Fucking My Hot Maid Fathima Part 1
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I NEVER EXPECTED TO MARRY HIM! (part 1, 2 And 3) free porn video
PART 1 -self exploration
I should’ve seen the tell tale signs from far away. How he followed me, shared my pics, and liked all my posts. Just like now, in this stage of his big and prosperous career, he didn’t have anything else to do with his fifteen shops. But, like me, he just followed his dick.
We all thought that we had figured out our sexuality in our teens, maybe twins. By the time we were forty, most of us had a girlfriend or where married, and some had babies that now were c***dren stepping into their teens. My friend had a boy and a girl, that now almost finished their high schools. But the last couple of times, his life had changed a lot. He divorced from his wife, because of her greed, she couldn’t help but talk about money, or stay out of d**gs.
The last time I visited them when she still lived there, was pretty cold, very weird, as I had no idea of the goings on; i lived somewhere else that time. We went to see a band and I only got a tiny glimpse of her, she stayed with her own friends while my friend did the same. I got pretty drunk and biked home with my girlfriend. And now that relation is over and I’m back in my own country, we’re sitting in his home, and he’d given me a bunch of good beers, and we’re sitting right next to each other and I do feel his body warmth, and it’s like, he’d given me xtc since I was hot and horny, and i broke; or at least, I understood this as the part in which I can act as being under the influence of hard d**gs, this gave me a good reason to behave different then I normally would, in my kind of reserved way.
‘I love you’, I said with a blush in my face. ‘I’ve always done; I was really jealous at all the girls, for their bodies, their babymaking skills, and their ability to get your love’. He didn’t answer in words, but grabbed me and kissed me on my mouth, and when I didn’t protest, I felt his tongue come in.
My knees weakened, as this was my old dream, and i knew i was actually a transgender, a woman, trapped in a man’s ugly body. And I wasn’t the only one who knew. ‘You’ve never been like other men’ he said -in our teens we were like a boy/girl couple. Doing everything together, scouting, holidays, smoking tobacco and weed, drinking lots of beer. But also more tender things…glimpses of what could be.
To stop my legs from failing me, I went kneeling in front of him; as a reaction, he opened his zipper and took out his cock, thick, veined and about 8 inches, and I opened my mouth, and started to kiss his mighty Penis, put my saliva on it, and put it all in my mouth. It tasted a little salty, and got hard, and I looked into my friends eyes, and saw that I was delighting him. ‘Oh gurl, if i only knew you’d be so good….i’ld never ‘ve married that bitch’. I answered he wouldn’t have k**s, and he admitted that was true and indeed we’d made jokes about a certain movie with a man turned tranny, who wanted to carry babies.
In our conservative environment, if you were a gay boy, it was known pretty soon, and the word spread like wildfire. Best to go to another town or country to avoid the gossip and spam and all other negative effects for your life and career. Luckily, one gay politician who was murdered changed this. Now it wasn’t seen as abnormal anymore, and silly, tasteless jokes weren’t made anymore (like they were in the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and even 90’s).
In the eighties we went on holiday to a popular beach, with a third who openly said, he was a cross dresser. Why would my friend take him to come with us? Officially, because we’d rented a three person apartment, but informally I’m sure he wanted to see my reaction on this man who didn’t crossdress at our vacation.
My friend had had a couple of relationships with girls but never lived together with one; he now was a lot with the other friend, and they shared their bedroom together. At nighttime, I thought I heard some sounds come from that room, but never had the intrusive impulse to lay my ear on their door. I heard them talk and laugh a lot. I was jealous, and jacked off, fantasizing it was me who got fucked in the next door room.
PART 2 -becoming his submissive
And well, yes I do remember a few occasions, in where a girls’ dress was put on my bed or in my cupboard, with the texts ‘you would make a beautiful girl’ and ‘let the woman in you get out’, and a bunch of silly smiles, that at that time I thought were mean and mischievous and wanting to put me down. In reality they saw my fragile build, the way I responded exactly like a woman would in any situation, how I always was clean, neat, tidying up stuff, and how fast my hair grew.
Damn, yes, that was it: by letting my own hair grow like a woman, I had already told my story. The oldest brother had already made remarks in the direction that I was looking good as a woman. With my long legs, small hands and feet, hanging shoulders, hairless smooth body, small penis, big, sensitive nipples with wide aureolas, huge lips, and small nose, I did indeed look like a girl. Women’s clothes fit seamlessly while my body never really fit well in any men’s outfit. Mom already knew this; I grew up in girls’ clothes, until my elder brother was five years old and started to wonder if i was boy or girl. Unfortunately, mom decided to raise another boy, while she’d preferred to have a baby girl. I cried when I heard of her story. We hugged and cried together and that was a beautiful moment in my life.
I had no idea how long we were kissing, but eventually my friend said, ‘wow, that is nice -an old dream’. His openness helped me, to admit, that it also was my dream. Not about money, but friendship and comradery, while also, sexually we attracted each other’s body like magnets. And here we were, in his big bed with the nice pink satin sheets, partly undressed, he opening a drawer and getting some condoms out of there, poppers and lube.
It was clear that he’d had adventures in Gay Land! Now his cock was hard, he was watching mine, and I hadn’t seen him take it out off the drawer but all of a sudden he had a CB6000 in his hand. ‘Babe, i want you to wear this; that is my only demand for our relationship’.
I stopped breathing for a second. So he really was going to make me his girl. My manhood would be imprisoned, maybe for life. ‘Will you let me cum? would you let me out every now in a while?’
The obedience of my questions made him smile and hug me. Gosh he smells nice! And -serendipity- he whispers in my ear how he likes my flowery fragrance and soft body and curves that are also more feminine then manly. His hands go over my back, and lower, probing my buttocks, patting them, like I’m a little baby girl. ‘Of course’ he answers, ‘but you’ll not have your key, I need to control you in that, you won’t regret it for a bit’.
I had no idea. But I loved the way our friendship was developing! I really wanted to be that slutty, soft, hot girl flesh for him to use in any way he wanted. And somehow, the hooker in me saw a future of not having to work, drinking prosecco while wearing ultra feminine, purple pink and orange chiffon and lace dresses and satin gowns and blouses, walking in sex high heels, flirting with the most handsome men at the party, comforting less handsome guys, and serving food and drinks to my top guests. I loved to step into this new adventure, like a girl in her stuffed clothing cupboard.
‘Okay, put it on then, if it makes you happy’. And it did. It ensured that I wouldn’t touch myself, wouldn’t be able to cum by my own hand. That way he had control over me, and he knew it as he had read all of the books about how to control your trans gender partner with a penis cage. I’d seen the books, titles like ‘make him your girl’ and ‘chastity devices and mind control’.
Actually, this aroused me even more. I understood that I wasn’t able to control myself, as I quickly got addicted to almost anything life had to offer, missing the self discipline successful people have. This step was just a logical one in my life, and he and I knew both it was about time, or I would be stupid enough, to kill myself, while all I wanted was to kill the male, and bring my inner female to life.
Males and females are not that different, biologically, as it seems. The biological part is different when it comes to the vagina, womb, egg leaders and hormones. Mentally, women tend to be submissive. But when males take female hormones they develop breasts, their facial features soften, and their muscle volume decreases. No more shaving, a softer voice and more emotional response on everything. I like it. Shaving always bothered me as a time consuming, unnecessary activity. I looked down at my chest, and saw that my nipples were hard, trying to get through my white t-shirt. My friend saw the same and pinched them with both hands; he turned them like he would have done with his ex’s.
And I knew exactly what to do: moan! Like i am his ex. Like a natural woman. I let go of me, closed my eyes and started to breathe heavily. Not overdoing it. It must be as normal, natural, sexy as can be. When he was done fondling my kitties we kissed again, and he fondled my butt again, and felt my butt-crack. Hell, this is a sex machine, a porn addict, someone who will partake in orgies!
Now, he pulls my t-shirt over my head, and he takes off my jeans, and i’m looking at his crotch, the bulge in his boxer, his sexy sixpack, the square head and muscular, straight, trained body, and I’m in love. My entire body is warm, my heart runs, my head blushes, i’m smiling stupidly into the camera’s, that he is setting up around the bed. ‘O, don’t worry it won’t come online’. He uses it for himself…
Now I’m naked, I do feel very vulnerable, and a tiny bit cold, my little penis crawls away, my friend laughs at it. ‘Your clitoris seems afraid’ and he puts it in its cage, the other ring around my balls, and a little padlock connecting both clicks tight. My manhood is imprisoned and we both laugh at that. Like we always were aware of me being a pussy by nature. And I really liked his openness in this, his modernity, and hoped we’d make it until our old days together, as an example of how gay marriage can work out. Like my ex’s son who married a gay man, and they also are happy together, longer then I was with my ex.
It’s like we’re both charged with static electricity, having to wait endlessly for our discharge, which moment now, finally, has come, and we’re aware of it, caressing each micro second with care, not taking each other for granted but greatly respecting each other’s body, but in general, the moment that we first have sex together is undescribable. Like an uncontrolled wild fire, like an explosion of unbridled lust, in which i lick his hole and he slaps my butt with his big, flat hand, until it’s red and I cry, asking him to stop, and he now says, for the first time in our relation ‘call me Daddy’ and I do, I’m like a babygirl, all naked, except for the thin, golden, girly belt that gives extra accent to my waist; now I look at it, I remember him putting it on me, quickly, before he inserted his dick in my ass, after flooding it with ‘super slippery sex juice’. It felt grrrrreat when he started filling me up. He was big; and he kept growing while he was in me.
At that point I realized that in all those years of our friendship together, this moment was in the making. He was older, bigger and richer, always the one who started activities, he had to laugh about me reading my youth away; and when i was ‘baptized’ at the scouts, he joined the other boys who called me a ‘faggot’ ‘wussy’ ‘pussy’ and ‘girlyboy’.
We later talked about that moment, traumatic for me, as I’d seen him as my hero savior who’d betrayed me to be more of a champion in the peer group. Forty years later, his parents have died and mine are at their life’s end. He indeed is a regional champ, while I’m gone and mostly, forgotten. It didn’t matter at all. In certain places in cooler parts of the world then the Netherlands, I’m sort of a hero, so I don’t really care what the calvinists think. It’s a relief for us both to be at this point in life where the opinions of others don’t decide our directions, like our parents have done for a long time. We’re happy that we can have such good sex with each other, something that was completely unimaginable when we were teens, telling jokes about gay activities. That we now partake in with the greatest pleasure! And tell jokes about our past lives, our naivity, about others who changed minds.
He more then me, still, since he’s still the winner in our story, and I’m kind of a loser, having to live with my weener in a cage. But this really did have the effect described in the books. I became the beta, the submissive one, who automatically starts cooking, assumes when he has a need for something, never asking to be relieved, always waiting patiently until he remembers to unlock me, and have me jack off until months of cum have left my system; cum that keeps me locked in, that wants to be controlled, be loved.
PART 3
As I had feared, it hurt. Like hell. He was too big for me, at least, at that moment, but, I didn't want to lose him now so I silently cried and let him go on, in and out, and actually after half an hour of straight fucking, while listening to the sounds of Enya, Coldplay and a number of other gayfriendly artists, my anus -we now call her officially pussy, as I know how to use it like one, like it's a hand, squeezing his dick, which makes him moan in turn, telling me I'm better with my rectum then many girls with their cunt.
TO BE CONTINUED
Do you like my story? Please leave a note for me. It means a lot to me... thank you!!
ps. this story is my personal intellectual property, ask before you copy. I'll be able to locate and try you if you, if you don't. Thx.
I should’ve seen the tell tale signs from far away. How he followed me, shared my pics, and liked all my posts. Just like now, in this stage of his big and prosperous career, he didn’t have anything else to do with his fifteen shops. But, like me, he just followed his dick.
We all thought that we had figured out our sexuality in our teens, maybe twins. By the time we were forty, most of us had a girlfriend or where married, and some had babies that now were c***dren stepping into their teens. My friend had a boy and a girl, that now almost finished their high schools. But the last couple of times, his life had changed a lot. He divorced from his wife, because of her greed, she couldn’t help but talk about money, or stay out of d**gs.
The last time I visited them when she still lived there, was pretty cold, very weird, as I had no idea of the goings on; i lived somewhere else that time. We went to see a band and I only got a tiny glimpse of her, she stayed with her own friends while my friend did the same. I got pretty drunk and biked home with my girlfriend. And now that relation is over and I’m back in my own country, we’re sitting in his home, and he’d given me a bunch of good beers, and we’re sitting right next to each other and I do feel his body warmth, and it’s like, he’d given me xtc since I was hot and horny, and i broke; or at least, I understood this as the part in which I can act as being under the influence of hard d**gs, this gave me a good reason to behave different then I normally would, in my kind of reserved way.
‘I love you’, I said with a blush in my face. ‘I’ve always done; I was really jealous at all the girls, for their bodies, their babymaking skills, and their ability to get your love’. He didn’t answer in words, but grabbed me and kissed me on my mouth, and when I didn’t protest, I felt his tongue come in.
My knees weakened, as this was my old dream, and i knew i was actually a transgender, a woman, trapped in a man’s ugly body. And I wasn’t the only one who knew. ‘You’ve never been like other men’ he said -in our teens we were like a boy/girl couple. Doing everything together, scouting, holidays, smoking tobacco and weed, drinking lots of beer. But also more tender things…glimpses of what could be.
To stop my legs from failing me, I went kneeling in front of him; as a reaction, he opened his zipper and took out his cock, thick, veined and about 8 inches, and I opened my mouth, and started to kiss his mighty Penis, put my saliva on it, and put it all in my mouth. It tasted a little salty, and got hard, and I looked into my friends eyes, and saw that I was delighting him. ‘Oh gurl, if i only knew you’d be so good….i’ld never ‘ve married that bitch’. I answered he wouldn’t have k**s, and he admitted that was true and indeed we’d made jokes about a certain movie with a man turned tranny, who wanted to carry babies.
In our conservative environment, if you were a gay boy, it was known pretty soon, and the word spread like wildfire. Best to go to another town or country to avoid the gossip and spam and all other negative effects for your life and career. Luckily, one gay politician who was murdered changed this. Now it wasn’t seen as abnormal anymore, and silly, tasteless jokes weren’t made anymore (like they were in the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and even 90’s).
In the eighties we went on holiday to a popular beach, with a third who openly said, he was a cross dresser. Why would my friend take him to come with us? Officially, because we’d rented a three person apartment, but informally I’m sure he wanted to see my reaction on this man who didn’t crossdress at our vacation.
My friend had had a couple of relationships with girls but never lived together with one; he now was a lot with the other friend, and they shared their bedroom together. At nighttime, I thought I heard some sounds come from that room, but never had the intrusive impulse to lay my ear on their door. I heard them talk and laugh a lot. I was jealous, and jacked off, fantasizing it was me who got fucked in the next door room.
PART 2 -becoming his submissive
And well, yes I do remember a few occasions, in where a girls’ dress was put on my bed or in my cupboard, with the texts ‘you would make a beautiful girl’ and ‘let the woman in you get out’, and a bunch of silly smiles, that at that time I thought were mean and mischievous and wanting to put me down. In reality they saw my fragile build, the way I responded exactly like a woman would in any situation, how I always was clean, neat, tidying up stuff, and how fast my hair grew.
Damn, yes, that was it: by letting my own hair grow like a woman, I had already told my story. The oldest brother had already made remarks in the direction that I was looking good as a woman. With my long legs, small hands and feet, hanging shoulders, hairless smooth body, small penis, big, sensitive nipples with wide aureolas, huge lips, and small nose, I did indeed look like a girl. Women’s clothes fit seamlessly while my body never really fit well in any men’s outfit. Mom already knew this; I grew up in girls’ clothes, until my elder brother was five years old and started to wonder if i was boy or girl. Unfortunately, mom decided to raise another boy, while she’d preferred to have a baby girl. I cried when I heard of her story. We hugged and cried together and that was a beautiful moment in my life.
I had no idea how long we were kissing, but eventually my friend said, ‘wow, that is nice -an old dream’. His openness helped me, to admit, that it also was my dream. Not about money, but friendship and comradery, while also, sexually we attracted each other’s body like magnets. And here we were, in his big bed with the nice pink satin sheets, partly undressed, he opening a drawer and getting some condoms out of there, poppers and lube.
It was clear that he’d had adventures in Gay Land! Now his cock was hard, he was watching mine, and I hadn’t seen him take it out off the drawer but all of a sudden he had a CB6000 in his hand. ‘Babe, i want you to wear this; that is my only demand for our relationship’.
I stopped breathing for a second. So he really was going to make me his girl. My manhood would be imprisoned, maybe for life. ‘Will you let me cum? would you let me out every now in a while?’
The obedience of my questions made him smile and hug me. Gosh he smells nice! And -serendipity- he whispers in my ear how he likes my flowery fragrance and soft body and curves that are also more feminine then manly. His hands go over my back, and lower, probing my buttocks, patting them, like I’m a little baby girl. ‘Of course’ he answers, ‘but you’ll not have your key, I need to control you in that, you won’t regret it for a bit’.
I had no idea. But I loved the way our friendship was developing! I really wanted to be that slutty, soft, hot girl flesh for him to use in any way he wanted. And somehow, the hooker in me saw a future of not having to work, drinking prosecco while wearing ultra feminine, purple pink and orange chiffon and lace dresses and satin gowns and blouses, walking in sex high heels, flirting with the most handsome men at the party, comforting less handsome guys, and serving food and drinks to my top guests. I loved to step into this new adventure, like a girl in her stuffed clothing cupboard.
‘Okay, put it on then, if it makes you happy’. And it did. It ensured that I wouldn’t touch myself, wouldn’t be able to cum by my own hand. That way he had control over me, and he knew it as he had read all of the books about how to control your trans gender partner with a penis cage. I’d seen the books, titles like ‘make him your girl’ and ‘chastity devices and mind control’.
Actually, this aroused me even more. I understood that I wasn’t able to control myself, as I quickly got addicted to almost anything life had to offer, missing the self discipline successful people have. This step was just a logical one in my life, and he and I knew both it was about time, or I would be stupid enough, to kill myself, while all I wanted was to kill the male, and bring my inner female to life.
Males and females are not that different, biologically, as it seems. The biological part is different when it comes to the vagina, womb, egg leaders and hormones. Mentally, women tend to be submissive. But when males take female hormones they develop breasts, their facial features soften, and their muscle volume decreases. No more shaving, a softer voice and more emotional response on everything. I like it. Shaving always bothered me as a time consuming, unnecessary activity. I looked down at my chest, and saw that my nipples were hard, trying to get through my white t-shirt. My friend saw the same and pinched them with both hands; he turned them like he would have done with his ex’s.
And I knew exactly what to do: moan! Like i am his ex. Like a natural woman. I let go of me, closed my eyes and started to breathe heavily. Not overdoing it. It must be as normal, natural, sexy as can be. When he was done fondling my kitties we kissed again, and he fondled my butt again, and felt my butt-crack. Hell, this is a sex machine, a porn addict, someone who will partake in orgies!
Now, he pulls my t-shirt over my head, and he takes off my jeans, and i’m looking at his crotch, the bulge in his boxer, his sexy sixpack, the square head and muscular, straight, trained body, and I’m in love. My entire body is warm, my heart runs, my head blushes, i’m smiling stupidly into the camera’s, that he is setting up around the bed. ‘O, don’t worry it won’t come online’. He uses it for himself…
Now I’m naked, I do feel very vulnerable, and a tiny bit cold, my little penis crawls away, my friend laughs at it. ‘Your clitoris seems afraid’ and he puts it in its cage, the other ring around my balls, and a little padlock connecting both clicks tight. My manhood is imprisoned and we both laugh at that. Like we always were aware of me being a pussy by nature. And I really liked his openness in this, his modernity, and hoped we’d make it until our old days together, as an example of how gay marriage can work out. Like my ex’s son who married a gay man, and they also are happy together, longer then I was with my ex.
It’s like we’re both charged with static electricity, having to wait endlessly for our discharge, which moment now, finally, has come, and we’re aware of it, caressing each micro second with care, not taking each other for granted but greatly respecting each other’s body, but in general, the moment that we first have sex together is undescribable. Like an uncontrolled wild fire, like an explosion of unbridled lust, in which i lick his hole and he slaps my butt with his big, flat hand, until it’s red and I cry, asking him to stop, and he now says, for the first time in our relation ‘call me Daddy’ and I do, I’m like a babygirl, all naked, except for the thin, golden, girly belt that gives extra accent to my waist; now I look at it, I remember him putting it on me, quickly, before he inserted his dick in my ass, after flooding it with ‘super slippery sex juice’. It felt grrrrreat when he started filling me up. He was big; and he kept growing while he was in me.
At that point I realized that in all those years of our friendship together, this moment was in the making. He was older, bigger and richer, always the one who started activities, he had to laugh about me reading my youth away; and when i was ‘baptized’ at the scouts, he joined the other boys who called me a ‘faggot’ ‘wussy’ ‘pussy’ and ‘girlyboy’.
We later talked about that moment, traumatic for me, as I’d seen him as my hero savior who’d betrayed me to be more of a champion in the peer group. Forty years later, his parents have died and mine are at their life’s end. He indeed is a regional champ, while I’m gone and mostly, forgotten. It didn’t matter at all. In certain places in cooler parts of the world then the Netherlands, I’m sort of a hero, so I don’t really care what the calvinists think. It’s a relief for us both to be at this point in life where the opinions of others don’t decide our directions, like our parents have done for a long time. We’re happy that we can have such good sex with each other, something that was completely unimaginable when we were teens, telling jokes about gay activities. That we now partake in with the greatest pleasure! And tell jokes about our past lives, our naivity, about others who changed minds.
He more then me, still, since he’s still the winner in our story, and I’m kind of a loser, having to live with my weener in a cage. But this really did have the effect described in the books. I became the beta, the submissive one, who automatically starts cooking, assumes when he has a need for something, never asking to be relieved, always waiting patiently until he remembers to unlock me, and have me jack off until months of cum have left my system; cum that keeps me locked in, that wants to be controlled, be loved.
PART 3
As I had feared, it hurt. Like hell. He was too big for me, at least, at that moment, but, I didn't want to lose him now so I silently cried and let him go on, in and out, and actually after half an hour of straight fucking, while listening to the sounds of Enya, Coldplay and a number of other gayfriendly artists, my anus -we now call her officially pussy, as I know how to use it like one, like it's a hand, squeezing his dick, which makes him moan in turn, telling me I'm better with my rectum then many girls with their cunt.
TO BE CONTINUED
Do you like my story? Please leave a note for me. It means a lot to me... thank you!!
ps. this story is my personal intellectual property, ask before you copy. I'll be able to locate and try you if you, if you don't. Thx.
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