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Alley Girl
[Mm(transv.),
oral(1st), nc(?)]
I�ve been dressing as a girl for as long as I can remember. I�ve been caught a few times by my family, so in the back of their minds they know I�m a transvestite, but it was never discussed, and I think they forget for the most part. I�ve always gone out of my way to hide it from them, so there are few reminders.
It took me a
long time to come to terms with what I am, mainly because of the reaction of
society to the concept of gender experimentation. I was lead to believe that dressing as a
girl when you weren�t was a deviant thing to do, and although I never suffered
any self-destructive thoughts as a result, I went into deep denial about my true
self. An incident that occurred
when I was 14 changed all of that, and brought who I am into sharp
focus.
It was my
habit then to restrict my dressing up to the times when I could absolutely
guarantee I would have the house to myself. However, and I have subsequently found
this to be in common with a lot of my kind, at times of stress I would feel the
need to push the boundaries of my �hobby� and I found late-night excursions out
of the family home in my feminine role to provide this release
mechanism.
I would wait
in my room, ostensibly watching TV or doing homework, until long after my
parents had gone to bed at their usual 10.30 or 11pm. I would then make my way silently
downstairs, and out to the garage, where I would have secreted a bundle of
clothing earlier in the evening.
This was to avoid the chance of getting caught half-way down the stairs
dressed in my finest girl clothes.
I would
dress by the light of a torch hidden from sight behind the family car, often
using glances at a pornographic magazine to provide the excitement stimulus to
counteract my intense nervousness at what I was about to do. I would never let myself go too far in
terms of masturbation, though, as I knew that this would deflate my resolve
before I had even had a chance to set foot outside.
Then,
dressed daringly and as prettied up as I could make myself, I would take the
spare key from it�s hiding place, open the back door, and slip out into the
alley behind the house. This was
visible from my own bedroom, but not my parents�, so I was fairly sure of not
being seen, and certain of it if I kept to the shadows.
The night in
question had begun like this, with me choosing a tight black mini-dress, leather
jacket, black tights, and bare feet as my outfit for the evening. I know stockinged feet sound like an
unusual choice, but I loved the feeling of my feet encased in the lycra of the
tights, getting wet from the night�s rain.
I�m not a foot fetishist by nature, but I have a healthy liking for the
feelings my own feet can experience.
My particular favourite was walking in snow in stockinged feet, as I
could be sure of some measure of protection from stones and such, and yet feel a
connection with my environment that you can�t get by wearing shoes, and
certainly not the restrictive yet sexy high-heeled girls shoes or knee-boots
that I prefer.
I had
dressed, and made my way from the house as per normal. Once outside I had a number of
choices. Often I would simply stay
in the shadows, revelling in the feel of being outside in taboo clothes. Otherwise I might pluck up the courage
to venture further away from my house, in one of two directions. Round the corner and a few minutes walk
northwards would bring my to the local shops, where I would occasionally go to
post a letter, or simply to walk around the block and back. Alternatively I could strike out
eastwards, further into the housing estates of my area, but also further towards
the pubs that would be letting the drunks out at around the same time as I would
be exploring. I avoided this
direction as a rule, but on occasion rules are meant to be broken, so I
did.
I had
indulged in a furious masturbation session before coming out, stopping just
short of cumming more than once. As
a result I was incredibly turned on by the thought of wandering around an area
where people might see me, and might possibly mistake me for a girl. In those days I didn�t have to make too
much of an effort to pass as a girl � I was skinny, long legged, youthful of
face, and had hair just long enough to be styled girlishly with a bit of
gel. Add the right clothes and a
bit of make-up and no-one would have looked twice, especially in the dark. Not that I had the confidence to try
this theory out.
I knew my
outfit was sexy, and that the dress was short enough to reveal such an enticing
expanse of leg that most guys would never even have looked as far as my face
anyway. My bra was stuffed with
some thick rolled-up socks, and my cock was tucked away inside my matching satin
panties, so the outward appearance of a girl was good
enough.
This
particular night my horniness would be my undoing, as I turned left out of the
end of the alley, and set off for the estates.
Half an hour
later my feet were beginning to hurt from walking on the wet pavements, and I
had passed several people without them batting an eyelid at my appearance, so I
was high on success. Due to the
late hour, though, I was also increasingly nervous, and had long since turned my
path towards home.
As I turned
into the road off which my alley lead, I saw a man ahead, alone, and walking in
a way that suggested he was the worse for drink. As I was almost home, I increased my
speed rather than turn the other way, and come back via a different route,
hoping to get to the alley before I had to pass him. I was too excited to be really worried,
and I was looking forward to an excellent cum later in
bed.
The alley,
however, was closer to him than it was to me, and we reached it at pretty much
the same time. I had my head
lowered, trying not to catch his eye, but didn�t want to head off down the alley
while he was there, and so hung back at the entrance. His noticed, and paused, looking me up
and down.
�How much?�
he slurred. I looked blank and
didn�t answer.
�I said, how
much?� he repeated, a little more aggressively. I looked nervously behind me, hoping
that no-one could see the encounter from my house.
�Are you a
prossie or what?� he said, coming to stand in front of me. I finally looked him in the face, and
could smell the alcohol on his breath.
I don�t know why it hadn�t dawned on me what he was talking about
before.
�No, I�m
not,� I answered, in my best imitation of a girl�s voice. Fortunately, at 14 my voice was still
high enough to pass without raising suspicion.
��Course you
are � look at the way you�re dressed.
And who else would be out alone at this time of night?� Despite the drink his logic was good,
but I didn�t think he�d appreciate being told the truth. As a full grown man, he was larger than
me, and I was in no doubt that he would win if he decided he wanted to
fight.
�OK, I am,
but I�m on my way home, I�m not working now,� I said, thinking fast, and hoping
to placate him.
�Well, one
more won�t hurt you. Bit more
money, eh?� He said, and I realised he wasn�t going to take no for an
answer. �Got any
rubbers?�
�No,� I
replied, truthfully.
�That�s ok,
I�ll just take a blow-job without.
Twenty do you?� he said, offering me the money. It was crunch time. Either I could run and hide somewhere
until he�d gone, or I could go along with what he was suggesting. I didn�t fancy my chances of escaping
him in bare feet, even though he was drunk, as my feet were far too sore. I also didn�t want to make a break for
home, as I would never have been able to get the door unlocked before he caught
up to me, and then he would know where I lived. I had no choice.
I took the
money he was holding out for me, and walked slowly back down the alley into the
shadows. He followed, and
positioned me between him and the wall.
I realised with a sick feeling in my stomach that I could see my bedroom
window from where I stood, and knew that whenever I looked out of it to this
spot I would be reminded of this moment.
�Don�t mind
if I relieve meself first?� he asked, and turned aside without waiting for a
reply. He unzipped his jeans, and
fished his cock out of his pants.
It wasn�t yet hard, but I could tell it would be thick when it
was.
Lifting his
head and sighing, he let go with a stream of dark gold urine onto the wall
beside me. I could see them steam
rising from it, smell it�s pungent odour, and feel the hot splashes of it
against my legs as it sprayed the brickwork. I stood submissively by, held there by
fear, while he emptied his bladder, and then looked down in horror as the pool
of strong piss reached my feet. I
began to step sideways, but the man reached out to take hold of my shoulder with
his free hand, as much to steady himself as to prevent me from leaving. I was held there as the piss collected
around my stockinged feet, soaking into my already wet tights. Finally the stream dried up, and he
shook his cock to get rid of the last few drops.
�There, now
your turn,� he said, and applied pressure to my shoulder to indicate where I
should go. I knelt as per his
directions, my knees making contact with the urine around me on the floor,
further degrading me. He was by
this time wanking himself quite hard, and his cock had swelled
considerably. He positioned himself
in front of me, and held my head with one hand, while guiding his cock towards
my face with the other.
As it�s
purple head made contact with my lips, I opened my mouth, finally accepting my
horrible fate. The piss that had
not been shaken from the end of his cock smeared itself onto my glossed lips,
and the smell washed up my nose, making me nauseous.
He continued
with his push forward, and I had time to take a deep breath through my nose
before he reached the back of my mouth and started thrusting. It was all I could do to stop from
gagging. Both from the repeated contact of his cock on the back of my throat,
and from the pungent taste of it, but he didn�t seem to
mind.
He held my
held steady as he fucked my face like a pussy, whispering drunkenly for me to
suck it like the little bitch slut that I was. I did so gradually, finding that he
stopped banging the back of my mouth as long as there was suction applied to the
sides of his cock. I held onto his
legs for balance as he assaulted my face for almost ten minutes, wet sounds and
his whispering filling the alley.
Thankfully
no-one saw us hidden in the shadows, and no-one twitched their curtains in
curiosity. I knew that it would be
far better for me to accept what was happening than do anything to stop it, as
the consequences of the latter would last far longer.
He had hold
of the back of my head, and my hands were on his thighs stopping myself from
being pulled too far forward. His
humping was beginning to become more erratic, and I knew instinctively that he
was trying to hold off from Cumming.
This didn�t last long, though, and with a couple of final hard heaves
into me his cock began to twitch and spurt thick globs of cum into my
mouth. I coughed as the bitter
spunk caught the back of my throat, and some was coughed up my nose. Some dribbled its way past my lips
around the base of his shaft, but to my shame more still found it�s way down my
throat, as I began to swallow his seed.
He made the
usual male orgasm noises, grunting and swearing, urging me to milk his cock, and
use my tongue. His hand was still
tight on the back of my head, and I knew that I had no choice but to keep
sucking him until he decided we were finished.
Fortunately,
his cock seemed to become very sensitive post-orgasm, and he pulled out of my
mouth fairly quickly.
�Good girl,� he whispered. �There�s nothing you lasses like better than a good bellyful of cum, is there? Especially you prossies.� I simply knelt there is his piss, cum staining the sides of my mouth, and avoided his gaze.
�I might
come back, you know. Become a
regular. Nice mouth you�ve got on
you,� he said as he pushed his shrinking cock back into his pants. �See you next time!� And with that he was
gone.
I stayed
still, in shock at what I�d just done, what I�d allowed to be done to me. His cum tasted so strong, and was
burning my nasal passages where I�d coughed it up. I felt queasy, but knew I wouldn�t be
sick � I hated that more than almost anything in the world, even, I discovered,
spunk. Eventually I roused myself,
and staggered back home.
Back in the
safety of my parent�s garage I stripped off my now ruined tights, and disposed
of them in the bin. I changed
back into my normal clothes, de-feminising my hair and removing my make-up. I held the twenty the man had paid me,
and suddenly felt a change come over me.
I had crossed the line from playing dress-up to being a tranny slut,
and I realised I liked it. I
had survived what some people would consider to be an oral rape, and had not
only performed well enough for my identity to remain a secret, but I had profited
from it. While I didn�t think
I�d be starting a career as a hooker any time soon, I knew that I had taken
the first steps towards realising my bisexuality, and that this blow job would
not be the last�
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