First time sub domination by my date
- 3 years ago
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My First Date free porn video
My First Date
"I'm the same person I was an hour ago, you just know a bit more
about me. That's all."
"I'm not sure I wanted to know more about you," he said.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But I
really needed someone to talk to. I needed an outside viewpoint," I
said.
I had just come out to my best friend. We had known each other for
6 years, and he had never known, or suspected I was a crossdresser.
It's not an easy thing to be. Most people don't accept the idea of
something more than just 2 genders, and even those who do accept, many
don't understand.
For Josh, I went slowly. I did all the research, and had all the
answers to his few questions. I explained how I didn't want to become
female, or even live full-time. He asked if I were gay, and I told him
how it was a non-sexual thing for me. Yes, I did tell him how some
transgendered people preferred sex with men, while others were women-
only, and still others were attracted to both, or either, depending on
their mood. For me, it was a neither thing. I just didn't feel sexual
when I was dressed. As a man, I was always gunning for the ladies, which
I think just served to confuse him further.
He didn't believe me until I showed him some of my best pictures.
Even then, it took some staring before he finally accepted the pictures
as mine.
"I'm basically the same person, en femme, as I am as a guy," I
said. "I don't perform, or get all campy. I don't hang out at the adult
bookstore, and I don't go to the mall dressed like this."
Josh nodded, with a furrow in his brow.
"Are you upset, or weirded out by this?"
"No. I don't think so. Maybe I am. I dunno," he said. "I guess I'm
not really comfortable with the idea of seeing you in drag. A picture is
one thing...," he trailed off.
"Don't worry. You won't have to see me. I'm not planning on
suddenly changing everything about my life. I guess I just needed to
tell somebody."
"But you said you had other transvestite friends you e-mail and
chat with," he offered.
"I do, but, sometimes it's nice to have an outsider to talk to.
But if you don't want to talk about it, I'll understand. I just hope we
can still hang out...as guys."
"Yeah. Sure we can. No problem," he said as he left.
I wasn't convinced of that, and the next four days seemed to be
proof. We had always got together at a bar during the week, to play
pool, drink, scope the chicks, and gripe about life. He didn't call to
make the date, and I didn't want to force anything else upon him, so I
didn't call either.
When he did call on Thursday night, it wasn't to play pool.
"Y'know, I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said, without even
a hello. "And, I figure, you're a pretty decent person, and I try to be
pretty open minded." He paused, waiting for me to jump in. I didn't.
"Ah, what the hell. What are you doing Saturday night? Why don't
you take me to this gay nightclub you told me about?"
Wow. This was unexpected. "Sure!" I said. "If you get
uncomfortable, we can leave."
"Just don't let any of them fairies try to pick me up, 'kay?" I
could hear his grin over the phone. "I'm your date for the night."
He sounded comfortable enough with the idea, but I had to wonder
if I was. The Storehouse was a pretty different place, even if you were
part of the alternative culture. Men were grinding against each other on
the dance floor; bull dykes were alternately feuding and fondling by the
pool tables; dominates were leading their submissives around, and
drunken frat boys were picking fights, while secretly hoping to get
picked up.
There weren't many people like me there. The city had no active
transgender community. Occasionally, I'd meet another crossdresser
there, but more often than not, gender-bending was reserved for the
monthly shows. I wanted Josh to be comfortable with my proclivities,
just to have someone else to talk to, face to face. My fear was the
Storehouse might scare him away completely.
My second concern was what to wear. Naturally, I wanted to look
good, but not too good. I didn't want him to think I was trying to
seduce him, because in all honesty, I wasn't. Sex with men just wasn't a
turn-on. I had been hit on at the club, but never allowed myself to be
picked up. Not even by a couple of tipsy lesbians who knew what I was,
and didn't care. I was holding out for admiration. It was nice to know
someone found you attractive.
Saturday morning came, and I still hadn't decided what to put on.
Before I knew it, 4 o'clock had rolled around, and I was nowhere near
ready. Josh was coming by at 8:30, and my legs hadn't seen a razor in 2
months.
As I shaved, I mentally considered different outfits. Most were
either too tarty, or too big. A fierce diet and exercise regimen meant
most of my conservative clothing was just too large anymore.
I still hadn't selected an outfit by the time I had finished
painting my face, or by the time I fixed my hair. So, I settled on the
old standby: the LBD.
The little black dress has been a lifesaver for women for probably
thousands of years, and this one was no exception. The long sleeves and
mock turtleneck gave it an air of respectability. The short hemline
showed off my best feature. I added simple gold hoop clip-ons, black
hose and black, patent leather pumps to complete the ensemble.
I was just attaching the last red press-on nail when I heard his
car pull in the driveway. I quick spritz of perfume and I met him at the
door.
"Wow," he said, somewhat open-mouthed. "I'll admit, I am
impressed."
"Thanks!" I blushed slightly. "It takes a lot of paint to make a
guy what he ain't."
"Wow," he said again, and I blushed even more. I don't think I
look very pretty, but he apparently saw it differently. The mirror has
two faces, I guess. "Ummm, Do you have a, uh, special name?"
"When I'm dressed, I go by Lisa. But you can still call me Ozzy,
(my nickname. My real name is Austin) if that makes you more
comfortable."
"Jeez, I'd feel awkward," he said, "So, Lisa it is."
Perhaps I had underestimated him, I thought as we walked to the
car, in the moonlit night. Perhaps he was more comfortable with this
than I was.
Or perhaps not. "So where is this place?" he asked as we got in
the car. As pretty as he made me feel, he didn't think enough to open
the door for me. "I'm overanalyzing this," I thought, "he's still
treating me as a friend, and that's good enough for me."
Josh's eyes were wide as we walked in. Only a quarter past nine:
the place wasn't really hopping yet, and he was already seeing things he
never experienced before. The 6'3", body-building bouncer wearing
nothing but leather shorts; the 6'7" drag queen in sequins and
stilettos, and a flaming waiter all got stares and a wide berth from
Josh.
As we stood in the doorway, taking it all in, I realized how much
taller Josh was than me. Even with the heels and the hair, he was still
about 2 inches taller. I guess I had never noticed before, because I
considered him an equal. People I respected always seemed taller in my
imagination. If I were barefoot, I guessed, Josh was probably 5 inches
over me.
I led him to a table in the corner, out of the way, with a good
vantage point. We both enjoyed people-watching, and I explained to him,
"This is about the best place in the world for people watching."
He only grunted a reply as his gaze flew around the club. We were
silent for about 5 minutes, as he watched the crowd, and I watched him.
I was worried again that this had been a mistake.
That worry was unfounded. By the end of our second drink, we had
moved off the table and were running the nearest pool table. Things were
right again, Josh and me, hanging out in the bar, drinking and
bullshitting. Our conversation was as it always was: about work, women,
and whatnot.
The subject of gay bars, and my gender issue never came up. Until
about 11, anyway. Even then, it was fleeting.
Josh started it. "You said you were pretty much the same person,
no matter how you dressed," he said, staring into the crowd. "But that's
not true. You're very different tonight." He paused, searching for the
right words. "I keep...forgetting you're not a girl."
And that was that. I was momentarily embarrassed, and so was he. I
blushed again, and looked down at my shoes, pleased, as I realized it
was a compliment.
The moment soon passed, and we continued our game.
I had moderated my alcohol intake because I didn't want to have to
abandon him while I ran to the bathroom, and I wanted to be able to have
a good talk about things should he want to. But never again did he bring
it up, and I didn't either. Why spoil a good time with words?
"Wanna hit the dance floor," I asked near closing time.
We looked at each other for a moment, and both answered,
"Naaaaah."
"Let's get out of here," he said, "the smoke is starting to get to
me." I couldn't blame him. It wasn't doing me any good either.
We were both laughing about something or other when we made it
outside, and it wasn't until I was seated that I realized he had
unlocked and opened the car door for me.
The ride home was mostly in silence, as I thought about what the
gesture meant, and he processed the night's activities too.
We pulled into my driveway, and he turned off the ignition. "Here
it comes, I thought. The Talk." He seemed to have enjoyed the night, but
I wondered if he had hidden his doubts for my benefit.
"I had a really good time tonight," he said, turning to me
slightly. "I was nervous, I'll admit, but it wasn't that bad. I may even
think we should do it again."
We did have a good time. So good, in fact, that the night flew by.
It never felt like we were a crossdresser and a straight guy out for the
first time. It was natural. We were just two friends out on the town.
"I had a good time too," I said, as I took a chance and reached
over to hug him. "Thank you."
"No, thank you," Josh said, as he hugged back. "You're the best
date I've had in months!"
We laughed and as we broke the hug, I gave him a quick, impetuous
kiss on the cheek. "I'm the only date you've had in months!"
We laughed again, holding eye contact; not exactly hugging, but
not letting go either. I realized a good part of me didn't want the
evening to end. I was about to suggest we go to a caf? or truck stop for
coffee, when It happened.
There are moments in life where time slows down. When rational
thought and reason fly away and nature takes over. It happens when a
bookworm races into a burning building and pulls out an unconscious
form. It happens when the company coward suddenly races out of his
foxhole and attacks an enemy pillbox. No-one can explain or force such a
moment, and no-one can predict one either.
Our eyes had locked onto each other, and our heads tilted towards
each other. But by the time my mind had processed that, our lips were
already together.
By the time I realized I was kissing another man, his tongue was
already crossing my lips. Don't let anyone tell you differently: men and
women kiss differently. And I was taking his kiss like a woman.
But by the time I figured that out, I realized my arms were
already around him again, pulling him closer. My body was experiencing
completely new sensations: the faded scent of his cologne and the smell
of smoke in his hair and beer on his breath; the stubble on his chin,
rubbing against my soft and smooth skin; and the feel of his slightly
chapped lips on my moist, painted ones were all new, and all very
exciting.
So when I realized his hand was on my thigh, I was already
intoxicated. My hands were already pressing on his back, pulling him
closer.
I'm not sure who broke the kiss, or who started first, but we both
dug into each other's necks: him taking big, hungry, toothless bites out
of mine, me taking little nibbles out of his, leaving bright red marks
of lipstick as I went.
The fingers on his left hand were making little circles on the
inside of my left thigh, the feeling of flesh and bone touching me
through nylon exhilarating. So exciting, in fact, the words came out of
my mouth before I even considered putting them there.
"Do you want to come inside?"
"Yes," Josh said, breathily.
I don't know if it was a mistake to invite him in or not. Had we
stayed in the car, things certainly would have progressed much further,
whether we wanted them to or not. But the walk to the door wasn't
necessarily good either. It gave us each time to think clearly about
what was going to happen. And by the time we were inside, our minds were
again working properly.
I went through the motions of getting us each a drink, not knowing
what else to do. But it was, clear: the spell was broken. I wasn't gay,
and neither was he.
He was still there, when I came back from the kitchen, and that
surprised me. He was sitting on the couch, staring at his feet. I sat
down, with about 2 feet in between us, and said nothing. The atmosphere
was plain: something wrong had happened. It didn't matter that it was
accidental, a line had been crossed.
My mind raced back into overdrive: Why had we kissed? What
overtook us? Was I going to lose my friend? What were we thinking? Why
weren't we thinking?
His voice again broke the silence. "I'm sorry. I guess I just
forgot you weren't a woman." I held my words, waiting for the
pronouncement.
"Maybe it was the drinks, but I had such a good time tonight. I
never had such a good time on a date. We actually talked. It wasn't one-
sided, or forced. It was just good to be with someone, and not have to
work to impress them, or pretend to be interested.
"And in the car, you just looked so pretty," he said. I leaned
over and nudged his shoulder with mine.
"No wonder you're so popular with the ladies," I said, and we
chuckled. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer. "I mean it,
Lisa. Or Ozzy. Or whoever. I had a good time with you tonight, and I
haven't felt this comfortable with anyone in a long time. If that makes
me gay, so be it."
I looked up at him, and his deep brown eyes, and slipped. His face
was covered in lipstick, and I briefly wondered how atrocious I looked.
I didn't see a man holding me. I saw a person. A person I very much
wanted to be with as much as possible.
I closed my eyes as he lowered his lips to mine. We kissed for
what seemed like forever. Kissing, touching, holding, caressing,
pressing, feeling, experiencing.
I was running out of breath when I pushed him away, and stood up.
I held his hand in mine, and gently pulled him to a standing position.
"So be it," I whispered to him, and led him to my bedroom.
Epilogue:
He treated me like his lady, and I acted like his woman that
night. We made love 3 or 4 times, briefly dozing in-between. Even after
the first time, when my wig came off, we didn't hesitate.
In the morning, I woke up first and jumped in the shower. I was
wondering if he'd be there when I came out; if we would still feel the
magic without my makeup. My heart sang when the shower curtain parted,
and he came in to wash my back, and nether regions.
We were both too tired to do anything more than massage and clean
each other, and ended the shower wordlessly. But once back in bed,
cuddling, we talked. We talked and we dozed for most of Sunday.
Together, we didn't consider ourselves homosexual, and neither one
of us thought I was transsexual, especially after I did to him what he
did to me, and vice versa. What we had discovered was beyond gender. It
was needing and being needed; friendship; and the comfort of being
comfortable. Call it love, if you will, but it was stronger and more
real than anything I felt before.
That was 3 years ago. We're still together, having moved into my
house 18-months ago, and planning a commitment ceremony next week. Just
for the record, I am going to be the blushing bride.
Miracle
- 15.07.2022
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