Dorothy
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Dorothy free porn video
The Christmas of my junior year at University of Southern California, I
opted to refuse my parents' invitation to return home to Maryland, for
the first time in my twenty-one years. It wasn't much of a surprise ? I'd
known this particular abnormality would come about since I first learned
I would be attending USC. My parents were understanding as well, and I
promised to be back for the spring holiday, which is something I didn't
usually bother with.
The reason for my choice to remain on the West Coast was relatively
singular: an age-old friend of mine was turning thirty, and she had
decided to celebrate with a costume party at one of the most popular and
impressive clubs in Los Angeles. Her name was Stacey, and she had indeed
been planning this event for years. She invited me back when I was a
freshman, and she held true to her promise. I, too, had invested years of
planning and preparation for the party.
I had never attended a costume party, even in my years at the university.
Now, at twenty-one, I figured I'd reached the prime of my physical
health. At only five foot five, I weighed in at about one hundred and ten
pounds, having worked off a great deal of my unnecessary weight over the
past few years by playing soccer religiously. I was slight, without an
overly muscular physique. My collarbones and hipbones were pronounced, my
arms and legs both toned and shapely. In preparation for this Christmas,
I'd allowed my brown hair to grow long, permitting it to fall in feathery
locks to my shoulders.
The way I saw it, this costume party would allow me to fulfill one of my
greatest desires. Supported by Stacey, I'd even gone so far as to spend
somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred dollars purchasing the perfect
costume off of a website Stacey personally recommended.
The party was in six hours, and I'd resisted the temptation for the past
four days to open the box that had arrived at my dormitory. It was
relatively nondescript, standard in dimensions. Now, with my roommate
spending the holiday with his family, I was prepared to get ready for the
party.
I decided to shower first, leaving the box on my bed. I spent a good hour
showering, lathering my entire body thickly in soft pink shaving foam.
Taking up a razor, I ran the blade along my legs, groin, stomach, chest,
underarms, rear, and even my arms. Lathering up again, I repeated the
procedure with the razor, this time running the blade in the opposite
direction. I finished up the job with my neck and face, even making sure
to trim my sideburns down to my hairline. This was easily accomplished
with the aid of the mirror I'd purchased, which affixed directly to the
showerhead. Putting down the razor, I picked up a pair of tweezers and
went about patiently and meticulously trimming down my eyebrows, not
overly so, but just enough to give them a sleeker and more curved
appearance. Before I prepared to leave the shower, I settled on the floor
of the shower, and once again picked up my razor. I paid special
attention to my groin, insuring that I was completely smooth.
Satisfied and utterly convinced that I was baby smooth all over, except
for my shoulder-length locks, I stepped from the shower to towel off. I
spent time then rubbing body lotion over my newly shaven body, and then
topped it all off with a light sprinkle of baby powder. Moving to the
mirror above my sink, I plugged in a blow dryer and picked up a brush. I
brushed through my hair, as I dried it thoroughly. I even picked up a
pair of scissors, making small adjustments to the fall of my hair. In
particular, I was rather proud, when I put down the blow dryer, of the
sweeping bangs that fell across my forehead.
Taking one last twirl in the bathroom, I moved back into the bedroom to
open the box. I was more than satisfied with what lay within. One by one,
I unearthed and appraised the pieces of my costume. The undergarments
came first. A pair of nylon stay-up stockings, designed to be pulled up
to mid-thigh and trimmed with lace, met my approval. So did the high-cut
panties, white and innocent, trimmed with matching lace and marked with a
little light blue bow on the front. Next was a many-layered, frilly
crinoline petticoat. This was designed to fit under the crowning garment,
which came next: a gingham dress, complete with the puffy white sleeves
at the shoulder, the square-cut neckline tailored to reveal both
collarbones and cleavage, and designed to fall only to just above mid-
thigh. At the very bottom lay a pair of patent leather pumps, with a
thick heel and a strap that buckled across the ankle. To my delight, they
were the perfect shade of ruby red.
Finding everything exactly as I wished, I began to dress. I slipped into
a simple white bra, with build-in breast forms. The bra pushed together
my pectorals, creating a convincing cleavage, while the breast forms did
the rest of the work. I'd chosen to only boast a pair of ample B-cup
breasts, having always found smaller breasts far more attractive in my
girlfriends. Next I slipped into the panties, making sure to tuck my
"clitty" back between my thighs. This wasn't very difficult ? aroused, I
was only about five inches. Flaccid as I was now, I was barely an inch.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I rolled the stockings and slipped
my feet into them one at a time. I pulled them smoothly up to mid-thigh,
taking a glance in the mirror at this point. The lingerie was perfect.
Next I pulled on the petticoat, which attached to my bra by narrow
straps, so that I didn't run the risk of it falling down to my ankles.
The dress came next, and I was most thrilled about slipping it over my
head and fumbling with the zipper in the back. It was rather difficult to
get it all the way up to the top, so I knew it would be even trickier to
unzip it later. Finally, I slipped my small feet into the pumps. I was
only about an eight in men's sizes, if I was lucky.
Moving into the bathroom again, I began to brush my hair out one more
time. Retrieving a couple of baby blue ribbons, I combed my hair into
pigtails and tied them off. Truly, braids would have worked better, but I
lacked that talent, and I'd always loved pigtails more. At last came the
makeup. Having done theatre, I was rather experienced here. But tonight,
I was very modest, using a light layer of foundation and an even lighter
layer of blush on my cheekbones. I ran dark eyeliner beneath my eyes,
delicately applied mascara, and touched a little pink eye shadow above my
blue eyes. I was tore between pink lip-gloss and red lipstick, but
finally settled on the latter. It added a slightly sluttier touch to the
otherwise virginal appearance.
Everything was as I prepared ? and I was just in time. At that very
moment, my cell phone rang. Answering, I discovered Stacey was waiting
just downstairs. Tossing my cell phone, my I.D., and about seventy
dollars in a small, ruby red clutch, I raced downstairs as quickly as I
could in my heels.
Stacey was impressed, though I was more relieved I'd run into nobody
exiting my dormitory. She giggled and cooed about how perfect I looked,
and withdrew what she claimed was the final touch. A black collar ? it
appeared to be an actual dog's collar, marked with a silver tag.
"I know Toto was the puppy, but I thought it would be best if everyone
knew just who the little Dorothy belonged to, tonight," Stacey explained
with a wink. She was much taller than I, and decked out in a sexy, feline
costume. "Tonight, you're my little pet. And I can't wait to show you
off, Dorothy."
True to form, the name Dorothy was etched on the tag, as well as Property
of Stacey, in smaller script. She buckled the collar around my neck, and
escorted me to her car. Everything, I thought, was falling into place
perfectly.
The gala event was ten times more impressive than I'd thought possible.
Truly stunned, I was struck dumb and awkward for at least the first half
hour. Stacey introduced me to a great number of her friends, before
depositing me at the bar. She disappeared back into the crowd, though I
wasn't disheartened. A number of shots of Southern Comfort awaited me,
and it certainly helped me loosen up.
Pretty soon, I was more than slightly inebriated, and out on the dance
floor. I'd never been a great dancer, but I found it was much easier when
everyone thought you were a girl. No one, it appeared, knew I was
actually a boy ? and I really didn't bother with correcting such
impressions.
With the heels, I was now around five foot seven, but I still felt tiny
compared to all of the men and even most of the women out on the dance
floor. Now before tonight, I'd never actually experienced the attention
of another man, though I'd certainly entertained homoerotic thoughts
before. But seeing as I was wearing a dress and under the guiding
influence of Southern Comfort, I didn't dissuade a single one of the many
male suitors who approached me.
I danced with every one of them, experiencing something I'd only ever
known from the other side ? the sensation of having a thick erection
pressed either into the small of your back, or into your groin. Allowing
the male to set the rhythm and pace, I just felt into the hypnotic
swinging and grinding of our hips, time after time.
One man, in particular, kept requesting dance after dance. I obliged, of
course. His name was Will, and he was dressed like someone out of Miami
Vice. He wore a pair of white trousers, a pink dress-shirt that was
partially unbuttoned, and a blue and pink plaid blazer. The blazer's
sleeves had been shoved up to his elbows, and the entire wardrobe was
topped off with a pair of aviators.
We danced for an hour at a time, and then retired each time to the bar
for drinks. I kept downing the Southern Comfort, well accustomed with
heavy amounts of that particular whiskey. And then we were back on the
dance floor, my rear pressed into his groin, or the reverse, straddling
one of his legs as I pressed my head against his chest. He liked to play
with my neck and pigtails, running his hands through my hair, and then
down my back to grip my rear. I found myself giggling and blushing at the
attention, and it was probably another hour later before I found myself
being led off to one of the couches.
Everyone was necking or making out here, so I was surprised when I
suddenly found myself kissing another man for the first time. He was
aggressive, and I submitted immediately to his searching tongue. His
hands were everywhere, cupping my cheek, touching my neck, brushing my
breasts, wrapping around my waist, running up my thigh. I squirmed
closer, far too inebriated to stop and think rationally.
Everything began to move in a blur. One moment, Will was whispering in my
ear as I giggled in protest. The next moment, Will had pulled his
straining erection free and placed my small hand around it. I admit,
drunk as I was, I was very shocked by this development. Not only was
Will's cock an immense nine inches, but we were also in a very public
domain.
Things only got far more hectic, though. It seemed like mere moments
later, and Will had me kneeling before the couch, confronted with his
cock up close and personal. I tried to stop and gather my thoughts ? this
was definitely farther than I'd anticipated I'd be going. This was far
more than innocent hooking up. But then Will was easing me closer, his
hand at the back of my head. I didn't even have time to study my first
cock, before it was between my lips.
I definitely wasn't doing much of the work. Will, who now was using my
pigtails for leverage, began to forcibly fuck my mouth. He kept murmuring
for me to relax my throat, open wider. I finally submitted, and was
struck by the strange sensation of my mouth becoming just an open, warm
entrance for Will's cock. He was doing all the thrusting, drawing the
cock out of my mouth, and then back in. I murmured something, though it
probably sounded more like a pleasured moan.
I knew this was probably becoming a public curiosity. I felt the eyes of
other couples turning, though they all seemed to be appreciative ? not
disapproving. I thought I even saw Stacey, and she certainly wasn't
intervening on my behalf. And just when I'd rolled my eyes up to focus on
Will, I was treated to my first mouthful of cum.
Gagging, I swallowed and swallowed as Will erupted into my throat,
strings of his load dripping from my lips and chin. He grinned, petting
my head and murmuring something coy or witty about being a good girl, and
how I must have learned some important lessons in obedience and duty on
that farm in Kansas.
Cum still dripping from my lips, I was next stumbling across the room.
Will was leading me, again, and I couldn't even remember getting to my
feet. But before I knew it, I was being dragged down one of the back
hallways of the club. A door opened, and I was tossed down on the ground.
Landing on my hands and knees, I was told to stay as I was. I looked over
my shoulder, blinking to try and clear my blurred vision. Will's trousers
dropped, as he tossed aside his jacket and shirt as well. Already hard
again, Will moved behind me and flipped up my gingham dress, bunching it
around my waist. Kicking my heels apart, Will positioned himself and
tugged my panties down to my knees.
"Now be a good girl, Dorothy, and take it like the bitch you are."
Those were the last words I remembered hearing, before Will spit on his
hand, lubed up his cock, and pressed against my virgin, tight rosebud. He
forced himself inside me slowly but steadily, and I remember gasping in
sudden pain. The pain only mounted, as each inch slid into my clenched
anus. My gasps turned into moans of pain, and finally whimpers of
submission.
"That's it, girl, whimper for me. Bark, you little bitch."
I thought perhaps I was imagining this humiliation, but I was wrong. Will
slapped my ass, commanding me again to bark. Shocked, I did so, woofing
as convincingly as possible as Will sodomized me from behind. The slow,
steady intrusion was swiftly snowballing towards something far more
frightening ? but, I admit, more pleasurable. His strokes were becoming
faster and deeper, and what started as sodomy had now become fucking. I
groaned, in growing enjoyment, and pushed my hips back into his thrusts.
Will continued to command me, telling me to whimper or bark repeatedly
throughout my first time with a man's cock buried in my ass. I know I
must have looked quite the sight, with my pigtails and gingham dress
bunched up around my waist. The very thought alone of how this must all
look to an outside observer turned me on far more than the feeling of
Will's thick cock pressing against my prostate. I shivered, my small cock
exploding without warning. And then I believe I blacked out, from the
combination of alcohol and stress?
Liesl
- 22.02.2020
- 17
- 0
