Through The Door: Part One free porn video

Through The Door Part One They were well into a bottle of wine. His trousers unbuckled, her hand expertly teasing, not letting him go too far. Then she stood before him, unhooked the little black dress, and let it drop, her eyes never leaving his, always with that frank, slightly teasing look. Later, he would realize, always in control. You like this, don't you? she said. Posed a little. She was wearing all black; a cami, bra, panties, thigh highs with lace trim, heels. God, yes, he said. It was what turned him on so about her. She was everything his wife was not. A lingerie and heels maven, unabashedly sexy, careful in her appearance, wearing her makeup just so, nails and toes always perfect. Decidedly feminine. Sometime after his first months at the company, she had looked right at him with an appraising, inviting, openly interested gaze. You want me? Come get me, it said. He never had a chance. Every time he looked she was gazing back. And the way she walked, with those heels, like she was walking just for him. The magnetic field of her sensuality tugged until he could think of nothing else. He organized his days around her; went out of his way to walk past her desk; made small talk, hoped his attraction wasn't too obvious to others in the office. Always there was that look. Then came the inevitable night he had to work late. And she too, somehow. The drive to her apartment followed (she would have taken a cab, she said, but, since he offered...) and the invitation in for a drink. Then, as the door to the apartment closed, she pulled him to her. A frenzy of kissing, caressing, groping and unbuckling began, his pants suddenly down to his knees, her hands urgently kneading his cock, her tongue thrusting deep in his mouth. She pulled him to her, grabbed his shirt, down to the floor. Fuck me now, she said. It was a command, said with urgency while her eyes locked on his, one hand working his cock. I want it now. Her breathing was shallow; she pulled him down on her; hands on his buttocks; her eyes locked on his; would not let him look away; squeezing his cock until the moment she moved her hips to let him enter, then pulled him hard to take it all the way. Fuck me, she said. Deeper. Harder. She could tell from the frantic, urgent look in his eyes that he was already losing control. They were panting; he was thrusting; she was using her vaginal muscles, squeezing and releasing; then he was past the point of no return. Oh God, he said. Yes, she said. Yes. Yes. Now. Her hands on his ass, pulling him hard to her, her nails leaving white indentations that would remain hours later, and he spasmed and spasmed and spasmed. Throughout she had him in her gaze. I have you now, you're mine, it said. Later, they lay on the living room floor, letting themselves down from the sexual high. He was conscious of his pants still around his knees, feeling strangely vulnerable. She had simply lifted her skirt. When did she remove her panties? Was she even wearing any? She traced a finger down his chest, then took his now flaccid member into her hand. Well, she said. It really does shrivel up into a white boy's little baby carrot, doesn't it? His soft penis fit neatly into her hand. His eyes widened, his lips opened in protest, but she quickly put a finger on his mouth. Just a little tease, baby, she said. Like they say, it's what you do with it, not the size, right? Said with her smile and that appraising look. He let the comment slide, preferred not to think about it, preferred not to think about size at all. It would be some time before he realized that night of frenetic sex, perhaps the best single fuck he ever had, was the last and only time she would let him be on top. Now, some weeks later, there had been several opportunities to rendezvous. From his point of view, the affair was perfect. She knew he was married. She had come on to him, after all. From the outset he said he had no intention of ending his marriage. If that was a problem for her, they should just stop now, he said. This was just fun; a fling; they were adults with their eyes open. Yes, baby, she would respond. Of course. We're consenting adults. Friends with benefits, right? You can leave anytime you want. Often her hand would be on his cock as she responded. She was so good; she knew exactly where to touch, how hard to squeeze, and with how much pressure, all to keep him at the edge but not beyond. So he would think to himself, yes, I can, I can leave anytime, or just not come back. But he wouldn't say it, and he could not stay away. Just like right then, as she sat next to him, hand reaching again for his cock, her tongue lightly probing between their lips, playing, tempting, nothing demanded yet. His hand on those black stockings, caressing, inching up her thigh. Your nylons are so sexy, he said, into her ear. Yes, she said. You like them, don't you? Oh yes, he said. Here, she said. Let's do this. Take your pants off. And those ugly boxers. Have I ever told you I think male boxers are ugly? He took them off. Sit down, she said, and then pressed him down on the sofa. On his back again. Since that first adventure on the living room floor, their sex had always ended with her on top. She would mount and take him, move and grind, not always responding to him, sometimes pushing against his thrusts and saying, not now. Let me. And she would move and pleasure herself and when she was ready for him to come she would expertly use her vaginal muscles to squeeze and release, again and again, moving up and down, faster and faster, almost as though she was masturbating him. In no time he would lose control. Oh, God, he would say. Yes, she would say. Then she would squeeze and push deeper to deny him any chance to back away. His orgasm would come, and then she would move and grind again, with his post-orgasmic member still inside, now growing soft and tender, ignoring him, focusing on her arousal, sometimes to the point of hurting his spent organ, until she tensed and shuddered in her own private climax. The last time, when they lay spent, he said maybe they should try it differently next, maybe with him on top again. Like the first time. Baby, she said. You don't understand. I love your sweet little cock. But, it doesn't fill me up. A woman's pussy was made to handle much larger pieces of equipment. Longer. Thicker. Yours, baby, doesn't come close. So I need to take control and work you to satisfy me. You want me to be satisfied, don't you? He did, he said. You want me to be happy? Oh, yes. So don't worry. We'll work around the fact that your package is a tiny one. He had never thought of himself as having a small one, much less tiny. Average, he would concede. But small? And she had gone from litle to tiny in a few sentences. He said, sounding a little peevish, that his wife had never complained. Baby. That's because she's probably never had a real one. I'll bet you were her fist and only. Or, if not, there wasn't much experience before you. She just doesn't know. He had no good response. They had met in college and, as far as he knew, he was her first and only. Maybe she had a point. But, she said, don't feel bad. There are so many other things I like about you. Like what, he said, needing his ego stroked, his manhood reaffirmed. Like your sensitive nature. Your delicate features. She traced her fingers on his face. Almost feminine. Have you ever noticed that? If you had been born with a vagina and not a penis, you would have made a pretty girl. And your skin is so smooth, not like those big hairy muscle guys. You're just right for me, my little sweetie. He came away from the conversation knowing his masculinity had been questioned, even mocked, but feeling oddly comforted. He looked at himself differently in the mirror. Delicate features. Almost feminine. Smooth skin. Would have made a pretty girl. There was some truth to that, he had to admit, and that realization, to his surprise, had left him aroused. Now she lay on top of him. Give me your arms, she said. She took them, pressed them down on the sofa above his head. Leave them there. Just enjoy. And she rubbed her nylons up and down, on his legs, on his cock, up on his chest. And she whispered, her sexy deep whisper that aroused him so, it feels so good, yes? So sexy. So feminine. Oh, and it did. Yes, he said. Oh yes. You love the feel, don't you, baby? I do. I do. Now her leg pressed on his cock, rubbed it, move back and forth, massaged it. You like that too, don't you? Sexy nylons on your hard little one, don't you? He heard the reference again, but the sensation was too good, too urgent. Yes, he said. God, yes. I love it. She sat up. Substituted her hand on his cock for her leg. I have an idea for something a little different, sweetie. You like sexy play, don't you, baby? Of course, he said. Then take the rest of those boy clothes off. Leave them here, and join me in the bedroom. And she walked away, before he could respond. So he did, and walked into the bedroom, nude, feeling exposed and awkward, his erection shrinking. She stood at the side of the bed, still in her lingerie and heels. Sit down, sweetheart, she said. And he did. Here, I found these, baby. Put them on; it will feel so good. These are nylons, he said, using a tone of protest, but aware his erection was returning. Why, so they are, she said, with that smile again. You'll love how they feel. But, he said, already unable to formulate a logical response, his breaths shallow, embarrassed by his stiffening cock. See, she said. You want to. Your little one likes the idea. Still, he sat with the nylons in his hand. She moved closer, pushed his legs together, straddled him, cupped her hands on his face, brought her face to his, locked their eyes, spoke in that whisper of hers. Do it for me, baby. You want me to be happy don't you? She waited for a reply. Moved her hips forward a bit to press on his cock. Yes. Of course. You want to please me, don't you? Yes. Yes. Good, baby. I know you do. Now let me show you how a girl puts these on. She sat next to him. First, a girl sits on the edge of the bed, back arched a bit. She pushed in gently on the small of his back. That's it. Legs together. Good. Now, a girl carefully gathers the material like this, then unrolls from the toes up, gathering and pulling it taut as you go, bit by bit. Try it. She handed the nylons back to him. Slowly, she said. You're not a guy pulling his socks on. He felt the beginning of the delicious, skin tight, sheer sensation. It's like you're putting on a second skin, she said, although this one is much more sensual. That's it, all the way up your thigh. Don't rush, that's how a girl gets a run. Now feel it, run your hands on your leg. He did, and his cock grew. Now the other one, the same way. He made no protest; instead concentrated on putting it on as instructed. It was a pair of black thigh highs, with black lacing at the top, remarkably like the ones she was wearing. They reached very nicely to the top of his thighs. It didn't occur to him at the time that they fit him perfectly, yet he was a different size entirely. Stand up, she said. How cute! They are very girly on you, dear. And look, your little one likes it too. But we're missing something, don't you think? She was at the dresser. Pulled something else out, held it up. His eyes widened. Panties, he said. His cock was upright. He felt exposed, silly, humiliated, and totally aroused. Pink panties. They're perfect, don't you think? He was too awash in emotion, could make no response. Here, I want the honors, she said. She knelt. Lift up a leg, honey. That's it, and she slipped the panties over one foot, then the other, then up his nylons and carefully over his hard member. Her hand went over the front of the panties, rubbing slightly, so he could feel the satiny smoothness against his erection. The panties also fit nicely, snug against his hard member. She moved closer to him. Feel the satin on your cock, baby. So good. So feminine. So just right, don't you think? Don't resist, just let yourself go with the sensation. Now she was lifting a leg, rubbing her thigh against his panties, her hands gripping his ass, pulling at the cheeks, opening his rectum ever so slightly, kissing him urgently. You are so hot, baby, she said. He gripped her tightly in return, kissed back with the same urgency, moved his hips in response to her. Now here's my guess, she said. She clung to him, kept pressure on his cock, whispered hotly in his ear. You hardly complained about this, not at all about the panties, and you've been rock hard the whole time. It's clearly a turn on for you. That makes me think you've done this before. She was looking at him, locking him in her gaze. Sometime. Somewhere. And you loved it. She paused, looking at him. I'm right, aren't I? I can see it in your eyes, baby. Pamela, he said. Don't do this. We have to, baby. You have to. You want to. His eyes pleaded with her. Here. Let's make this better for you. Come with me. She took his hand, led him back to the bed. Lay down, she said. Relax. That's it. His erection tented under the panties. She lay down next to him. Now, she said. Close your eyes. Don't look at me, just look inside. Take a deep breath. Her hand softly kneaded his cock. She let a long moment pass. Then a soft whisper in his ear. Tell me your story, baby. You need to share it. This is an important step for you; I'll bet you've never told anyone before. He gave the slightest of nods, kept his eyes closed. The pressure on his cock increased slightly. She moved in closer, rubbing her nylons against his. Whispered again in his ear. Tell your story, baby. Tell it now. She waited. Gentle squeezes to keep the cock erect. Tongued his ear a bit. Long seconds passed. His lips parted. Closed. Parted again. Tell me, she said. I was maybe fourteen. Yes. Just having the explosive orgasms and wet dreams of adolescence. Yes. They were something, I'm sure. Amazing. Explosive. I masturbated a lot. It felt so good. Of course. But what about girls. Did you have girls in your life? I was shy, quiet, kind of geeky. Not part of the popular group. Not a jock. Yes. I know. He caught the I know. But she was kneading his cock, her leg rubbing against his. And, she said. I was alone in the house. It was summer, I think. My mom was out shopping. Yes. It was like a magnetic attraction. I didn't think about it. I just went right there, found myself there. Where? My parent's room. Her dresser. The drawer where she kept her lingerie. Yes. Yes. Good, baby. I pulled out a pair of nylons. He paused. It's all right, honey, she said. You're safe. You can tell me. I put them on. Of course you did. How did you feel? It was perfect. Wonderful. Exquisite. I felt, well, you know. Feminine. Yes. And? I put on a pair of her panties. Oh, how lovely. Your teenage cock in your mommy's panties. I'll bet it was rock hard. God, yes. I think I felt humiliated and excited at the same time, if that makes sense. I didn't know what was happening, really. Another pause. She played with his cock a bit. Moved her leg on his. Kissed him and tongued his mouth a little. Just a taste. There's more, isn't there? I was always captivated by a smell. A smell. Her perfume? No, although she wore Chanel. I like it. I think of her when I smell it. What smell then? Lipstick. Oh, my. Yes. Lipstick. I loved the smell. Especially when she had just put it on. Yes. Excellent. I was in their bathroom. I opened her lipstick. Smelled it. And applied it? Oh, yes, he said. His voice sounded far away. I did. Slowly. Then I pressed my lips together, just as she would. They were so red. I puckered and posed in the mirror a bit. I thought I looked a little cute, actually. Oh, honey. How perfect. Wait. She raised up on an elbow. All this time she had been lying next to him, one hand in a gentle cock massage, one nylon leg on his, mouth at his ear with sexy whispers. Stay where you are, baby. She sat up, straddling him at the groin, just below his cock. The movement caused him to stir, open his eyes quizzically. No, no, baby, she said. Keep your eyes closed. She leaned down to his ear again. Be a good girl. Stay in the moment. She rubbed her pussy on his cock, and he closed his eyes. It felt too good not to. She reached over, grabbed a makeup bag from the nightstand, pulled it next to her. Here we are. He heard the soft pop of a lipstick tube opening. Smell, she said. She held it to his nose. Oh, he said. How nice. Lipstick. Let the smell take you back, baby. So feminine, yes? Yes, oh yes, he said. Without realizing it, his lips parted a bit. That's it, she said. Hold still now. And his lips felt the soft caress of creamy lipstick. Pamela, he said, a note of urgency, concern in his voice. Don't, honey, she said. Stay there. You're at the mirror. It's your mommy's lipstick, baby. Let me finish. And he let her. There. Press them together now, just like you watched mommy do it. Yes, nice. Cute! Straddling him as she did, she could keep a hand on his cock or, when she leaned forward to apply the lipstick, her vulva would rub his erection. It was a perfect sensation, keeping him hard, aroused, on the edge. Now, just to complete the look a bit. More fishing in the bag. It didn't occur to him why she would have a makeup kit right at the side of the bed. First, a little foundation. Pamela. Again, the sound of concern. One eye opened. Honey, she said. Little baby. You know you want this. A finger on his face. Close your eye, sweetie. And he did. Maybe we're a little ahead of ourselves, she said. You're still in the bathroom, aren't you? Wearing your mommy's nylons and panties. Posing with her red lipstick. Being a cute little girl. Tell me, what did you do next? His lips pursed. A bit of a frown. She saw his eyes squeeze a bit. What? What happened? I heard the garage door open. Oh, dear. She was home. Much earlier than I thought. I'm so sorry. Scary but exciting at the same time, I'll bet. What did you do? Put the lipstick back. Grabbed some tissues, rubbed madly to get it off, ran back into my room as the back door opened. Pretended I was taking a nap. And you still had those nylons and panties on. Oh, yes. Let me guess. You rubbed your little one through those panties. Yes. Yes. God forgive me. I did. And you came in your mommy's panties, didn't you? It was a huge orgasm. I still remember it. I came and came. Of course you did, baby. And it was wonderful. Wonderful and humiliating. I was a fourteen year-old cumming in his mother's panties, for goodness sake. I was very confused. Even though it felt so good?and even more exciting to almost be caught?it was very guilt producing. I didn't know what it meant. Still don't, I think. Of course. You were so young. What happened next? When the coast was clear, went back to the bathroom and scrubbed the lipstick off. Scrubbed and scrubbed, terrified someone could tell. I put the stockings back in her lingerie drawer. But the panties were full of dried cum. I didn't know what to do, so I hid them. Sometime later I threw them away. I don't think she ever figured it out, but I always wondered. And? Did you wear her sexy things again? No. I went into denial, I guess. You know. As the shrinks would say, it was too scary to confront what all that might mean. Like many young boys, I was petrified that this might mean I was gay. Or, as we said then, a faggot, a homo. Scary for a teen boy. Then I matured a bit. Filled out. Became more confident in college, more outgoing. Got into girls. Or, better said, they noticed me. Met my wife. You know. The rest is pretty predictable. And you never dressed again. Until now. Yes. Except those thoughts have come back recently. You know, after you talked about my feminine features, I've looked at myself a little differently. It brought those memories back. And it feels so good, doesn't it, baby? To be a girl again. He was quiet, but didn't move. Didn't disagree. Didn't open his eyes. You can tell me, baby. It's OK. I want you to. This is making me very happy, and I know you want me to be happy. And I'm getting hot. Hot for you, sweetheart. More squeezes. Tell me you like this, you want to keep going. Yes. Yes. Yes, he said. Barely above a whisper. Oh, yes, Pamela. Please don't stop. You want to be a little girl. Yes. A little girl. Good, baby. Very good. That takes us back to the foundation, sweetie. Just a little, to smooth the skin, give you a softer look. This will look nice with your skin color. You always want to complement your own color. Use a gentle touch; you don't want the pancake makeup look. He felt a foundation compact softly brush his face. Something brought him back from his reverie. Maybe the feel of the compact on his face. The real world rushed in, competing for his senses. God, I'm lying in panties and nylons having makeup applied by my girlfriend. What am I doing? Pamela, he said. Haven't we taken this far enough? He opened his eyes. They looked confused, a bit scared. Maybe we've played this game long enough. He wanted so badly to be inside her, to fuck hard, to feel her push down and take him. She stiffened. Sat up. Moved back, away from his groin. Took her hand off his cock. Put the foundation down. Her voice suddenly was hard, unyielding. The sensual, conspiratorial whisper gone. It's not a game, baby, she said. You don't understand. This is real, and I'm doing this because you want me to, because this is what you need, what you desire. He was taken aback by the harsh tone. Could feel his sexual peak begin to decline, his erection soften. We can stop, baby, she said. You can get dressed and leave. If you do, though, you're not coming back. She paused for the effect. But, this need of yours. The desire to be a pretty little girl. It will come back. You can't keep it away. His cock kept softening. He wanted the feeling back, the high of sexual excitement. It was all so confusing. What was she saying? Why was she doing this? She was suddenly so firm, so demanding. He wanted so to please her. Didn't want her to be disappointed. Couldn't bear to think their affair might come to an end. She leaned down and put a hand on his chest, pressing down to hold him there. I don't want you to leave, baby. Understand that. But it's your choice. I just want to help you get where you already want to go. She let a moment pass. So, she said. Her voice was softer now, the little smile back. And... oh, yes, he thought... the hand went back to his cock. She leaned forward, gently squeezed. Her felt it stiffen again, quickly. You're choice. Stay with me. Stay in the moment. Or leave. No in between, baby. She waited. Squeezed. Smiled. Traced a finger on his chest, around his nipples. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Relaxed into the sensation. She saw all this, knew exactly what was coming. Another whisper. Stay, he said. Stay. Of course, baby. Of course you will stay. You're safe here. Safe with me. Safe with Pamela's love for the little girl in his mommy's panties. Go back, now. She spoke softly, gently. Go back to that moment in your mommy's panties. We're going to continue what that garage door interrupted. It's always been there; it hasn't gone away. Let's bring that little girl back. Hold still, she said. Keep those eyes closed. Let me finish the foundation; it always comes first. The lipstick last. It's the crowning, sensual, completely feminizing touch. It was just too tantalizing today not to use it first. He heard her sorting other makeup items. He should stop this, he thought. But, it was so exciting. He was so on edge. She was so incredibly sexy. He realized he was way past saying anything. God, he wanted this. Wanted her. A little eyebrow darkening. There. We'll take care of shaping later. Now hold still. Keep those eyes closed. A little eyeliner. He felt a point, like a pencil tip, tracing under his eyes. A little color to those eyelids, just a touch this time. And, stay still, your first mascara. Your eyes are a nice feature, dear. There's much more we can do with them. She paused. He pictured her looking, thinking of the next step to make him a girl, which is exactly what she was doing. Now, let's accent things a bit. A little blush. There. He felt soft, sensual touches along his cheeks. This rounds out your face a bit. And, let's brush your boy part out of that hair, make it a bit more femme. Let's see. Yes, she said. Not bad for a quick job. She sat back up; she had been leaning forward, letting her pussy press against his cock while she did him up. Open your eyes, baby. My little girl. You look so sweet. He did. Now, she said. The crowing touch. A refresher on the lips. I want you to see it this time. She held up the lipstick tube. Removed the cover. Here, smell. Ah, he said. So nice. Give me just a little pucker. Yes. Good girl. Here you are. He felt the smoothness, the creamy sensation, willingly offering his lips, wanting that feeling. Now. Watch. She took the same lipstick, and refreshed her lips. Slowly. Puckered for him. You see, she said, we're wearing the same shade. She reached for a tissue. We need to blot a little, dear. Just a little, softly. Like this. She kissed the tissue. Now you. Let's use the same tissue. He did, and she held up the tissue, with two matching lipstick kisses. How sweet, she said. So. She reached over to the makeup bag. Finally you get to look. Pulled out a compact mirror; just the kind a woman uses to check her lipstick and makeup, to primp a little. See what you think, sweetie. I think you make a pretty little girl. And he took the mirror. Moved his head side to side to see his profile. Puckered his lips. Then, aware she was watching, taking it all in, seeing him preening a bit, he looked at her, smiled shyly, shrugged a little. I do look feminine, don't I? Very, she said. You see it could even be better with a more careful application? Yes, he said. You would like that, wouldn't you? He looked again in the mirror. Another smile. Yes, he said. Yes, I would. I know, baby, she said. I know. Now you get the most special treat, honey. She leaned forward, cupped his face in her hands. Your first lipstick kiss, she whispered. Lipstick to lipstick. Girl to girl. And her lips were on his, softly at first. He felt the creamy touch, the smoothness. It felt intensely feminine. Then the kiss became more urgent, probing, her mouth opening, her tongue thrusting, now deep inside his mouth, her pussy on his cock. His eyes widened; he was so hard, so excited he thought he might explode right then. But, as though she knew exactly when to stop, it was over. She was sitting up. Just a taste, baby, she said. Not like other kisses, was it? There is nothing like two girls kissing passionately. He moved his hips against her hand, which had returned to his cock. He had been so close. It had felt so good. He reached to pull her toward him. He wanted to pull those panties down?and his?and let loose inside her. Now, now, sweetheart. Not so fast. She pulled his arms away. Your little one has been hard for a long time, I know. We do need to do something about that. And you have me excited, too. So. First, your arms go up here, above your head, just like when we were on the sofa. She pushed his arms down on the bed, above his head. Keep them there, she said. She saw the look in his eyes?questioning, frustrated. I know, she said. It's OK. Her voice softened. You'll see, baby. You'll love it. Watch. She lifted her hips, slid to the side, and pulled off her panties. And then she was back on top, straddling him, her bare pussy now on his satin panties, pressing against his hard cock. He thrusted again. Slow down, she said, her hand pushing him back. She reached up, unhooked her cami, pulled it over head, leaving a black, supple, sheer bra, her nipples visible. She smiled, moved her pussy just so on his cock, reached back, unfastened the bra, and let it drop on him. You like this, don't you? She placed the bra over his nipples. Maybe you would like one of these? We could have a matching cami and bra set. She played with her nipples. Her breasts were not large, but perfectly formed, just right for her slender frame. He watched her nipples harden. I asked you a question, baby. She moved again on his cock. You want a bra like that, don't you? Oh, God, Pamela, he said. He had no patience for questions. His cock was almost pulsing. Yes, yes, he said. There was urgency in his voice. He wanted to cum badly. She was working her nipples. They were hard, plump, protuberant. Her eyes had a hungry look. Tell me again, baby. She was moving more urgently on his cock. Tell me you want to wear a bra. Yes, yes. I want to wear a bra. More, she said. Ask me. Ask me to let you wear a bra. Please, Pamela. Please let me wear a bra. He was past the ability to protest. And tell me you want to be my pretty girl, baby. His eyes widened. She moved on his cock, back and forth. Took the bra off his chest. Started rubbing his nipples. Tell me. It was a command. His look told her he would say anything now. Yes, yes, yes. I want to be your pretty girl. She was down on him now, her nipples rubbing his, sliding across his chest, her pussy working his satin-encased cock. Ask me, baby. Beg me. Now, she said. Her tongue now on his lips. Please. Yes, please. Let me be your pretty girl. She looked at him, raised an eyebrow, a question in her eyes. God, Pamela. I'm begging you. Let me be your pretty girl. Make me your pretty girl. His voice sounded plaintive, urgent. He tried to move his hips against hers. She kissed him. Hard. Very good, baby, she said. My little girl. She moved a leg over his, forcing his apart. Spread your legs, baby. His arms moved, almost unable to control the desire. She reached, grabbed his arms, pushed them back down and above his head. Her other leg moved inside his. Spread your legs, she said. Like a girl, baby. And he did. Now she was on him, her pussy moving over his cock, her arms holding his, her nipples rubbing his chest. Make girly love to me, baby. Be my pretty girl. She was rubbing her pussy on the satin panties, kissing him, tonguing him, thrusting deep into his mouth. Move with me, baby. Yes, yes. Let me feel you. He was thrusting against her pussy. Pamela. His voice was urgent, pleading. I'll come, Pamela. Let me inside you. She paused only a moment. I want you to cum, baby. Now. In your panties. Be my girl, baby. Another kiss. Deep, probing, thrusting. She was pressing hard, holding him down, moving her pussy. He understood. She wasn't stopping. She wanted lesbian love. Her vulva was rubbing wildly, her lips locked on his. Now one leg moved over his hip. She was riding his thigh, one leg on his cock, moving ever more quickly on his erection, insistently. If he had time in that moment of desire to reflect, he knew on some level it felt right to let go, to be submissive, to spread his legs, to let her take him. He had surrendered? to her control, to her on top, to her demand to dominate--although none of those thoughts mattered in the urgency of the moment; he simply had to come. The need was immediate, intense, his body begging for the release. He thrusted and moved and fucked his cock against her, focused only on an orgasm building by the second. Yes, she said, her eyes locked on his. Fuck me in your panties. Cum in your panties, baby. God oh God oh God. I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, he said. He felt his precum dribbling, his body tensing, his back arching, thrusting madly on her thigh, the climax building, his cock tensing, the exquisite moment of the first spasm, the incredible high of a building orgasm. Oh God oh God oh God. His cock spasmed again and again and again, sperm erupting, the feeling of release so powerful, so strong. He wanted it never to end. Pamela never stopped moving, grinding. She used his orgasm to build higher, moving with abandon across his legs, his body, locking her lips on his, thrusting her tongue, working to her own high, his cock letting smaller spasms loose as she moved. He responded to her movements, wanting her to come, wanting her to like it, to like him, to like making love to him. This way. And then he felt her body tensing, her movements more involuntary, her hips clenching, her head raising, her mouth parting. Soft feminine sounds of pleasure. Her body twitched, her movements slowed. Yes, oh yes. She exhaled, looked at him. Oh baby, she said. They lay together for some moments, silent, slowly descending from their sexual peak, his penis now fully flaccid. My little one, he thought, adopting her phrase. Her breathing slowed. She relaxed her grip on his arms, and he embraced her. Wasn't that nice, she said. Oh, yes, he said. Was it like the time in your Mommy's panties? Better, he said. Yes. Perfect. She lay on top, his legs open. He was conscious of the position; he was the woman, pinned by her lover, at her lover's mercy. And aware, even embarrassed, of the wetness in his groin and panties. He moved a bit to ease the pressure on his member, now soft and tender, and felt the creamy liquid squeeze and spread. You made a mess in your panties, baby. Yes, he said. He knew that, as the male, his sperm should be deep inside her now. Instead, he was lying with cum spreading throughout a pair of satin panties, legs apart, having fully submitted to Pamela's desires. And his? He knew he did not regret what just happened. I'll show you how to clean them up shortly, so they will be all clean and sexy for you next time. There it was again. Next time. She kept making those little allusions. Now that he was spent, his orgiastic high gone, his libido depleted, his penis shriveled and tender, he was becoming painfully aware of his status. Stockings and panties. Makeup. She put it on, right? God, it must still be there. Legs apart. Sticky cum all over. She had practically masturbated him with her pussy and legs. Called him her little girl. Used him for her own orgasm. Time to clean up and go, he thought. Leave this scene behind. He began to shift his weight, moving as though to ease out from under. Pamela, he said. His voice more firm now, the sexual need gone. She immediately moved to stay on top. Shh, she said. Put her finger to his lips. Don't. And he stopped. Listen to me. I know I kept you right there, almost at the summit, for a long time?it's so fun to do that?so when the climax came for you it was huge. You came for a long time, and you clearly let loose quite a load. She moved her groin in the sticky, moist goo. And then you went crashing down from the mountaintop. I understand. The end of the testosterone high leaves you all spent and empty. But think about what just happened. What we did. You loved it. Begged me to continue. You let me take you back to that day in your mommy's clothes, wearing her panties and lipstick. You let me make you into a pretty little girl. Let me pin you down. Surrendered to me. And had a humongous orgasm. In what? Pink satin panties. That's what you came in, sweetie. Pink satin panties. Your cum is all squishy in them right now. Yes, he said. But it was a scene, sexy play, right? You were into it too. Yes, I was and am into it. But, no. Not play, baby. It's real. Think about it. You're stronger than me, right? You're the guy? Supposed to be in charge? At any time you could have said I'm out of here. I couldn't have stopped you, even if I tried. But you let me take control, let me pin you down. It's not because I'm stronger. She leaned down, and whispered this in his ear. It's because you let me. Because, deep down, this is what you want. Desire. Need. Want more of. She sat up. Do you think an alpha male would have let this happen? Of course not. Made into a little sissy girl? No way. Even a normal straight guy wouldn't have let this go where it did. It's not a scene. It's who you are, baby. You just haven't fully accepted it yet. Look at you. You're all made up, still my little girl. You'll see when you look in the mirror again. You'll be back for more. You will want more. You will intensely desire more. You will beg for more, my little sissy girl. He felt a twinge of excitement in his cock, even though it lay spent. There were silent for a moment. He didn't move. He wondered if she had felt his member respond. But, he said. Tried to formulate the words. You're so certain. Like you knew all along. I know I said things when I was all hard and aroused. But how do you know I agreed to all this? He corrected himself. Or may agree, I mean. She smiled. Sat up more, straddled him. Shook her hair, ran her fingers through it. Wet cum glistened on her groin. What you don't understand yet, baby, is that a door opened for you a long time ago. It opened that first time in the office when I gave you the look. She saw a question in his eyes. You don't think this just happened, do you? I watched you very carefully. Your style, your mannerisms, your total lack of alpha male characteristics, the way you cross your legs, use your hands, carry yourself, care for your appearance, relate better to the women in the office than the men, are attentive to feelings. She paused. Your body type. Your delicate features. After a while it was clear you would make a very nice girl; that down deep this is what you wanted; that you are a girl, and all you needed was a little help. I know, baby. I collect sissies like you. I just haven't had one in a while. But, he said. Shook his head in disbelief. Sweetie. Look at you. All girlie, and covered in cum. She pressed down on the wet panties, on his soft member, which immediately started to respond. See, she said. You practically came in buckets. And now I call you a girl and touch your tiny one and it responds. This was going to happen, baby. The boy in his mommy's panties. Putting on her lipstick. Posing in the mirror. Getting all hot. Having that exquisite teenage orgasm. That girly boy was going to bubble back to the surface. It was only a matter of time. I just did you the favor of fast forwarding things a bit. But, he said again. Where in all this did I agree? She saw he wasn't fighting it now. Just confused. Oh. We're back to when I gave you the look, sweetie . Right then. A door opened for you that moment. Another guy?content with his life and his relationships?might have smiled and turned away. Or given me the alpha male leer, saying with his eyes he would be happy to fuck me. And sometimes that's fine with me, of course. But that's not what I was looking for, from you. And there you were. Frozen in your tracks. Gave me that hungry, puppy dog look. Needy. A deer caught in headlights. Just what I thought I would get. That's when I knew. All I had to do was open the door. It was your choice; you walked right through. Do you know why, baby? Why you walked through the door? Because you know on a deep, intense, emotional level I have what you want. What you crave. What you will beg me for. And what do you think that is? Power, she said, responding to her own question. She knew he was past responding. That she had him. Control. Domination. Female over male. Submission. Feminization. Male becoming female. She leaned forward. Traced a finger gently on his face. On his red lips. You're mine now, sissy girl. You can relax. Let go. It's all over. You have nothing to be afraid of. A new, better life is beginning. I'm going to take you everywhere you want to go. And more. She kissed him. No longer a hungry kiss. Soft, gentle, loving. And he kissed back. Now let me show you how to clean your panties, sweetie. You will beg me to wear them again.