Email to Kay
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Email Reality free porn video
EMAIL REALITY
by
Lauren Westley
(Authoress Note: All disclaimers regarding characters, age
appropriateness etc are in effect. This piece is about humiliation,
degradation and other XXXX sexuality. This is a short story and not sure
when or if I'll complete. If you read it I hope you like it and if it's
not your thing just stop reading now. Thanks, [email protected]
I know I'm neither pretty nor young but even though to the eye I'm
visible as an older man that's on the outside it doesn't change who I am
inside.
The Boeing 737 plane had landed and was just finishing taxing to the
gate as I sat wondering, 'was this a good idea?" From my window seat I
could see the gangway rolling towards the cabin. It was a beautiful
afternoon with the sun shinning. The beauty of the sun on the earth
after an earlier thunderstorm always seemed like an omen. In a few
moments I would deplane. My mind drifted.
Within the next 10 minutes I would be meeting him and I'd either be on
the next plane home or on a new journey. The deal was simple. We'd meet
at the airport and if 'first-sight' was a 'no go' we'd just separate. If
it appeared 'ok' we'd travel to his house for the next step on this
erotic dream reality.
The cabin bell went off. Passengers began to stand. I was in row 13 with
a window seat, so I'd be one of the first off the plane.
His name is Don and I have no idea what he looks like. We ended up
meeting through emails. Discussing who we are rather then what we looked
like. In a little bit I expected what I looked like would result in a
pleasant dismissal and a flight home. Look, I'm 5' 9" 50 plus and 170
pounds. Not exactly 'slut' material. However, I have no gray hair. Not
balding and hardly hairy. In my 20's I could have easily passed as a
girl. I have no idea now except for the one time I put on lipstick and
thought my lips didn't look feminine. Having looked at numerous women's
lips since then I realize it wasn't my lips but the learned knowledge
girls have about applying makeup.
But it's who I am on the inside. Inside I'm 5'6" mid 20's and 120
pounds. The gender doesn't change my inside persona except I have small
breasts and a small enough penis to think of it as a clit. I can't
explain why I don't envision a real pussy. Now my outside penis is about
5" so it just a bit smaller then average.
"Sir," I heard the woman wearing a 'I'm a Girl' t-shirt with her 38DDD's
expanding the shirt in confirmation saying it was time for me to get up
and to stop daydreaming. I rose apologizing to the other passengers for
dawdling (if they only knew what I was thinking about) and entered the
aisle.
This is a small airport so I knew I'd be meeting Don in just a few
minutes. If we both approved we'd go to his car. There was still another
safety catch. We had decided a few things in advance. Dan had bought
whatever outfit, lipstick, perfume, shoes and/or whatever he wanted me
to dress in. I had paid for the air travel.
If, after we arrived at his home, Don told me to get dressed I would
have the choice to do that or call a cab to take me back to the airport.
We had agreed since I was paying for the airfare Don would buy what he
wanted me to wear but if I decided to leave the cab fare was my problem
and that would be about $60 from his place. I had already spent $360 for
the round trip flight and another $50 for travel to and from my hometown
airport. He knew my measurements. Yes I know in girl size I was
definitely a plus but fortunately not a plus/plus.Isn't it funny a Plus
size is actually a minus sign. But Don hadn't seemed to care. He seemed
more interested with who was inside me and his desires to make my inside
and outside persona one when I was with him.
I walked up the ramp into the brightly lit terminal with a nervous lump
in my throat and a panic in my groin proceeding towards baggage claim.
My blue jeans, yellow sneakers and a white t-shirt made me look
ridiculous to the casual observer but quite obvious to someone who knew
what to look for. The idea was Don would have first sight of refusal by
seeing me and then coming over and telling me to go or follow him
depending how he felt. Of course, I had the last right by calling the
cab at his place.
Walking through the airport I saw the restroom. Even though I had gone
on the plane my eyes stopped to look over the sign above the woman's
room. You know the blue stick figure skirt. I watched so many of the
women enter after the plane ride and imagined they wouldn't use the one
on the airplane unless absolutely necessary. Squatting over a toilet at
30,000 with the plane swaying must not be an easy pee. Don hadn't seemed
much interested in my conversation about 'bathroom control' but as I
passed the ladies room I wondered how our fantasies would play out if
this went all the way. And what if one of my fantasies turned sour?
Since I didn't have control what would that mean?
Over the past month we had conversed about my limitations and his
desires. But we both had certain limitations and desires. Neither of us
was into 'scat'. I didn't want any other women present if he decided on
having guests and there was no way I was going to be photographed or do
anything in public. One of his desires was to have me hang from my
arms, bound, gagged and blindfolded. Something I had never considered.
But an escapade such as this would obviously find areas of agreement and
others of exploration so I had agreed. In fact there was much we hadn't
discussed about what would happen since this was a journey and not a
rulebook. Suffice it to say he was the Dom,
The steps to baggage claim were just ahead. I only had brought a plain
black with wheels 'carry-on'. Looking around I hadn't seen anyone with
the old luggage with handles. Whatever happened to that stuff? Where did
it go?
I was so nervous walking down those steps I watched my feet thinking
what if I were wearing heels. Don knew I hadn't done dress up except for
when I was much younger. Would he expect me to wear heels? Nor had I
ever applied makeup except for lipstick once. What would he expect me to
do? He was aware I had never tried to walk in heels and that my legs
weren't shaved though they weren't very hairy either. None of that had
mattered to Don. It's part of why I was willing to come.
During the past month we had talked about these moments and those to
come. If we got to the part of my walking in dressed in whatever he
wanted me to wear he would become "Sir" and I'd be "Slut" or any other
name he chose.
It was late Friday afternoon and my return ticket was for 1pm Sunday. So
the next 48 hours would be interesting whether we went all the way or
even if I just went home. The escalator ended and I pulled my bag behind
me as I walked to baggage claim and waited at the spot Don had picked
out.
What was I doing here? This fluttered through my mind as I trembled
inside with the fear of an early British explorer mapping the African
jungles hearing unheard sounds from undiscovered animals. And then I
heard the word Don had said he would use to identify himself.
"Miss," he whispered into my left ear.
Startled I stepped back and turned to the voice. There he was. He was
somewhere around 50 plus with salt and pepper hair. He was taller then
me but not much but his voice made him appear stockier. He was wearing
jeans and before I could really see more his voice penetrated my
consciousness.
"Follow me," he stipulated.
This meant we were taking the next step. If he had said, "Sorry wrong
person" then I would have simply walked over to ticketing and seen if I
could get a flight home.
I turned to follow him and as we had earlier agreed I walked a few paces
behind as if we were strangers, which of course we were. As I pulled my
bag along on its wheels I couldn't decide how I felt about him
physically. I was more drawn by what I knew about him over our month of
emails then the details of the body walking in front of me.
One of his emails mentioned how he likes to have "her nipples and tip of
her clitty clamped and chained together with the leash attached to
them." What Don meant by the leash attached I could only imagine. Did it
mean he would walk her? Would it hurt? Was this going to be me soon?
Don walked through the electronic sliding doors as I followed him into
the parking lot and then to his F150. In a few minutes we were driving
north along the highway to his house. We didn't talk along the way. That
had been his decision in an email. He said we were in this for the
experience and talking away before the final step would cloud things.
Now I'm not stupid. I mitigated the risk by getting his home address,
his full name, his phone number etc and before I had left I wrote a
letter explaining to whoever read it if I didn't get back on Sunday what
had happened. The note, which I had mailed to myself a week earlier, sat
in a drawer on the hall table near my front door. I was sure it would be
found by Tuesday if I didn't return since I had paper clipped it to the
check for my cleaning lady. She'd figure it was for her and open it. The
letter was very simple. His name, address, email, phone was listed as
well as a brief note explaining he was trying to blackmail me and I had
gone to meet with him. I figured that would be enough to get things
moving if I didn't return.
The F150 rolled away from the city its deep throaty exhaust mesmerizing
me as the trees became the scenery with the buildings lessening. It was
a small city with a regional airport and before long we had exited the
Interstate onto a state road driving through farmland. About half-hour
after we had left the airport we turned into the driveway of a quite
ordinary ranch house. The house was set back from the road. On the side
we had driven by was a large piece of farmland. I couldn't see if there
were neighbors on the other side because a dense hedge lined the right
of the driveway.
The privacy of the place was just as Don had described it in his email.
I got out of the car, we walked up the stoop and Don opened the door. We
hadn't really talked during the drive. Oh, Don had said something about
the weather but really this wasn't a typical social visit and I had kept
quiet. Actually what we had been emailing about doing and now were near
carrying out most would think was quite anti-social.
Once inside the house Don told me to go sit in the living room on the
wooden chair. He went to the kitchen and I walked into the living room.
It was moderately furnished with a sofa, two easy chairs and a flat
screen TV on the wall. All in all it was in good shape but it was
definitely a single man's decorating touch. A bit away from the center
was the chair Don had mentioned, It was a simple bar stool. It didn't go
with the furniture but when I looked around I could see on the other
side of the foyer what would have been the dining room a round table
with several of the same bar stools around it. (You know the kind that
are chair height.) I sat down.
I'm not sure how long I sat there perhaps for 10 minutes when Don came
out drinking a beer and plinked down in his sofa looking at me.
Again time passed. Part of me wanted to call a cab but the other part
wondered what he was thinking. Would he ask me to call a cab? I mean
asking me here it should be up to me but listen I'm not very girl
looking and he may be changing his mind. But, if he told me to go up and
change I was suppose to not only change my outfit but also everything
else as best I could. In other words I was to be his submissive slut
girl when I came back down.
More time passed as he drank his beer. He sat with his legs spread apart
and his other hand reached down to his balls to move his penis but to me
it was sexual not simply a matter of releasing his penis. He finished
his beer and put the bottle down on the coffee table.
A small smile broke through his lips as his voice floated over that
smile saying, "Slut, go upstairs and change."
This was the moment. My 'ah ha' moment as I rose wondering if I should
call a cab or not. By the time I was on the third step of the hallway
stairs I realized it was not a cab I was calling it was the tramp inside
me.
When I got to the top of the stairs I saw an 11x8 piece of paper with
the word SLUT and an arrow in red magic marker. I followed it to the end
of the hall and opened the door to the room with another piece of paper
with just the word SLUT on it.
The room was pink and white and on the bed was a piece of paper. Next to
the paper was a matching pair of white panties and bra from some Adam
and Eve catalogue. There was also a pair of clip-on gold dangling
earrings, white thigh-high stockings, white opened-toe strappy shoes, a
spray bottle of 'Faith" perfume and a tube of Target 'Denver Sheer
Blushy Pink lipstick. Seems Don had done his shopping on-line.
Also on the bed was a small gift-wrapped box. It was wrapped in pink
paper with a yellow store bought bow and a card with just, 'SLUT" in
printer script pink.
I picked up the note also computer generated in the same color. It
simply said, "Take off all your clothes, take a shower, put on only what
is on the bed, You'll notice the panties have a small hole cut out in
the front that is where your clit will hang from. Open the box after
you've done everything else and do what it says. Then, come back
downstairs, Sir."
Twenty minutes later I was opening the box and found a small pink butt
plug, a bottle of lube and a note. "Put this in your pussy and come
downstairs immediately."
Walking down the stairs with the plug in my ass, my clit hanging out of
the hole (which I noticed had been sewn with a pink elastic edging)
wearing moderately high heels was both exhilarating and fearful. I
thought back to those steps going down to the baggage claim area. I was
looking at my feet now but they were girly toes and I was being very
careful how I walked.
At the bottom of the steps I could see the table was actually a poker
table to my right. It brought back the memory of an email he had sent
telling me of another sub who had serviced his friends at a poker party
one night. The chips were on the table just as my chips were now as I
turned left and went into the living room.
Standing in front of Don in bra, panties, butt plug, stockings and heels
smelling very girly waiting made my penis swell poking out of the
elasticized hole.
(to be continued)
Bree
- 02.11.2021
- 28
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