Tango at the Vingt Deux
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Away From The Campfire, Part Deux free porn video
I never for a second believed he was actually going to show up next Saturday. But, it hardly mattered. That quick, trashy blowjob I'd given at the camp had awakened something in me: lust. I'd long repressed my bisexual tendencies, and buried my femme side. And now they were awake.
When I got back home from the cabin, Sunday, I dug out my old friend, Dildo Daggins, and went to work on my ass. I came three times that night.
It was hard to concentrate, and to sit, at work Monday, but I managed. That evening, I got my boxes of girly clothes and supplies out of storage, and went through trying to determine what still fit, and what didn't. I also fucked myself twice with Dildo.
Tuesday, I stopped off at a store, and bought fresh makeup, since mine had dried up in the three years since it was last used. I also bought new dipillatory crème and razors. Dildo got another good workout that night.
By Wednesday, I was in a lather. I'd been fantasizing about Charlie coming over, and while I didn't think he would, I wanted him. I started thinking about ways to entice him. I gave my poor asshole a rest that night.
Thursday, I texted Charlie. "About this wknd. If you want 2 back out, that's OK. Im going 2 get dressed up anyway. Come over if U want. No strings attached." I spent the evening trying not to cum all over my lingerie.
Friday, still no response from him, and I resigned myself to the fact that I'd be alone for the weekend, painting my face, trying on clothes, taking pictures, and fucking myself silly. And that, to tell the truth, didn't sound half bad. That evening, I got rid off all my body hair. All of it. Feet, legs, arms, underarms, chest, back, pubes, balls, even around my asshole. Then, I baby oiled myself, to make everything soft. It was quite the sensual experience. Dildo only got one use, but it lasted an hour, and I learned I could give myself orgasms without cumming.
Saturday, I slept in. When I did get up, I cleaned the apartment, and went for a short jog. Around 3, I shaved closely, and started painting. First, a little concealer around the eyes, and along the jaw. Then came foundation. Next was eye shadow, followed by false eyelashes and eyeliner. Some blush on the cheekbones, and I paused to admire my handiwork. It was amazing that after all this time, I still knew how to apply everything.
The next stage was clothing. My corset still fit, and I pulled it as tight as I could stand. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be compressed, like a never ending hug. My favorite spandex-based panties were next, and while I didn't need to tuck just yet, I did anyway. With some medical tape, I pushed my pectoral fat together and created the illusion of tits. A little powder in the valley emphasized the illusion. My bra came next, and a short, tight black skirt. A blouse with a plunging neckline, and black pumps. I was working on my hair when my phone beeped. It was a text from Charlie.
"Wat time?"
Shit. He was going to come! I tried not to get my hopes up, as he was probably weirded out by the whole thing. Last weekend was probably a fluke. A drunken experiment, and his guilt for abandoning a friend just slightly outweighed his guilt for letting said friend suck his dick. If he wasn't coming over for sex, I had figured, he probably wanted to talk. And I was okay with that, as long as he didn't up the entire evening. I had photos to shoot, and masterbating to do.
It was 5 o'clock now. "How about 6?"
"K".
The game was afoot. I finished doing my hair, put on some long, dangling earrings, a dainty ring, spritzed a wee bit of perfume on my wrists, on the back of my neck, and up my skirt, and stepped into the bathroom for the final touch: lipstick. I chose a dark maroon shade, because it complimented my top, and made my lips look fuller. At least, I thought it did.
I realized I'd forgotten to paint my toenails, and I didn't have press-on nails for my hands, but, those were details only I'd notice, I figured. Looking in the full length mirror, I was pleased with the overall look. I made a pretty good girl, as girls went. Still kind of looked like a guy, to paraphrase Suzanne Vega. The time was 5:30, and I had time to kill. Put on some soft jazz, poured a glass of wine, and took a few pictures.
By 6:15, I realized he was late. I was considering changing outfits and taking more pictures, but figured as soon as I got half dressed, he'd show up.
6:30. Nothing. I poured my second glass of wine and smiled at the lipstick smudge on the glass.
6:45. No Charlie. He'd bailed. I'd give him until 7, and then go back to my original plan of self-indulging photos, and self-abuse.
6:55. A knock at the door, and here's Charlie, all apologetic because he'd forgotten where I lived and had to stop for beer. He was obviously nervous because he was talking a mile a minute, and wasn't looking directly at me. I let him ramble on about his day as he cracked open a beer, and nearly chugged it. I left another on the coffee table, and put the other four cans in the fridge, before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.
While he rambled, I noticed he started to look at my legs. I'm proud of them. They're shapely, and probably my most feminine feature. His eyes eventually crawled up my legs to the rest of my body, and finally met my own eyes.
"You look pretty good."
"Thanks!"
We talked for a good long time, he asked all the standard questions, how long had I dressed, why, did I go out, et cetera, et cetera.
After his fourth beer, and halfway through my third glass of wine, we were both relaxed and comfortable with the situation. And I decided to pounce.
"So. Would you like another blow job? No strings attached."
He took a deep breath, and nodded.
I shifted the coffee table out of the way, and moved to the floor before him. As I knelt between his feet, untying his shoelaces, I looked him square in the eye, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. If you feel uncomfortable, say so, and we'll stop. Okay?"
He nodded as I took his shoes off. I slid my hands up his jeans, on the inside of his thighs, never taking my eyes away from his. I brushed against his bulge as I reached for his belt. He was hard. He was into it. For now.
Personally, I wanted a lot more than just his dick on my tongue, but I wasn't going to push it. And all desires fell away as I saw his cock again. Sucking it should be enough. For now. It was better looking in the light. A big, bulbous head, long thin shaft, with veins visible beneath the pink skin. His pubic hair wasn't groomed, but it wasn't very long either. The whole package was gorgeous, and I prayed he'd last longer than last weekend.
I motioned him to stand, so I could remove his jeans and underwear, and with those out of the way, I could get to work, this labor of love, sucking his cock. I kissed the base first, and worked my way back to the head. His whole area smelled better than last weekend, and I liked it. And it was entirely possible that he was harder than last weekend too.
After a couple of minutes of kissing and sucking, I looked up at him. He was transfixed by the view. I remembered I wanted more than just head, and I remembered how quickly he cam last time, so I backed off.
"I want you to fuck me, Charlie. Will you fuck me? Please?"
He nodded.
Dildo was going to be jealous, but so what? It was an inanimate object. I was about to have the first live dick inside me in years. I pulled a condom out from it's hiding place under a magazine, and rolled it on him. Then I hiked my skirt up, got on all fours, and reached back to pull my panties to the side. "Fuck me, Charlie. I want you inside me."
He didn't hesitate this time. He got behind me, and put the head of his dick at my asshole. Because I'd been "practicing" all week, I was kind of loose, and with one push, Charlie filled me up.
"Fuck. You're so tight," he groaned. If he only knew.
He pumped his hips, and I rocked back to meet him, as his tool pistoned deep inside me. And it was so good. My dildo was good, but a live, warm, blood-filled cock attached to a man was so much better.
We fucked for a few minutes, steadily picking up the pace, and I was almost lost in the ecstacy when I remembered something else I wanted.
"Charlie, don't cum in me," I breathed. I turned my head as much as I could. I wanted to kiss him over my shoulder, but he was upright, and out of reach. "Don't cum in me, Charlie, I want you to cum on my face again."
To be honest, that was probably the wrong thing to say, because he grunted, gave three more quick thrusts, and froze. He'd just shot his load.
Sigh.
We both held still for a while, catching our breath, before he pulled his now limp dick out of my butt, grabbed his jeans, and ran to the bathroom. I rolled over onto my back, my legs spread, mostly satisfied, but still wanting more.
When Charlie finally came out of the bathroom, he was dressed, and looking nervous again. "Uh, thanks," he said, as he opened the door.
"No, Charlie. Thank YOU," I smiled.
EPILOGUE:
I sent him a text on Sunday, saying essentially, anytime he wanted to do that again, I'd be up for it. No strings attached.
He came back the next Saturday night, and we fucked again. Just like the first time. And he left again. Just like the first time.
The third week, he came, and we fucked longer. And this time, I got my kiss over the shoulder as he fucked me doggy style. And this time, I got my facefull of cum.
Week four: We made out on the couch before I went down on him. I liked kissing. And this time, when he fucked me, it was missionary position, and I learned that Dildo wasn't the only one who could make me orgasm.
Week five: He came over Friday night, instead of Saturday. And after we made out, he went down on me before he fucked me. (We both agreed that neither he, nor I, were all that into him sucking my dick, but we didn't hate it either.) He spent the night, and we fucked again in the morning, despite my looking a mess.
Week six: He was busy with a family obligation, and couldn't come over. And I missed him. But, no strings attached.
Charlie did come over the following Tuesday, and while I wasn't dressed up, he accepted a blow job from me, and gave me one in return, before we morphed into a 69. He spent the night again, but there was no fucking.
Week seven: Friday night, we sat on the couch, and watched a movie before going to bed. No sex that night, but we made up for it Saturday morning. And afternoon. And evening. And most of Sunday. It was about then we stopped using condoms, and I realized I liked the feeling of his cum in my ass more than I liked it on my face.
Halfway through our third month, we had a fight. I don't remember what it was about, but we didn't speak for two weeks, until he apologized and came back. The make-up sex was amazing.
After that, we didn't limit seeing each other to the weekends. (Although that was the only time I could really make myself pretty for him.) We spent some nights at his place, and some at mine. And not every night was sexual. That would be impossible.
On his urging, I started growing my hair longer. And I got my ears pierced. And I went to his family's home for Christmas, although we didn't define the nature of our relationship to them. (I think his grandmother suspected.)
In January, we drove to Alabama, to escape the cold weather, spending a week along the Gulf Coast. And I lived that week as if I had been born female. And it was a wonderful seven days, and tough to end.
As you can tell, our "no strings attached" rule had turned into quite the opposite. He used the L word first, and I returned it. For his birthday, I got a tattoo. Yes. I got the tattoo. At the base of my spine. I got a tramp stamp for him. There was no turning back now.
We made plans to move in together, and we came out to our friends, which went well, and to our families, which didn't. I found a place that could do laser hair removal, and got rid of my facial hair, and my chest hair. There were repercussions at work, and I got called a faggot and threatened more than a few times, but after talking to HR, things calmed down.
Now, we're back at the cabin, our annual trip with friends, only this time, Charlie and I have a room to ourselves. And I'm wearing a bikini, because I've been on hormones for about two months. And I suspect that, as we celebrate the one year anniversary of it all starting, Charlie is going to propose.
When I got back home from the cabin, Sunday, I dug out my old friend, Dildo Daggins, and went to work on my ass. I came three times that night.
It was hard to concentrate, and to sit, at work Monday, but I managed. That evening, I got my boxes of girly clothes and supplies out of storage, and went through trying to determine what still fit, and what didn't. I also fucked myself twice with Dildo.
Tuesday, I stopped off at a store, and bought fresh makeup, since mine had dried up in the three years since it was last used. I also bought new dipillatory crème and razors. Dildo got another good workout that night.
By Wednesday, I was in a lather. I'd been fantasizing about Charlie coming over, and while I didn't think he would, I wanted him. I started thinking about ways to entice him. I gave my poor asshole a rest that night.
Thursday, I texted Charlie. "About this wknd. If you want 2 back out, that's OK. Im going 2 get dressed up anyway. Come over if U want. No strings attached." I spent the evening trying not to cum all over my lingerie.
Friday, still no response from him, and I resigned myself to the fact that I'd be alone for the weekend, painting my face, trying on clothes, taking pictures, and fucking myself silly. And that, to tell the truth, didn't sound half bad. That evening, I got rid off all my body hair. All of it. Feet, legs, arms, underarms, chest, back, pubes, balls, even around my asshole. Then, I baby oiled myself, to make everything soft. It was quite the sensual experience. Dildo only got one use, but it lasted an hour, and I learned I could give myself orgasms without cumming.
Saturday, I slept in. When I did get up, I cleaned the apartment, and went for a short jog. Around 3, I shaved closely, and started painting. First, a little concealer around the eyes, and along the jaw. Then came foundation. Next was eye shadow, followed by false eyelashes and eyeliner. Some blush on the cheekbones, and I paused to admire my handiwork. It was amazing that after all this time, I still knew how to apply everything.
The next stage was clothing. My corset still fit, and I pulled it as tight as I could stand. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be compressed, like a never ending hug. My favorite spandex-based panties were next, and while I didn't need to tuck just yet, I did anyway. With some medical tape, I pushed my pectoral fat together and created the illusion of tits. A little powder in the valley emphasized the illusion. My bra came next, and a short, tight black skirt. A blouse with a plunging neckline, and black pumps. I was working on my hair when my phone beeped. It was a text from Charlie.
"Wat time?"
Shit. He was going to come! I tried not to get my hopes up, as he was probably weirded out by the whole thing. Last weekend was probably a fluke. A drunken experiment, and his guilt for abandoning a friend just slightly outweighed his guilt for letting said friend suck his dick. If he wasn't coming over for sex, I had figured, he probably wanted to talk. And I was okay with that, as long as he didn't up the entire evening. I had photos to shoot, and masterbating to do.
It was 5 o'clock now. "How about 6?"
"K".
The game was afoot. I finished doing my hair, put on some long, dangling earrings, a dainty ring, spritzed a wee bit of perfume on my wrists, on the back of my neck, and up my skirt, and stepped into the bathroom for the final touch: lipstick. I chose a dark maroon shade, because it complimented my top, and made my lips look fuller. At least, I thought it did.
I realized I'd forgotten to paint my toenails, and I didn't have press-on nails for my hands, but, those were details only I'd notice, I figured. Looking in the full length mirror, I was pleased with the overall look. I made a pretty good girl, as girls went. Still kind of looked like a guy, to paraphrase Suzanne Vega. The time was 5:30, and I had time to kill. Put on some soft jazz, poured a glass of wine, and took a few pictures.
By 6:15, I realized he was late. I was considering changing outfits and taking more pictures, but figured as soon as I got half dressed, he'd show up.
6:30. Nothing. I poured my second glass of wine and smiled at the lipstick smudge on the glass.
6:45. No Charlie. He'd bailed. I'd give him until 7, and then go back to my original plan of self-indulging photos, and self-abuse.
6:55. A knock at the door, and here's Charlie, all apologetic because he'd forgotten where I lived and had to stop for beer. He was obviously nervous because he was talking a mile a minute, and wasn't looking directly at me. I let him ramble on about his day as he cracked open a beer, and nearly chugged it. I left another on the coffee table, and put the other four cans in the fridge, before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.
While he rambled, I noticed he started to look at my legs. I'm proud of them. They're shapely, and probably my most feminine feature. His eyes eventually crawled up my legs to the rest of my body, and finally met my own eyes.
"You look pretty good."
"Thanks!"
We talked for a good long time, he asked all the standard questions, how long had I dressed, why, did I go out, et cetera, et cetera.
After his fourth beer, and halfway through my third glass of wine, we were both relaxed and comfortable with the situation. And I decided to pounce.
"So. Would you like another blow job? No strings attached."
He took a deep breath, and nodded.
I shifted the coffee table out of the way, and moved to the floor before him. As I knelt between his feet, untying his shoelaces, I looked him square in the eye, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. If you feel uncomfortable, say so, and we'll stop. Okay?"
He nodded as I took his shoes off. I slid my hands up his jeans, on the inside of his thighs, never taking my eyes away from his. I brushed against his bulge as I reached for his belt. He was hard. He was into it. For now.
Personally, I wanted a lot more than just his dick on my tongue, but I wasn't going to push it. And all desires fell away as I saw his cock again. Sucking it should be enough. For now. It was better looking in the light. A big, bulbous head, long thin shaft, with veins visible beneath the pink skin. His pubic hair wasn't groomed, but it wasn't very long either. The whole package was gorgeous, and I prayed he'd last longer than last weekend.
I motioned him to stand, so I could remove his jeans and underwear, and with those out of the way, I could get to work, this labor of love, sucking his cock. I kissed the base first, and worked my way back to the head. His whole area smelled better than last weekend, and I liked it. And it was entirely possible that he was harder than last weekend too.
After a couple of minutes of kissing and sucking, I looked up at him. He was transfixed by the view. I remembered I wanted more than just head, and I remembered how quickly he cam last time, so I backed off.
"I want you to fuck me, Charlie. Will you fuck me? Please?"
He nodded.
Dildo was going to be jealous, but so what? It was an inanimate object. I was about to have the first live dick inside me in years. I pulled a condom out from it's hiding place under a magazine, and rolled it on him. Then I hiked my skirt up, got on all fours, and reached back to pull my panties to the side. "Fuck me, Charlie. I want you inside me."
He didn't hesitate this time. He got behind me, and put the head of his dick at my asshole. Because I'd been "practicing" all week, I was kind of loose, and with one push, Charlie filled me up.
"Fuck. You're so tight," he groaned. If he only knew.
He pumped his hips, and I rocked back to meet him, as his tool pistoned deep inside me. And it was so good. My dildo was good, but a live, warm, blood-filled cock attached to a man was so much better.
We fucked for a few minutes, steadily picking up the pace, and I was almost lost in the ecstacy when I remembered something else I wanted.
"Charlie, don't cum in me," I breathed. I turned my head as much as I could. I wanted to kiss him over my shoulder, but he was upright, and out of reach. "Don't cum in me, Charlie, I want you to cum on my face again."
To be honest, that was probably the wrong thing to say, because he grunted, gave three more quick thrusts, and froze. He'd just shot his load.
Sigh.
We both held still for a while, catching our breath, before he pulled his now limp dick out of my butt, grabbed his jeans, and ran to the bathroom. I rolled over onto my back, my legs spread, mostly satisfied, but still wanting more.
When Charlie finally came out of the bathroom, he was dressed, and looking nervous again. "Uh, thanks," he said, as he opened the door.
"No, Charlie. Thank YOU," I smiled.
EPILOGUE:
I sent him a text on Sunday, saying essentially, anytime he wanted to do that again, I'd be up for it. No strings attached.
He came back the next Saturday night, and we fucked again. Just like the first time. And he left again. Just like the first time.
The third week, he came, and we fucked longer. And this time, I got my kiss over the shoulder as he fucked me doggy style. And this time, I got my facefull of cum.
Week four: We made out on the couch before I went down on him. I liked kissing. And this time, when he fucked me, it was missionary position, and I learned that Dildo wasn't the only one who could make me orgasm.
Week five: He came over Friday night, instead of Saturday. And after we made out, he went down on me before he fucked me. (We both agreed that neither he, nor I, were all that into him sucking my dick, but we didn't hate it either.) He spent the night, and we fucked again in the morning, despite my looking a mess.
Week six: He was busy with a family obligation, and couldn't come over. And I missed him. But, no strings attached.
Charlie did come over the following Tuesday, and while I wasn't dressed up, he accepted a blow job from me, and gave me one in return, before we morphed into a 69. He spent the night again, but there was no fucking.
Week seven: Friday night, we sat on the couch, and watched a movie before going to bed. No sex that night, but we made up for it Saturday morning. And afternoon. And evening. And most of Sunday. It was about then we stopped using condoms, and I realized I liked the feeling of his cum in my ass more than I liked it on my face.
Halfway through our third month, we had a fight. I don't remember what it was about, but we didn't speak for two weeks, until he apologized and came back. The make-up sex was amazing.
After that, we didn't limit seeing each other to the weekends. (Although that was the only time I could really make myself pretty for him.) We spent some nights at his place, and some at mine. And not every night was sexual. That would be impossible.
On his urging, I started growing my hair longer. And I got my ears pierced. And I went to his family's home for Christmas, although we didn't define the nature of our relationship to them. (I think his grandmother suspected.)
In January, we drove to Alabama, to escape the cold weather, spending a week along the Gulf Coast. And I lived that week as if I had been born female. And it was a wonderful seven days, and tough to end.
As you can tell, our "no strings attached" rule had turned into quite the opposite. He used the L word first, and I returned it. For his birthday, I got a tattoo. Yes. I got the tattoo. At the base of my spine. I got a tramp stamp for him. There was no turning back now.
We made plans to move in together, and we came out to our friends, which went well, and to our families, which didn't. I found a place that could do laser hair removal, and got rid of my facial hair, and my chest hair. There were repercussions at work, and I got called a faggot and threatened more than a few times, but after talking to HR, things calmed down.
Now, we're back at the cabin, our annual trip with friends, only this time, Charlie and I have a room to ourselves. And I'm wearing a bikini, because I've been on hormones for about two months. And I suspect that, as we celebrate the one year anniversary of it all starting, Charlie is going to propose.
Kierra
- 27.12.2020
- 9
- 0
