The Neighbours birthday party
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The Neighbour's Knickers - Part 4 free porn video
It was the wolf-whistle which started it.
Justine looked across at me sharply. “See?”
My heart had been beating out of my chest from the moment I’d stepped out of the front door dressed as Petra. What had been private had, at that point become very, very public.
Anyone could have seen me.
“But they won’t see you, Peter,” Justine had said with utmost confidence. “They’ll see a schoolgirl in her gym kit.”
“Not if they take a peek under my skirt.” Justine’s blue gym knickers were strained to bursting point by my throbbing erection. For all the fear, there was overwhelming excitement at being outside for the first time in female clothes.
I was literally outing myself as a cross-dresser.
“It is exciting,” Justine said, smiling at herself in a reflection of the porch windows as she re-arranged her boobs within the too-tight-top. Having checked her own boobs, she checked-out my fake chest coconuts.
Black pumps.
Flat.
White socks.
Knee high.
Pleated skirt.
Grey.
Knickers.
Blue.
Cotton jersey.
White.
Bra.
White.
Our uniforms matched completely. The only difference was the cups of my bra were filled with soft-feel silicon inserts, whereas the cups of Justine’s bra were filled with real breasts.
B cups.
Justine had come to appreciate her breasts in a different light; before she’d caught me trying on this very uniform in her bedroom, Justine had felt that her breasts were a little on the small side. It was an informed judgement, given that newspaper articles were reporting that the average bust measurement was 36DD.
Justine had admitted to feeling inadequate right until the moment she had made me squeeze my male chest into her bra. Since that moment, the soft-feel silicon inserts had been exclusively available for my use.
I’d never thought that I’d be wearing them as we walked down the road together.
“How do you feel, Petra?”
“Scared shitless. Excited.”
“I have to admit that for a guy, you make a really cute girl. I’m getting a little aroused watching you myself.”
“Is that what this is about?” I asked.
“Imagine what it’s going to feel like, Petra, when I get you home and push my big fake cock deep into your arse and wank you off into my knickers.”
I did as I was told.
Imagined.
My knees almost buckled at the thought.
“And remember the private slumber party,” Justine continued as we turned onto the high street. “With me and the girls… and you, Petra. Me sharing you with them.” It was something which Justine had brought up again and again: the next time her parents were away, she’d invite all her female friends round and…
It had been a different scenario each time.
Sometimes Justine thought she’d keep my cock under wraps and the fun would be playing the game together, keeping the secret against her friends.
However, most of the time, Justine’s fantasies concentrated on how she would make the big reveal and how her friends would react.
How would Justine’s friends react when they saw Petra’s cock?
Petra’s cock was aching so badly that I wasn’t paying as much attention to my surroundings as I should have been. “That was for us,” Justine said.
“What was?”
“That wolf whistle.”
The wolf whistle.
The calling card of builders everywhere. I’d heard them a thousand times but I’d never paid them much attention. And I’d certainly never been the recipient of one.
But there he was in the bus stop we’d walked past, looking out.
No: he wasn’t looking.
He was leering.
Not at me; but rather at the school-girl version of me.
“Come-on, Petra, let’s go and have some fun,” Justine said, pulling me back the way we’d come.
“Juzzy!”
Justine stopped.
“What did you call me?”
My brain was empty and I had to think about the shape that my mouth had formed. “Juzzy?”
“Since when was I ‘Juzzy’?”
“I… err.” In my head: that’s where the reality of ‘Mistress Justine’ had softened into the teenage fantasy of ‘Juzzy’ – the kind of girl who had ‘normal’ nuzzly sex, rather than pounding, pornographic sex. “Sometimes I like to think about us having a more normal boyfriend/girlfriend type of relationship.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Petra.” ‘Juzzy’ ran that last comment back through her head and smiled. “Or something like that. Now you just keep your mouth shut until I tell you, OK?” I smiled a reply as we made our final approach.
Would I pass for a schoolgirl?
The way the schoolboy swallowed his fear told me that it was a definite possibility: I remembered that fear; here he was suddenly outnumbered and outgunned.
“Wotcha?” Justine said, with an up-flick of her chin. The tone made it sound like an off-hand-generic-greeting as well as an interrogation as to the schoolboy’s intent.
Are you friend or foe?
I felt a pang of common suffering as the testosterone-fuelled Adam’s apple tried to hide in the lad’s throat. My laryngeal prominence was safely hidden behind an upturned collar.
“Listen… I didn’t mean nuffink.”
“So you don’t fink we’s fit?” Justine challenged, sounding as though she was chewing gum.
The Adam’s apple headed South once again. “I didn’t mean -”
“So you do fink we’s fit?” Justine did something subtle with her tits which made the boy’s eyes bulge. “You sixteen, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You better not be shitting me…”
“I ain’t shitting you.”
“Coz me and Petra here was finking about piping some 16-year-old cock, wasn’t we, Pets?” I nodded, too shocked to say anything. “And yoz bein’ 16 an’ all.” The boy fumbled for his wallet and presented his bus pass. “Nice one, Michael.” Justine glanced in my direction. “So… you’s up fer it, or what? Getting piped by Petra?”
That last was surely for my benefit, especially as it was accompanied by a sneaky grab and squeeze of my knicker-clad cock.
Michael looked at me. Surely this would be the moment I was to be exposed?
Unfrocked.
It was all very well playing games in the safety of Justine’s bedroom… I thought…
But I was underestimating the desire of a schoolboy to get his cock sucked by a real girl; since I wasn’t a real girl, I understood that need better than any schoolgirl would have done. The blinding mist of desperation and desire rising uncontrolled from the loins…
If I was Michael, I would have jumped at the chance as well: who knew what was making these girls behave like pimped-up prostitutes? And how long it would last. When I was 16, just talking to girls was amazing. Justine jostling her tits like that would have been enough for a season’s worth of wank fantasies….
Like a lot of schoolboys, to get my cock actually touched by a girl was unthinkable.
Michael looked as though he fell into that category. He didn’t look too closely; didn’t see past the make-up or the scared eyes. “Where?” That was all he wanted to know; where we were going to do the dirty deed.
Where? That was all I wanted to know too.
“Back o’ Woolies,” Justine replied. Woolworths hadn’t been there since 2009 but everyone still called it ‘Woolies’. I could tell Justine was loving it, even though she was careful to show only her poker face.
She’d dressed me, done my make-up and had now passed the schoolboy test. As Justine led me by the hand, Michael followed eagerly. “Told ya!” she said exultantly. She’d put her skills to the test, and passed with flying colours.
The next thing I knew, the three of us were alone in a scrubby area which had served as a delivery yard. The knee-high weeds in the cracks of the concrete told of the lack of through traffic: people didn’t come here any more, let alone vehicles.
It was the perfect place.
“Show us your cock,” Justine said, drawing attention by standing in front of me.
“You show me your tits.” Justine and I looked at each other. The contents of her bra were much more likely to pass as teenage tits than my sweat-softened silicon inserts. Justine gave a casual shrug before hefting up her sports top. “Fuck… in… hell.”
Forget about hell, Michael was sure that he’d caught a ladder all the way up to Heaven. He fumbled at his school trousers, and I kind of forgot why we were here.
And who I was.
I was genuinely shocked at how well-developed Michael’s cock was: it was as big as mine.
I’d been expecting a spindly little twiglet but under the school uniform, Michael was a man already.
I gasped in genuine shock, although of course the noise came out of Petra’s mouth. Michael smiled, pleased with my reaction. Little did Michael realise that it was Justine’s fingers tightening around my cock and balls which had expelled the air from my lungs.
The gasp echoed against Woolworth’s big brick wall; not just an echo – there was a secondary resonance from Michael’s mouth as Justine made a girlish grab for his cock. “Have you ever been wanked off?” Justine asked, pulling hard on my cock as she tugged Michael’s foreskin back and forth.
“N-n-no.” My eyes rolled up as Justine turned my cock into a ramrod, driving pleasure deep into my groin. I was so horny that each stroke was an astronaut’s lunar leap towards my orgasm.
The pleasure was crippling.
“Come-on, Petra. You have a stroke.” Suddenly Michael’s cock was there in my hand; my red-painted fingernails in a line along his shaft.
It looked weird.
It looked wrong.
Because it was upside down.
When I gripped my cock, my little finger was closest to the hairy root; when gripping another man’s cock, unexpectedly, my little fingernail was caressing the interface between foreskin and glans.
The cock in my hand was as hard and hot and eager as my own. “A stroke, Petra. Don’t just ‘old it. Jack it off.” The stick of Justine’s admonishment was accompanied by the carrot of her hand moving on my own cock; a demonstration of how good it would be for me if I followed her instructions.
It was always good for me to do what Justine wanted me to do.
“I fink you’ve made it bigger, Pets!” Justine trilled in her teenager-talk. “An’ I reckon you’re goin’ make it spurt.” I grunted as Justine gripped my cock with both hands. “I reckon you shud give it a little suck before it does. ‘Magine how gud it’d feel to ‘av your cock sucked right now.”
I groaned at the double meaning.
Michael groaned as his cock flared with excitement; it was suddenly slippery in my hand. Had he come already?
No.
It was ‘just’ pre-come.
Justine had made me suck her cock… but that was made of plastic and it didn’t leak real juices.
These were real juices; familiar clear fluid with streaks of milky whiteness.
I knew wonderful sensations must have been flooding through Michael’s body to make his cock do that… as my hidden cock was behaving in exactly the same; I could feel the slipperiness of Justine’s wanking hand increasing by the second, in time with my rapidly rising pleasure.
Fuck!
“Petra? Please?” Michael had reached the point of begging.
Begging me to give him pleasure.
An orgy of need and desire consumed me, and as Justine started fussing around… I just let things happen. ‘Things’ like getting on my knees and opening my mouth. “Do it!” Justine shrilled into my ear, her voice a shard of glass driving into my frazzled brain as she reached under my skirt and pulled my cock free of the now-sodden blue knickers – spiking my pleasure right at the moment the leaking purple plum of Michael’s cock entered my mouth.
She didn’t make me come – but it was close enough to make my head spin with ecstasy.
A cock in my mouth.
A straight man with a cock in his mouth.
A hot cock.
A throbbing cock.
A leaking cock.
Having a cock in my mouth should have been appalling: as well as the cock there was the salty, spermy, earthy tang which was making my saliva flow.
It was shocking.
But…
But my mouth, my body was merely an extension of Justine’s will. She was making me do this, and Michael was desperate for me to do it.
I bowed to Justine’s will.
And gave Michael the blowjob he so desperately wanted.
As a reward, Justine wanked my cock with unreserved enthusiasm, using every pleasurable trick she had in her armoury. She whispered words into my ear, promising rich rewards for my lewd behaviour but I didn’t hear specifics; I couldn’t hear anything over the excited chatter of thoughts flashing inside my head.
Homosexual.
Gay.
Poof.
Nancy.
I’d used them all as weapons when I was Michael’s age… and here I was, on my knees with a cock in my mouth.
The penitent man.
Suddenly I wanted Michael’s spunk.
In my mouth.
Down my throat.
In my stomach.
Not as a reward for what I was doing now, but as punishment for what I had done before. I sucked and slurped with the black enthusiasm of a devout sadomasochist.
Desperate to make amends.
Michael didn’t stand a chance. His leaking cock flared as I tongue-kissed the tip and his body shuddered as I was forced to swallow more and more pre-come. The heat of his cock made my body sweat as I forced myself deeper onto its angry, eager length.
I remembered the wax-melting-in-the-ears sensation when a girl had first done that to me.
Was I the first girl to do this to Michael?
My confused body felt combustible.
I imagined him boasting to his disbelieving friends about what had happened. About how a hot schoolgirl had sucked the spunk out of his balls behind Woolworths. I groaned as my orgasm rose to an irresistible crescendo and as my spunk leapt to concrete death. Michael’s spunk leapt into my mouth.
Slippery.
Slimy.
Salt.
This was arousal and punishment-as-pleasure on an entirely new level; at once opening me to an entirely new world and diminishing everything which had gone before.
I wasn’t gay; I knew I wasn’t gay but in ‘Petra’ under Justine’s direction I had the opportunity to make an exception.
“Holy fuck!” Michael exclaimed and before I had chance to protest, he’d used his phone to capture an image of cross-dressed me savouring the sensation of having his spunk sliding down my throat. Grabbing his bag, he scarpered in the way miscreant schoolboys do.
Perhaps he thought we were going to confiscate his phone.
“I hope for his sake that he checks your cock isn’t sticking out before he shows that to anyone.”
“From ‘hero’ to ‘homo’ in less than an instant,” I murmured. For Michael’s sake, I hoped my cock hadn’t been visible… on such fine margins did the boy’s whole future balance. The same fine margins existed for me – I needed to get back to the safety of Justine’s bedroom before a decision could be made about how successful the ‘outing exercise’ had been.
“I can’t take my eyes off you,” Justine gushed. “I’m so proud of you.” Our bodies came together in the weirdest hug ever. I’d seen these hugs before but never thought I’d be part of one – it was like an all-body air kiss to preserve carefully applied make-up; touching and avoiding in equal measures.
It was a girl hug.
And that was because I was, temporarily at least, a girl.
Or a cross-dressing-homosexual-gay-nancy, depending how you looked at it.
Either way, with ‘Juzzy’ at my side, I was happy.
Justine looked across at me sharply. “See?”
My heart had been beating out of my chest from the moment I’d stepped out of the front door dressed as Petra. What had been private had, at that point become very, very public.
Anyone could have seen me.
“But they won’t see you, Peter,” Justine had said with utmost confidence. “They’ll see a schoolgirl in her gym kit.”
“Not if they take a peek under my skirt.” Justine’s blue gym knickers were strained to bursting point by my throbbing erection. For all the fear, there was overwhelming excitement at being outside for the first time in female clothes.
I was literally outing myself as a cross-dresser.
“It is exciting,” Justine said, smiling at herself in a reflection of the porch windows as she re-arranged her boobs within the too-tight-top. Having checked her own boobs, she checked-out my fake chest coconuts.
Black pumps.
Flat.
White socks.
Knee high.
Pleated skirt.
Grey.
Knickers.
Blue.
Cotton jersey.
White.
Bra.
White.
Our uniforms matched completely. The only difference was the cups of my bra were filled with soft-feel silicon inserts, whereas the cups of Justine’s bra were filled with real breasts.
B cups.
Justine had come to appreciate her breasts in a different light; before she’d caught me trying on this very uniform in her bedroom, Justine had felt that her breasts were a little on the small side. It was an informed judgement, given that newspaper articles were reporting that the average bust measurement was 36DD.
Justine had admitted to feeling inadequate right until the moment she had made me squeeze my male chest into her bra. Since that moment, the soft-feel silicon inserts had been exclusively available for my use.
I’d never thought that I’d be wearing them as we walked down the road together.
“How do you feel, Petra?”
“Scared shitless. Excited.”
“I have to admit that for a guy, you make a really cute girl. I’m getting a little aroused watching you myself.”
“Is that what this is about?” I asked.
“Imagine what it’s going to feel like, Petra, when I get you home and push my big fake cock deep into your arse and wank you off into my knickers.”
I did as I was told.
Imagined.
My knees almost buckled at the thought.
“And remember the private slumber party,” Justine continued as we turned onto the high street. “With me and the girls… and you, Petra. Me sharing you with them.” It was something which Justine had brought up again and again: the next time her parents were away, she’d invite all her female friends round and…
It had been a different scenario each time.
Sometimes Justine thought she’d keep my cock under wraps and the fun would be playing the game together, keeping the secret against her friends.
However, most of the time, Justine’s fantasies concentrated on how she would make the big reveal and how her friends would react.
How would Justine’s friends react when they saw Petra’s cock?
Petra’s cock was aching so badly that I wasn’t paying as much attention to my surroundings as I should have been. “That was for us,” Justine said.
“What was?”
“That wolf whistle.”
The wolf whistle.
The calling card of builders everywhere. I’d heard them a thousand times but I’d never paid them much attention. And I’d certainly never been the recipient of one.
But there he was in the bus stop we’d walked past, looking out.
No: he wasn’t looking.
He was leering.
Not at me; but rather at the school-girl version of me.
“Come-on, Petra, let’s go and have some fun,” Justine said, pulling me back the way we’d come.
“Juzzy!”
Justine stopped.
“What did you call me?”
My brain was empty and I had to think about the shape that my mouth had formed. “Juzzy?”
“Since when was I ‘Juzzy’?”
“I… err.” In my head: that’s where the reality of ‘Mistress Justine’ had softened into the teenage fantasy of ‘Juzzy’ – the kind of girl who had ‘normal’ nuzzly sex, rather than pounding, pornographic sex. “Sometimes I like to think about us having a more normal boyfriend/girlfriend type of relationship.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Petra.” ‘Juzzy’ ran that last comment back through her head and smiled. “Or something like that. Now you just keep your mouth shut until I tell you, OK?” I smiled a reply as we made our final approach.
Would I pass for a schoolgirl?
The way the schoolboy swallowed his fear told me that it was a definite possibility: I remembered that fear; here he was suddenly outnumbered and outgunned.
“Wotcha?” Justine said, with an up-flick of her chin. The tone made it sound like an off-hand-generic-greeting as well as an interrogation as to the schoolboy’s intent.
Are you friend or foe?
I felt a pang of common suffering as the testosterone-fuelled Adam’s apple tried to hide in the lad’s throat. My laryngeal prominence was safely hidden behind an upturned collar.
“Listen… I didn’t mean nuffink.”
“So you don’t fink we’s fit?” Justine challenged, sounding as though she was chewing gum.
The Adam’s apple headed South once again. “I didn’t mean -”
“So you do fink we’s fit?” Justine did something subtle with her tits which made the boy’s eyes bulge. “You sixteen, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You better not be shitting me…”
“I ain’t shitting you.”
“Coz me and Petra here was finking about piping some 16-year-old cock, wasn’t we, Pets?” I nodded, too shocked to say anything. “And yoz bein’ 16 an’ all.” The boy fumbled for his wallet and presented his bus pass. “Nice one, Michael.” Justine glanced in my direction. “So… you’s up fer it, or what? Getting piped by Petra?”
That last was surely for my benefit, especially as it was accompanied by a sneaky grab and squeeze of my knicker-clad cock.
Michael looked at me. Surely this would be the moment I was to be exposed?
Unfrocked.
It was all very well playing games in the safety of Justine’s bedroom… I thought…
But I was underestimating the desire of a schoolboy to get his cock sucked by a real girl; since I wasn’t a real girl, I understood that need better than any schoolgirl would have done. The blinding mist of desperation and desire rising uncontrolled from the loins…
If I was Michael, I would have jumped at the chance as well: who knew what was making these girls behave like pimped-up prostitutes? And how long it would last. When I was 16, just talking to girls was amazing. Justine jostling her tits like that would have been enough for a season’s worth of wank fantasies….
Like a lot of schoolboys, to get my cock actually touched by a girl was unthinkable.
Michael looked as though he fell into that category. He didn’t look too closely; didn’t see past the make-up or the scared eyes. “Where?” That was all he wanted to know; where we were going to do the dirty deed.
Where? That was all I wanted to know too.
“Back o’ Woolies,” Justine replied. Woolworths hadn’t been there since 2009 but everyone still called it ‘Woolies’. I could tell Justine was loving it, even though she was careful to show only her poker face.
She’d dressed me, done my make-up and had now passed the schoolboy test. As Justine led me by the hand, Michael followed eagerly. “Told ya!” she said exultantly. She’d put her skills to the test, and passed with flying colours.
The next thing I knew, the three of us were alone in a scrubby area which had served as a delivery yard. The knee-high weeds in the cracks of the concrete told of the lack of through traffic: people didn’t come here any more, let alone vehicles.
It was the perfect place.
“Show us your cock,” Justine said, drawing attention by standing in front of me.
“You show me your tits.” Justine and I looked at each other. The contents of her bra were much more likely to pass as teenage tits than my sweat-softened silicon inserts. Justine gave a casual shrug before hefting up her sports top. “Fuck… in… hell.”
Forget about hell, Michael was sure that he’d caught a ladder all the way up to Heaven. He fumbled at his school trousers, and I kind of forgot why we were here.
And who I was.
I was genuinely shocked at how well-developed Michael’s cock was: it was as big as mine.
I’d been expecting a spindly little twiglet but under the school uniform, Michael was a man already.
I gasped in genuine shock, although of course the noise came out of Petra’s mouth. Michael smiled, pleased with my reaction. Little did Michael realise that it was Justine’s fingers tightening around my cock and balls which had expelled the air from my lungs.
The gasp echoed against Woolworth’s big brick wall; not just an echo – there was a secondary resonance from Michael’s mouth as Justine made a girlish grab for his cock. “Have you ever been wanked off?” Justine asked, pulling hard on my cock as she tugged Michael’s foreskin back and forth.
“N-n-no.” My eyes rolled up as Justine turned my cock into a ramrod, driving pleasure deep into my groin. I was so horny that each stroke was an astronaut’s lunar leap towards my orgasm.
The pleasure was crippling.
“Come-on, Petra. You have a stroke.” Suddenly Michael’s cock was there in my hand; my red-painted fingernails in a line along his shaft.
It looked weird.
It looked wrong.
Because it was upside down.
When I gripped my cock, my little finger was closest to the hairy root; when gripping another man’s cock, unexpectedly, my little fingernail was caressing the interface between foreskin and glans.
The cock in my hand was as hard and hot and eager as my own. “A stroke, Petra. Don’t just ‘old it. Jack it off.” The stick of Justine’s admonishment was accompanied by the carrot of her hand moving on my own cock; a demonstration of how good it would be for me if I followed her instructions.
It was always good for me to do what Justine wanted me to do.
“I fink you’ve made it bigger, Pets!” Justine trilled in her teenager-talk. “An’ I reckon you’re goin’ make it spurt.” I grunted as Justine gripped my cock with both hands. “I reckon you shud give it a little suck before it does. ‘Magine how gud it’d feel to ‘av your cock sucked right now.”
I groaned at the double meaning.
Michael groaned as his cock flared with excitement; it was suddenly slippery in my hand. Had he come already?
No.
It was ‘just’ pre-come.
Justine had made me suck her cock… but that was made of plastic and it didn’t leak real juices.
These were real juices; familiar clear fluid with streaks of milky whiteness.
I knew wonderful sensations must have been flooding through Michael’s body to make his cock do that… as my hidden cock was behaving in exactly the same; I could feel the slipperiness of Justine’s wanking hand increasing by the second, in time with my rapidly rising pleasure.
Fuck!
“Petra? Please?” Michael had reached the point of begging.
Begging me to give him pleasure.
An orgy of need and desire consumed me, and as Justine started fussing around… I just let things happen. ‘Things’ like getting on my knees and opening my mouth. “Do it!” Justine shrilled into my ear, her voice a shard of glass driving into my frazzled brain as she reached under my skirt and pulled my cock free of the now-sodden blue knickers – spiking my pleasure right at the moment the leaking purple plum of Michael’s cock entered my mouth.
She didn’t make me come – but it was close enough to make my head spin with ecstasy.
A cock in my mouth.
A straight man with a cock in his mouth.
A hot cock.
A throbbing cock.
A leaking cock.
Having a cock in my mouth should have been appalling: as well as the cock there was the salty, spermy, earthy tang which was making my saliva flow.
It was shocking.
But…
But my mouth, my body was merely an extension of Justine’s will. She was making me do this, and Michael was desperate for me to do it.
I bowed to Justine’s will.
And gave Michael the blowjob he so desperately wanted.
As a reward, Justine wanked my cock with unreserved enthusiasm, using every pleasurable trick she had in her armoury. She whispered words into my ear, promising rich rewards for my lewd behaviour but I didn’t hear specifics; I couldn’t hear anything over the excited chatter of thoughts flashing inside my head.
Homosexual.
Gay.
Poof.
Nancy.
I’d used them all as weapons when I was Michael’s age… and here I was, on my knees with a cock in my mouth.
The penitent man.
Suddenly I wanted Michael’s spunk.
In my mouth.
Down my throat.
In my stomach.
Not as a reward for what I was doing now, but as punishment for what I had done before. I sucked and slurped with the black enthusiasm of a devout sadomasochist.
Desperate to make amends.
Michael didn’t stand a chance. His leaking cock flared as I tongue-kissed the tip and his body shuddered as I was forced to swallow more and more pre-come. The heat of his cock made my body sweat as I forced myself deeper onto its angry, eager length.
I remembered the wax-melting-in-the-ears sensation when a girl had first done that to me.
Was I the first girl to do this to Michael?
My confused body felt combustible.
I imagined him boasting to his disbelieving friends about what had happened. About how a hot schoolgirl had sucked the spunk out of his balls behind Woolworths. I groaned as my orgasm rose to an irresistible crescendo and as my spunk leapt to concrete death. Michael’s spunk leapt into my mouth.
Slippery.
Slimy.
Salt.
This was arousal and punishment-as-pleasure on an entirely new level; at once opening me to an entirely new world and diminishing everything which had gone before.
I wasn’t gay; I knew I wasn’t gay but in ‘Petra’ under Justine’s direction I had the opportunity to make an exception.
“Holy fuck!” Michael exclaimed and before I had chance to protest, he’d used his phone to capture an image of cross-dressed me savouring the sensation of having his spunk sliding down my throat. Grabbing his bag, he scarpered in the way miscreant schoolboys do.
Perhaps he thought we were going to confiscate his phone.
“I hope for his sake that he checks your cock isn’t sticking out before he shows that to anyone.”
“From ‘hero’ to ‘homo’ in less than an instant,” I murmured. For Michael’s sake, I hoped my cock hadn’t been visible… on such fine margins did the boy’s whole future balance. The same fine margins existed for me – I needed to get back to the safety of Justine’s bedroom before a decision could be made about how successful the ‘outing exercise’ had been.
“I can’t take my eyes off you,” Justine gushed. “I’m so proud of you.” Our bodies came together in the weirdest hug ever. I’d seen these hugs before but never thought I’d be part of one – it was like an all-body air kiss to preserve carefully applied make-up; touching and avoiding in equal measures.
It was a girl hug.
And that was because I was, temporarily at least, a girl.
Or a cross-dressing-homosexual-gay-nancy, depending how you looked at it.
Either way, with ‘Juzzy’ at my side, I was happy.
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