THE BUS MAN Sissy faggot romance Chapter 1
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THE BUS MAN (Sissy Faggot Romance) Chapter 3 free porn video
THE BUS MAN
Chapter 3
Weeks passed. I was working crazy hours - even weekends - in the wardrobe department of a large theatre, preparing a production of 'Chicago', so I couldn't go to the club and see how Alice was getting on with Derek. But Tom - who worked more regular hours as an usher - did go, and kept me updated.
Apparently Alice had been sometimes acting as if she wanted rid of Derek, continuing the snide comments about his intelligence (or lack of it), but then getting into a jealous rage if he so much as spoke to anyone else - even Auntie Linda, who must have been nearly sixty-five. (Mind you, that might have not have been so far-fetched. He was, after all, named after Linda Lovelace, the star of 'Deep Throat'. He boasted that when he went down on a boy with his teeth out, he would have him climbing the walls. I can vouch for that, as he got me drunk one night, then lured me into the back of his transit van, tied my hands above my head, and gobbled my dick like a cannibal. It was the wildest cum I ever had, kicking my legs in the air, and howling like a banshee.)
Tom related, with relish, how Derek had finally had enough, and the screaming row he'd had with Alice right on the dance floor, before storming out, swearing never to come back. Alice went hysterical, smashing glasses, and yelling, until Frank the doorman kicked her out.
So that was that. Derek was free, and it could have been my chance: but no one knew where he lived, or worked - except Alice. And who would have dared ask her? I forced myself to forget about it, and threw myself into preparations for the Techie's Christmas Show, which was a collection of sketches and numbers the backstage staff did after the last show of the year was up. Me and Tom were doing 'All That Jazz' as Velma Kelly and Roxy Hart. I sorted out some costumes from stock - slinky black with a Cleopatra wig for me, silver lamé and blonde curls for Tom.
A few days before the show, I bribed Jack, the stage doorman, to let us stay and rehearse onstage after everyone had gone home. There were two huge mirrors behind some café chairs and tables on either side of the proscenium, and we set these areas up as our dressing rooms. I loved stripping naked in front of the darkened auditorium, feeling eight hundred imaginary pairs of eyes on me. And I loved turning myself into a sexy tart - making up with exotic eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, topped off with the severe black wig: putting on black lycra panties, rolling on black nylon stockings, and clipping them to my suspender belt: then the little black dress, with its tight-laced bodice and short, fringed skirt. I finished off with black elbow gloves and patent leather high-heels, and looked at myself in the mirror. My thighs and bum are quite beefy, and the high-sided panties and tight bodice, made my hips look really feminine and voluptuous. Still admiring myself, I called out to Tom, "You ready?"
"Ready when you are, Mrs. De Mille!" he called back, and started the music. We did our high- heeled strut to the centre of the stage to begin - and then I looked at him. Wow! What a transformation! As we danced and mimed to the music, I could hardly keep my eyes off him. He looked the perfect baby-faced blonde, with his puff-ball wig, long false eyelashes and pouting, candy pink lips. His slim body shimmered in a silver halter neck top, which left his shoulders bare, and his back almost down to his butt-crack. His legs, though slender, looked super shapely in white hold-up stockings, and the glimpses of creamy thigh and sweet bubble butt he was showing, as his short skirt swirled around, was making me bulge in my panties.
We ended the number breathing heavily, and not just from effort. I said,
"Fuck! You're gorgeous!"
"And you!" he said, "What a sexy dominatrix!" He turned round, and arched his back, pushing out his bum, and lisped,
"Ooh, Momma! I've been a bad girl. My bottom needs a good spanking!"
"That's not all your bottom needs!" I said, grabbing his hips, and shoving my crotch against his arse. He shrieked, and giggled a bit, until I wrapped my arms around him, and he felt how stiff my cock was, grinding hard against his firm, round buns.
"What's going on?" he said, over his shoulder, "You've never been like this with me before."
"I know! But - well, seeing you like that - so hot! Though why you being a girl should turn me on, I don't know. Maybe I'm going straight!"
"Nah! It's that you're a butch dyke, and I'm your bitch."
"Hm! That's all right then." I smiled, and started nibbling and biting his neck. Then suddenly I remembered - fuck! - there was something I hadn't told him ...
When I say I bribed Jack to let us rehearse, his price had been to watch us. I must say I thought it was louche, a straight guy wanting to see two gay boys dancing about in drag. But then Jack was louche. Fifty, a little under six foot and lean as a greyhound, with a mane of greying hair like an aging rock star, he gave the impression that he had done (and probably still did) a lot of sex, booze and d**gs. Guys like him are always pansexual, I thought. Surely he couldn't be offended?
Anyway - as I tongued Tom's ear, I whispered the information. He didn't miss a beat, but whispered back, "Well then - since we've got a public ..." Then he turned, and took hold of the zip at the front of my dress, "... let's give 'em a show!" He sank slowly to his knees, pulling the zip with him, then shucked the dress off me. He started kissing and nibbling my bulging packet, while his hands roved up and down my stockinged legs. After a while he pulled down the front of my panties, and, in one gulp, swallowed me to the root! His tongue and throat deliciously worked my dick, then he gagged a little, and pulled back. I looked down. What a sight! Those big long-lashed doe eyes looking up at me and those shiny pink lips wrapped around my rigid shaft, shiny with saliva. I put my hands behind my head, and started gyrating my hips like a stripper, humping Tom's greedy mouth. Suddenly, I got the urge to talk dirty. I don't usually do that - but after all, we were putting on a sex show! So I started growling things like, "Mmmm, yeah! Eat my meat, bitch ... that's it, cumslut! Choke on my big dick (well, seven inches - but who's counting?) ... I'm gonna shoot my load down your cocksuckin throat ..." etc. You get the idea. Funny thing, though - it worked. Tom was really started going to town on my tackle - I hadn't had a blowjob that intense since Auntie Linda scoffed me off - and I was totally losing control. I grabbed Tom's head, and started face- fucking him, slow but deep. The loud gurgling, slurping, moaning noises he made were driving me wild, and I could feel my orgasm building, building, waiting to explode. I hovered on the brink of ecstasy for what seemed like ages, then the wave broke. I threw back my head, and the kind of primal yell New Agers spend a fortune trying to develop, erupted from my belly and just went on and on, making the theatre roof ring. Great waves of pleasure jolted along my cock with each surge of spunk Tom guzzled. Then his head too jerked back, his mouth, trailing strings of cum and spit, shouting out his orgasm, as he tossed himself off. At last the ecstasy subsided, and, trembling, I sank to my knees facing him. We just looked at each other for a moment.
"Wow!" I breathed
"Wow!" agreed Tom. There was a gob of cum about to drip off his chin, so I darted out my tongue, and licked it off. Then I licked all his face, like a mother cat washing her kitten, and Tom started purring, which made us both giggle. We kissed - long, wet, French - reaching behind, cupping and groping each other's bums. Lovely! Suddenly a series of piercing whistles and loud cheers broke the mood, and reminded us Jack was there. We got up, smiling, pulling our panties back into place, and I fetched a towel from my bag to clean up with. Jack was walking his bandy cowboy walk down the aisle towards us, packing himself back into his faded Levi's, saying, "Fuckin ace, girls! Haven't seen anything that rumptious since I was in Bangkok!" He clearly hadn't been offended. Seeing me putting on my tee-shirt, he said, "Aw! You're not going, are you? I got a bottle of Blackbush in the green room." He was buckling his belt as he spoke, and the stance - belly crunched, hips pushed forward - made the long, fat sausage shape down his left leg very prominent.
"Sorry, Jack," I said, "I'm going home. How about you, Shirl?" But Tom didn't answer. He was hypnotised, his owl-eyed, tongue-hanging look fixed on the denim bulge. I turned back to Jack, and said "I think he might be interested."
Later, I looked into the green room on the way out. Jack was sat in the middle of the sofa, head back, while Tom knelt between his wide-spread denim-clad thighs, in nothing but his white stockings, silver high heels and blonde wig. The wig was nodding up and down on Jack's crotch.
"Hey Jack," I said, "can I have the keys?" He turned half-opened eyes dreamily towards me.
"Sure babe." He said, unclipping them from his belt, and throwing them to me, then added, "You really gotta go? I could give that lovely fat bum of yours a rogering it'd never forget!" I smiled.
"It's all right, Jack - thanks anyway. See you Shirl." Tom did a Sally Bowles finger-wiggle over his shoulder, and said,
"Mmmf glblrgl schlrp!"
I locked the stage door behind me, and posted the keys through the letterbox. Well, (I thought) I was right - Jack is into boys too. But then why on earth did I refuse the chance to cop that huge hard dick? I was already beginning to regret it.
manmare
Chapter 3
Weeks passed. I was working crazy hours - even weekends - in the wardrobe department of a large theatre, preparing a production of 'Chicago', so I couldn't go to the club and see how Alice was getting on with Derek. But Tom - who worked more regular hours as an usher - did go, and kept me updated.
Apparently Alice had been sometimes acting as if she wanted rid of Derek, continuing the snide comments about his intelligence (or lack of it), but then getting into a jealous rage if he so much as spoke to anyone else - even Auntie Linda, who must have been nearly sixty-five. (Mind you, that might have not have been so far-fetched. He was, after all, named after Linda Lovelace, the star of 'Deep Throat'. He boasted that when he went down on a boy with his teeth out, he would have him climbing the walls. I can vouch for that, as he got me drunk one night, then lured me into the back of his transit van, tied my hands above my head, and gobbled my dick like a cannibal. It was the wildest cum I ever had, kicking my legs in the air, and howling like a banshee.)
Tom related, with relish, how Derek had finally had enough, and the screaming row he'd had with Alice right on the dance floor, before storming out, swearing never to come back. Alice went hysterical, smashing glasses, and yelling, until Frank the doorman kicked her out.
So that was that. Derek was free, and it could have been my chance: but no one knew where he lived, or worked - except Alice. And who would have dared ask her? I forced myself to forget about it, and threw myself into preparations for the Techie's Christmas Show, which was a collection of sketches and numbers the backstage staff did after the last show of the year was up. Me and Tom were doing 'All That Jazz' as Velma Kelly and Roxy Hart. I sorted out some costumes from stock - slinky black with a Cleopatra wig for me, silver lamé and blonde curls for Tom.
A few days before the show, I bribed Jack, the stage doorman, to let us stay and rehearse onstage after everyone had gone home. There were two huge mirrors behind some café chairs and tables on either side of the proscenium, and we set these areas up as our dressing rooms. I loved stripping naked in front of the darkened auditorium, feeling eight hundred imaginary pairs of eyes on me. And I loved turning myself into a sexy tart - making up with exotic eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, topped off with the severe black wig: putting on black lycra panties, rolling on black nylon stockings, and clipping them to my suspender belt: then the little black dress, with its tight-laced bodice and short, fringed skirt. I finished off with black elbow gloves and patent leather high-heels, and looked at myself in the mirror. My thighs and bum are quite beefy, and the high-sided panties and tight bodice, made my hips look really feminine and voluptuous. Still admiring myself, I called out to Tom, "You ready?"
"Ready when you are, Mrs. De Mille!" he called back, and started the music. We did our high- heeled strut to the centre of the stage to begin - and then I looked at him. Wow! What a transformation! As we danced and mimed to the music, I could hardly keep my eyes off him. He looked the perfect baby-faced blonde, with his puff-ball wig, long false eyelashes and pouting, candy pink lips. His slim body shimmered in a silver halter neck top, which left his shoulders bare, and his back almost down to his butt-crack. His legs, though slender, looked super shapely in white hold-up stockings, and the glimpses of creamy thigh and sweet bubble butt he was showing, as his short skirt swirled around, was making me bulge in my panties.
We ended the number breathing heavily, and not just from effort. I said,
"Fuck! You're gorgeous!"
"And you!" he said, "What a sexy dominatrix!" He turned round, and arched his back, pushing out his bum, and lisped,
"Ooh, Momma! I've been a bad girl. My bottom needs a good spanking!"
"That's not all your bottom needs!" I said, grabbing his hips, and shoving my crotch against his arse. He shrieked, and giggled a bit, until I wrapped my arms around him, and he felt how stiff my cock was, grinding hard against his firm, round buns.
"What's going on?" he said, over his shoulder, "You've never been like this with me before."
"I know! But - well, seeing you like that - so hot! Though why you being a girl should turn me on, I don't know. Maybe I'm going straight!"
"Nah! It's that you're a butch dyke, and I'm your bitch."
"Hm! That's all right then." I smiled, and started nibbling and biting his neck. Then suddenly I remembered - fuck! - there was something I hadn't told him ...
When I say I bribed Jack to let us rehearse, his price had been to watch us. I must say I thought it was louche, a straight guy wanting to see two gay boys dancing about in drag. But then Jack was louche. Fifty, a little under six foot and lean as a greyhound, with a mane of greying hair like an aging rock star, he gave the impression that he had done (and probably still did) a lot of sex, booze and d**gs. Guys like him are always pansexual, I thought. Surely he couldn't be offended?
Anyway - as I tongued Tom's ear, I whispered the information. He didn't miss a beat, but whispered back, "Well then - since we've got a public ..." Then he turned, and took hold of the zip at the front of my dress, "... let's give 'em a show!" He sank slowly to his knees, pulling the zip with him, then shucked the dress off me. He started kissing and nibbling my bulging packet, while his hands roved up and down my stockinged legs. After a while he pulled down the front of my panties, and, in one gulp, swallowed me to the root! His tongue and throat deliciously worked my dick, then he gagged a little, and pulled back. I looked down. What a sight! Those big long-lashed doe eyes looking up at me and those shiny pink lips wrapped around my rigid shaft, shiny with saliva. I put my hands behind my head, and started gyrating my hips like a stripper, humping Tom's greedy mouth. Suddenly, I got the urge to talk dirty. I don't usually do that - but after all, we were putting on a sex show! So I started growling things like, "Mmmm, yeah! Eat my meat, bitch ... that's it, cumslut! Choke on my big dick (well, seven inches - but who's counting?) ... I'm gonna shoot my load down your cocksuckin throat ..." etc. You get the idea. Funny thing, though - it worked. Tom was really started going to town on my tackle - I hadn't had a blowjob that intense since Auntie Linda scoffed me off - and I was totally losing control. I grabbed Tom's head, and started face- fucking him, slow but deep. The loud gurgling, slurping, moaning noises he made were driving me wild, and I could feel my orgasm building, building, waiting to explode. I hovered on the brink of ecstasy for what seemed like ages, then the wave broke. I threw back my head, and the kind of primal yell New Agers spend a fortune trying to develop, erupted from my belly and just went on and on, making the theatre roof ring. Great waves of pleasure jolted along my cock with each surge of spunk Tom guzzled. Then his head too jerked back, his mouth, trailing strings of cum and spit, shouting out his orgasm, as he tossed himself off. At last the ecstasy subsided, and, trembling, I sank to my knees facing him. We just looked at each other for a moment.
"Wow!" I breathed
"Wow!" agreed Tom. There was a gob of cum about to drip off his chin, so I darted out my tongue, and licked it off. Then I licked all his face, like a mother cat washing her kitten, and Tom started purring, which made us both giggle. We kissed - long, wet, French - reaching behind, cupping and groping each other's bums. Lovely! Suddenly a series of piercing whistles and loud cheers broke the mood, and reminded us Jack was there. We got up, smiling, pulling our panties back into place, and I fetched a towel from my bag to clean up with. Jack was walking his bandy cowboy walk down the aisle towards us, packing himself back into his faded Levi's, saying, "Fuckin ace, girls! Haven't seen anything that rumptious since I was in Bangkok!" He clearly hadn't been offended. Seeing me putting on my tee-shirt, he said, "Aw! You're not going, are you? I got a bottle of Blackbush in the green room." He was buckling his belt as he spoke, and the stance - belly crunched, hips pushed forward - made the long, fat sausage shape down his left leg very prominent.
"Sorry, Jack," I said, "I'm going home. How about you, Shirl?" But Tom didn't answer. He was hypnotised, his owl-eyed, tongue-hanging look fixed on the denim bulge. I turned back to Jack, and said "I think he might be interested."
Later, I looked into the green room on the way out. Jack was sat in the middle of the sofa, head back, while Tom knelt between his wide-spread denim-clad thighs, in nothing but his white stockings, silver high heels and blonde wig. The wig was nodding up and down on Jack's crotch.
"Hey Jack," I said, "can I have the keys?" He turned half-opened eyes dreamily towards me.
"Sure babe." He said, unclipping them from his belt, and throwing them to me, then added, "You really gotta go? I could give that lovely fat bum of yours a rogering it'd never forget!" I smiled.
"It's all right, Jack - thanks anyway. See you Shirl." Tom did a Sally Bowles finger-wiggle over his shoulder, and said,
"Mmmf glblrgl schlrp!"
I locked the stage door behind me, and posted the keys through the letterbox. Well, (I thought) I was right - Jack is into boys too. But then why on earth did I refuse the chance to cop that huge hard dick? I was already beginning to regret it.
manmare
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