit on the couch to sip the scotch you have provided. You really have used a fair amount of eye shadow this time, I note. It's a pleasing effect, and I remark on it, telling you what an attractive woman you make. I have you show yourself off to me, going so far as to make you stand on the coffee table and pose as per my instructions. "You're a terrific little vixen," I smile, "Why don't you show me just how much of one you are. Work it. Show me how turned on you are." You take the cue, seductively gliding one hand from your bra-stuffed bosom down the stretch of your abdomen towards your crotch. Your eyes close, and you raise the hem of your dress so that I can see the well defined outline of your cock through the pantyhose. You lick your lips in a slow circle as you brazenly rub and caress your own erection through the thin nylon. Mouth going dry, I drain the last of my drink in a final gulp. I gather my bag and remove one of the special items I intend to use tonight; a pair of handcuffs. "Get down from there," I order you. Hardly giving you time to think, I force your arms behind your back and handcuff your wrists together. I tell you to be still, but also not to be afraid. I circle around you, noting your restive expression. No doubt you have no idea what will come next, and I must confess I am not so certain either. Looking at your hands trapped by the cold circlets of metal, I reflect that a little nail polish probably would have helped complete the illusion. Women's fingers are always a little more delicate and refined than mens. Still, I could pretend. At first, I only prowl around you, trailing a hand over your body as I do so; over your chest, your arms, your back, your neck and your face. I come to stand before you, looking you brazenly in the eye as I slip my thumb between your lips and force open your mouth. I bend forward as if to kiss you, but instead I grab the back of your neck and pull, putting you terribly off balance. Throwing you forward over the arm of the couch, I roughly move your legs further apart, making it impossible for you to get up. I press myself against your upturned ass, my hands gliding up the backs of your thighs, feeling the texture of the nylon. I quickly strip off my shirt, continuing to press my pelvis against your skirt covered bottom. My erection must be obvious to both of us by now. Undoing my belt, I pull down my trousers and underpants, leaving them as a bundle at my feet. With your face against the cushions, you look awkwardly back at me as I pull up more of your dress, slipping my erection underneath in order to rub my cock against your pantyhose sheathed buttocks. From your restive movements, your own cock must be engorged as well, as you squirm against the rounded arm of the couch to stimulate yourself. I order you to remain as you are as I remove myself, finally taking off my shoes with the rest of my clothes. Reaching inside the bundle to my pocket, I take out one of the last items I had prepared -a tri-pack of lubricated condoms. I pull you up from the couch and move you over to the wall. I make you lean against it, face first, your shoulders taking most of the weight. I run my hands all over you, from your neck to your knees, placing kisses as I go. I murmur in your ear about how hot you are making me, and how good I am going to make you feel. My hands slide audaciously underneath the hem of your dress until I am feeling your prick underneath the hose. I press against your length with my palm, feeling you tremble with the erotic pressure. I then release you, and proceed to pull down the waistband of your nylons to just below your buttocks. I open one of the condom packs and roll the slippery plastic sheath down over the two most prominent fingers of my right hand. Since one of my favorite things to do with any woman I am with is to tease and stroke her from the inside, I intend to do the same to you. Making sure your legs are well apart, I press my rubber covered fingers against the opening of your anus. After a brief moment of resistance, my two appressed digits penetrate within you. I feel the soft, tender tissues of your rectum. It's much tighter than any vagina, but with something of the same soft feeling. It occurs to me that while I always had to be careful while probing my girlfriend not to touch her sensitive cervix, here there were no such worries. In fact, I knew from what I'd read, that the prostate could be reached and stimulated this way. Looking over at your tense and hardening erection, I wonder if it weren't possible to bring you to orgasm this way. Not being a doctor, I'm not entirely certain what I should be feeling for, but I begin to gently probe around. Perhaps this would be better with bare fingers, but that's not something I would have been comfortable with. Even so, I think I have found that golden spot, especially from the way your erection practically jumps as I rub it. I'm sure I must be smiling at this point, and I lock into a steady rhythm. Your cock is rock hard and quivering. Drops of pre-cum drool slide from the slit and coat your glans. The feeling must be ecstatic; I can tell from your face. You are on your toes now, straining for release. Continuing to finger fuck you, my digits curling to access that elusive prostate, I watch with unblinking eyes for the moment of crisis. I can feel a sudden tightening from within, and you let out an uncontrollable grunt as your untouched penis ejaculates in thick long spurts. You collapse slowly onto your knees, just as the splashes of semen begin to trickle down the wall as well. Whether it is drama, or you are genuinely wiped out by the intensity of the experience, I don't know, but seeing you prostrate on the floor as the result of your orgasm is incredibly arousing. I turn you on your side, and kneeling down beside you, direct my prick to your lips. Painted red, your lipstick leaves a slight smear on my glans as it brushes against you before you open your mouth and take my erection. My eyes close, and my hands grasp the back of your shoulders as you start to suck me. I let my mind drift in an abstract haze as you work your tongue against me, only capable of using your mouth to arouse and stimulate me with your hands still bound awkwardly behind your back. In complete control, I thrust my hips in a short motion, fucking your mouth as I become more and more excited. "No, wait, I want to do it," I pant, making the spur of the moment decision, "I want to do it inside you. I want to fuck you." In a panicked rush, I open another package and swiftly roll the slick condom down over my tense quivering erection. I move you back towards the couch. Laying you flat, your legs dangling off the edge, I press myself on top of you, wrapping an arm around your torso. With one hand around my cock, I guide the tip against your slack anus, applying steady pressure. Soon your muscles relax, and my glans are practically sucked up inside you. I continue to gently insert the remainder of my penis, amazed at the feeling. I have never had, or even been interested in anal sex before. It's definitely different that good ol' vaginal sex, much tighter. I begin to pump inside you in short, sharp digs. From your labored breathing, I have no idea if what I'm doing is hurting or pleasing you, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is how I feel, and it feels damn good. I am not going to last very long at all like this. There is so much pressure all over my cock, so much warmth. I grit my teeth, looking down at your sexy, shiny legs and my own rough naked pelvis jutting against yours. I grasp your hips tightly, feeling the inevitable crest of pleasure rise within my tightening balls. I come hard, my seed filling the deeply buried teat of the latex condom. Bracing my arms on either side of your shoulders, I loom over you as I ride the waves of my orgasm, and remain like that until those feelings fade away and my softened erection slides out of your behind. "You're a great little fuck, bitch," I rasp, still giddy from the experience. I only release you from the cuffs after extracting the promise that we shall meet yet again for another evening's fun. Again, my mind is brimming with all the yet to be realized possibilities, though at the same time, I wonder if I'm falling headlong into some potentially dangerous territory. Is this the road to greater self awareness, or self destruction?