Queer Women Masturbate More Than Straight Women O
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The Queer Party free porn video
New tale
I caught the Ryanair flight to Sassari, comfortably, with time to spare
and only my hand luggage.
It was my first trip abroad alone and I was n't certain just how intense
the airport baggage search might be so I had carefully selected what was
in my bag so that there would be nothing odd that would show up on the
airport scanner, I knew that the metal clips of a bra would stand out as
would any metal make-up tubes: a male operator might not spot them but a
woman certainly would. So in had gone my favourite frosted blonde wig,
silk dress, panties and tights; I'd buy a bra when I arrived. I had
carefully placed my breast forms back to back upright so that they did
not scream what they were to the scan operator and I was wearing my false
vagina as a search that intimate was pretty unlikely and I wanted to keep
my baggage below the weight limit. This was for fun and I was n't going
to pay their ridiculous prices for a few extra kilos
My plans were to go to the famed Queer Party which happened every October
which I'd learnt about from overhearing a mobile phone conversation about
it on the train one evening, it's really amazing what people talk about.
Anyway I had done a bit of research on the internet and the more I read
the better it seemed and I decided that as nobody would know or recognise
me it was not a chance to miss, so I'd planned the weekend away just for
me or really for her.
I had got my self really worked up worrying about discovery in such a
public place as an airport, but there was no problem going through the
body scanner and my bag passed without a hitch. Presumably because of
the time of year the plane was only half full and most of the passengers
were Italian, the one sitting next to me was reading a local newspaper
which was full of lurid pictures of riots, wrecked cars and pretty girls
draped around various be-suited men. The flight was smooth and going
through customs at arrival was simple and the airport shuttle bus was
waiting outside; everything went like clockwork and I knew that I was
going to have a great time.
Fortunately the small hotel I had already booked was quite close to the
Queer Party venue so that I should not have to walk far coming back, as I
expected a long night of dancing and partying ahead of me.
It was still early in the afternoon so after a leisurely shower and a
full shave, I made for the main shopping area and surprisingly quickly
found a lingerie shop; Italian underwear is to die for and though sorely
tempted by what was on offer, focussed on a pink bra with black lace
edging. Not bothering what the sales assistant might think, as I'd never
see her again, I handed over the correct money, and wandered back to my
hotel.
There I spread the contents of my bag over the bed to check that
everything that I need was there, as I now had a couple of hours to get
ready. To save making a mess I stripped completely. I just had to give in
and put my new bra on first; I had never been able to do the clips up
behind me and could n't now, so from the front I swivelled it round and
then popped in my forms which gave me an instant buzz, though it made me
really regret not buying the matching panties, but hey ho. I had read
dozens of articles about how 80% of women wore the wrong sized bra, that
I just could n't understand, as the pleasure of having a firm band snugly
about my chest enveloping my forms lifted by the shoulder straps, was
magical. I was immediately beginning to feel feminine and applied my
foundation first of all and then started to dress in my girl clothes:
well, undies and tights only: I did n't want to mess up my dress. There
is always something sensuous about the gentle pressure that tights and
undergarments make on the body, quite separate from the almost electric
feel of nylon rubbing on nylon: almost like being subtly reshaped in a
smaller feminine body. I spent a while just getting my eyes right,
carefully outlining my brows, three shades of shadow, long lashes and
liner with some gentle smudging. Lips took a while to get the ideal
cupid's bow shape which I then topped up with red gloss followed by cheek
blush almost to my ears and then upwards. Then after stepping into the
dress and zipping it up it was just a second or two to get into my shoes
before sitting down to fit my wig. As I might be dancing I made it extra
secure with a few dabs of adhesive, then carefully brushed it into style,
and finished off it all with a necklace. Naturally I had to spend a while
admiring myself in the full length mirror, though I was also beginning to
slowly worry about the whole escapade, was I wise going out in public in
a country whose language I could n't speak, would I fit in, how
sympathetic was the local population? As I worried, I automatically
smoothed the dress, checked that the bra straps were not showing and that
my panties were not revealing the famous line, I slid easily into the
feminine mind set about such things, was everything quite so? I made a
couple of circuits of the room and pouted at my reflection in the mirror,
hands on hips, shook my head to make my hair fly and my earrings swing;
that was wonderful I thought; every inch a pretty girl
Anyway time was running on, so I popped my makeup into my small bag just
in case things might need freshening up, along with my purse, and walked
down the stairs, rather pleased at the way my dress hem flounced up with
each forward step, out through the lobby, dropping my key on the front
desk to the street outside.
The evening was surprisingly warm and I took my time to walk, thrilling
to the touch of my silk dress across my legs and listening to the clack
of my heels on the pavement, the sound echoing back from the buildings as
I passed. Every so often I stopped to look in the shops and so admire
myself in their windows, giving my hair a quick flick in the reflection.
As I passed I noticed that the Queer Party was well promoted with
colourful posters pasted on several walls, so it would be definitely
living up to its reputation.
There was only a little traffic so I turned to cross the road and stood
for a moment or two and was vaguely aware of somebody else almost
alongside me at the curb, when a black Fiat van stopped by me and the
driver leant across to speak to me through the window. I could n't hear
and did n't know what he was saying anyway, suddenly I was grabbed from
behind and thrown into the back and the doors slammed shut. It was
frighteningly smoothly done, as though they were a well practised team.
I stumbled and ended up on the floor in a mental daze, I could n't shout
and give myself away, so I tried banging on the sides, but the van was
swinging about which made it difficult. It had no windows and was
completely dark inside, so I gave up after a while and just sat in the
gloom worried stiff that I was into something pretty nasty. Could they be
police or worse some local hoods?
After what seemed hours the van slowed down, stopped briefly, then sped
on for a few minutes, before finally stopping with a jerk. The rear doors
were flung open revealing the walls of a tunnel, I stumbled out my legs
were numb as I had been sitting on them and it was n't helped by my high
heels. Somebody grabbed my arms and I was half dragged through a side
arch and up a sloping passage, I had to part trot to stop falling over.
At the end of the passage I was pushed through a door into a brightly lit
office.
In front of me was a striking woman, tall and slim, immaculately turned
out in a black uniform jacket, riding breeches with a broad red stripe
complete with patent high boots and belt. Her shoulder flashes showed her
to be a capitano of the carabinieri. She spoke in fluent but heavily
accented English "You have been arrested as part of the state plan to
clear the streets of prostitutes and hookers. I am in charge of the
Prime Minister's security here and also the guardian of all women staff.
So far as they are concerned I expect total obedience and impeccable
behaviour, any deviation will be punished without sympathy or mercy.
Have I made myself clear? I tried to protest but she dismissed me with a
wave of her hand. "Francesca here will look after you" " Ecco, lei ?
quaranta dimensioni"
If the captain was tall and elegant; Franscesca was squat and butch, with
cropped hair and ridiculously bushy eyebrows and dressed in a grey
uniform jacket from which her tattooed arms projected over very floppy
trousers. She grasped my arm with a powerful grip: her fingers crushing
my arm painfully and propelled me out of the room as though I was a
feather. Half dragging me for a mercifully short distance along a
corridor we reached a steel door, which she opened with a large key from
a bunch around her waist. Inside were rows of shelves, stacked with
identical cardboard boxes, she scanned the lot and pulled down one
labelled 40 which she thrust into my arms before pushing me down the
corridor past even more doors until she thrust one open and me through
it.. The sparsely decorated room had no windows and just a small bunk, a
chair, wash basin and wc. "Mettere su questi" she grunted as she took the
box from me and pointed at it and then me, before putting it on the bed.
Next she grabbed my left arm and produced a metal strap which looked a
bit like a watch and squeezed its ends together tightly with a loud
click; then with a surprisingly swift movement left the room, locking the
door behind her.
I sat on the bed my mind in a whirl, rubbing my bruised arm which was
throbbing deeply; it was clear that I was entrapped by a well organised
team and for now there did n't seem any way of escaping. I'd just have to
go along with what they wanted until I knew more about the place and what
was going on. I examined the metal strap which had a small block where a
watch might be, but nothing else except the faintest of vibrations seemed
to pulse against my skin
The box contained what seemed to be a mass of shimmering pale blue gauze.
Pulling it all out I found much more; on the top was a pair of whispy
trousers, then a long sleeved blouse, then a scarf and underneath that
was a blouse and then a jacket outlined with dark blue sequins. Tucked
away next was a deep blue bra and panties to match, both with intricate
curving designs in a golden thread. Once it was all out on the bed there
was still another box left within it and inside that was a pair of golden
sandals with curved up toes and a mass of golden bangles and a pair of
huge circular earrings. I laid the whole lot out on the bed: it looked
like some sort of fancy dress, but I had no doubt that if I was to find
anyway of escaping and especially not to annoy the guardian for the
present, that I'd have to wear it. From the way she had behaved so far
it did not take much imagination to know that if my true sex was revealed
something pretty unpleasant would happen.
So off came everything ~ well except my private part's cover, and on went
the panties and bra. However unpleasant the guardian had been she
certainly knew her sizes and they both fitted perfectly; well they did
once I had swapped the forms over. Next went the blouse; its sleeves were
very wide and so were the legs of the trousers, so that they gave the
appearance of a blue haze through which my panties and bra showed
clearly. I decided that the bangles should go on next, which was a
mistake as when I tried to put on the jacket they got caught up and I
realised that putting on the sandals was going to be difficult too. The
flowing bottoms of the trousers kept getting in the way of doing up their
buckles and so did the ankle bangles but finally it was done. I stood up
and tried putting on the jacket again and shook my arms to make the
bangles settle, finally I managed to get the clips of the hooped earrings
correctly attached.
I had n't noticed earlier that there was a mirror on the back of the
door, and throughout everything I had hung onto my bag, something any
girl would do. Even though I had been manhandled into the van and
afterwards, my make up did not need much fixing to restore it, a quick
slide of lip stick and a brush of my hair restored me, well visually if
not mentally. I stood back to get a better look and then I spotted the
CCTV camera above the door positioned to cover exactly where I was
standing; how lucky I was earlier that by chance I changed my undies with
my back towards the camera.
As I stood, I realised that the odd background noise I had vaguely been
aware of, was someone sobbing next door. At least I was not alone, well
I was n't:~ someone had obviously been watching me on the video as the
door suddenly opened and in stepped an Asian girl dressed identically to
me, actually not entirely identical I realised: her bra and panties were
gold with blue threads. Outside a bell was ringing and I could hear the
sound of doors opening and running feet. She just said 'Venire' and we
joined the cluster of identically dressed girls running down the passage,
without giving me a chance to say anything.
The crowd of us swept into a vast room, lined with wall to ceiling
mirrors, lit by rows of crystal chandeliers throwing their sparkling
light onto a massive central table, which had crystal candle sticks
alight down its full length. All along one side was a marble topped
sideboard covered with dishes of food. The crowd of girls moved like a
flight of pale blue birds and quickly positioned themselves in front of
the dishes, each clearly knowing her role, those at the far end picking
up the dishes and turning inwards to the room, they looked liked a
trained group of chorus girls, but had not uttered a word. The Asian girl
pushed me at the very end, opposite a bowl of fruit and left me to stand
next to a diminutive red haired girl who was anxiously eyeing a large
gold coffee pot simmering on a hot plate. I signed to swap places as it
was obviously too much for her to lift, quickly we moved and she smiled
her thanks, when suddenly her expression changed to alarm. A stinging
pain across the back of my legs explained that; the Asian girl had lashed
them with a thin whip, which felt as though it had cut right through the
diaphanous gauze of my trousers. Looking into the mirror right in front
of me I could see her raising her arm to lash again, but suddenly at the
far end of the room a stout middle aged man entered accompanied by the
carabinieri captain. She held his chair for him to sit, and like
clockwork the ten or so girls farthest from me began to take their dishes
to him. It stopped the Asian girl in her tracks.
Whilst he ate, various men came and went after whispering to him
deferentially, whatever they were saying was n't pleasing by his
expression which got steadily worse, but it did not seem to affect his
appetite. We all waited for a long time as he dined, which gave me plenty
of time to think about me and quite what I was going to do about
escaping: nothing was practical at the moment, well not until I had found
out a lot more about where I was and what he was. It had dawned on me
that the man must be very senior and important and that we girls were in
effect all members of his harem, then it clicked; he must be the Italian
minister that the rest of the world had been talking about: the
multimillionaire who had managed to avoid being arrested for years for
sex crimes and the phrase bunga bunga came to mind. The ripple of girls
serving worked its way along the row until it reached me, so I picked up
the coffee pot, as I did so my new friend touched me and put her fingers
to her lips them patted my bottom. I did my best to shimmy up to the head
of the table and waited for a sign to pour the coffee, as I leant forward
I felt a hand wandering over my panties, I was n't having any hanky panky
so I deliberately missed the cup and poured hot coffee all over the
table. The Asian girl screamed at me and lashed again, but the captain
intervened before the next stroke arrived, at which the man took a long
look at me, then turned to them both and muttered something that I could
not grasp or understand.
Whatever was said, the Asian girl's behaviour changed completely, she
gushed and simpered at the man : the two faced little bitch obviously
knew how to play the market and taking my arm, to my total surprise, lead
me away from the table and out through the wide doors at the other end of
the room.
We passed on though another huge room full of cream coloured leather
banquettes, one wall of which was one huge window with a spectacular view
out over white cliff tops and the deep blue sea sparkling beyond. It was
spoilt sadly by a couple of armed carabinieri standing in the distance by
some bushes. Anyway clearly she knew where she was going as she led me
out through a row of arched doorways into another big room. This had
pastel blue as its motif, matching our blouse and trouser outfits,
presumably his favourite combination; certainly the massive central bed
had similar coloured silk drapes and covers. This was our destination.
She led me to one side of the bed, and then left me to position herself
at the other, motioning me to stay still. That was not easy as my mind
had taken off with frightening worries about what was likely to be going
to happen shortly. My simple dream of going to a drag party had become a
complete nightmare: if my fears were correct I was destined to share the
great man's bed in company with my new colleague. It would need an
incredible amount of luck and considerable lack of skill on his part for
me to continue in my guise for very much longer. As he was without doubt
very important and equally, by all appearances and reports had insatiable
desires, my deflowering would be highly dramatic and the loss of face on
his part would be unforgiveable in the extreme. I had ample time to run
through every aspect of the situation as we stood waiting and waiting for
something to happen. Would he hit me in wild fury or call his guards,
what would they do and what would my colleague do? Now that was probably
the worst scenario of all, I had experienced enough of her vile temper to
make an informed guess at her reaction. I glanced across at her, she
grimaced and pointed to her wrist, I was quite happy that we were still
just standing, but she was less enthusiastic, probably previous sessions
had done little for her, well I did really hope so. It was only then that
I noticed with curiosity that she too had a metal strap on her left wrist
just like mine and it dawned on me that they must be some sort of
identity or security device.
After an eternity the sound of raised voices in the antechamber warned us
and in came the minister, clearly the worse for drink: he lurched towards
us and Miss Asia rushed to support him. It began to look as though things
might be better than I had dreaded, so I quickly took his other side and
we guided him to the bed, where he grabbed us both as he collapsed onto
it. I had n't expected the bed to be so deep, we seemed to sink into a
billowing mass of swan's down and we both ended up on top of him, well
being heavier, I did, with her on top of me. How he managed to get his
arms around my waist so quickly I don't know, anyway his fingers ran
clumsily down my backside before digging in and pulling me close to him.
This is it, I thought: the final exposure and humiliation, but suddenly
having shown no signs of sisterly love, I could feel Miss Asia working at
his hands until she wrenched them apart and somehow managed to push me
aside. We both came up for air and managed to roll away from him, he
floundered about with his arms trying to reach one or the other of us but
then collapsed deep down amongst the bed covers.
It was then that Miss Asia completely amazed me because she pulled out
one of the pillows and pushed it hard down on the minister's face,
leaning with all her might, but it was n't enough because he began to
force himself up. She gave me a penetrating, almost despairing, stare and
a nod in his direction and said something in a heavily accented Italian
that I could not understand; I was torn, she had been a perfect bitch to
me as my legs still showed, yet she seemed to have a plan, which might,
just might, help me escape from my predicament. I had got away with non
consensual sex as the lawyers say and all the possible traumas of being
unveiled by a powerful and definitely sex crazed politician and so far my
secret seemed to be secure. What the hell; I'll go for it I thought and
added my weight to the pillow. We leant together and he struggled for
what seemed an age, but at last all was still and we straightened up, but
lifting off the pillow I could see that though he was a rich purple
colour; he was actually still breathing. Already Miss Asia had managed
to open the huge picture window and had run out and grabbed one of the
carabinieri guards, dragging him into the room. He took one look at the
bed and called his mate to come, before using his mobile phone presumably
to summon assistance. They both grabbed the inert body by its legs and
dragged it from the bed onto the floor and tried mouth to mouth
resuscitation, I then suddenly realised that Miss Asia had gone, so not
wishing to be left alone with yet another major problem I too slid
through the open window into the garden beyond whilst the guards were
usefully occupied.
Nothing is ever simple is it? As I stepped out an alarm bell began to
ring and I realised that the strap on my wrist must have triggered it
off, but hoped that once I was far enough away it would no longer work,
so pulling off my sandals I ran and ran towards the sea and yes the noise
stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of many running feet and much
shouting. The whole place was suddenly flood lit, but I was now past the
ring of bushes and in the shadows, so I could look back safely to see a
group of carabinieri clustered about a pale blue figure who was screaming
her head off and lashing out with her feet and fists: yes, it was my
beloved Miss Asia giving one of her best displays of unpleasantness. Well
rather them than me I thought, as I ran even faster towards the sea, but
I then realised why there were such things as sports bras, so had to slow
down a bit as things were swinging about a lot and it was n't just my
earrings.
What's more all the excitement had got the better of me and I just had to
pee: particularly as I had n't had time at all since being captured. An
illogical shyness made me hide behind a bush to do it, especially silly
as it was, after all, very dark, but how very lucky I was as suddenly a
truck drove past me at full speed along a wide road right across my
front, with its head lights on full beam. I realised that I was even
luckier because at the rate that I'd been running I'd have stumbled
straight off the bank and landed on the road surface and probably ended
up in a heap, as it was I quickly crossed over. Then I stopped to get my
breath back and rearrange my bra, with all that weight inside the cups
why does the band always work upwards? And damn those bangles.
Now what was my plan, I asked myself? Clearly I had n't one: I was just
getting away and running to the cliff edge probably was n't that clever.
It was going to be a lot easier to keep to the road in the dark and I'd
be able to spot anybody else as they'd have a torch, so I decided to aim
from the direction that the truck had come from as it was unlikely
another would follow soon, at least that's what I hoped. So back on went
the sandals, flimsy but less painful than road grit on bare feet and I
could trot quite safely, without setting things a'swinging again. I had
left the buildings and their lights well behind, but ahead there was now
a gleam low down at the side of the road, which as I approached turned
out to be from a small hut. By climbing up the bank I could get quite
close and keep out of the light. From there I could just see that there
was a high wire fence stretching into the night with a barrier across the
road and from the hut was the hiss and crackle of radio voices. I
squatted for a while trying to decide what to do; there was no movement
within the hut, but that did not mean that it was empty. Should I throw a
stone onto the road to find out, no that was n't really a bright idea?
Instead I crept closer to its rear to see if I could hear anything, and
as I did so I put a foot into a mass of metal tubing lying in the bushes
and almost fell. Reaching down and feeling about I realised that it was
a bicycle obviously abandoned judging by the weeds growing through it.
Very carefully I pulled them away and it certainly had a chain, handle
bars and a saddle, so I pulled it upright and tried giving it a push: it
let out a long creak, so my heart leapt. Nothing happened from the hut so
I slowly pushed it through the bushes towards the barrier, which was
faintly illuminated by the light from the hut. The tyres were pretty flat
making it quite hard work, but I took a chance and ducked under the
barrier pole, giving the bike a push ahead of me. Once I was back in the
dark on the other side I managed to get onto the bike and freewheeled off
down the road for quite a distance before I had to pedal, I then
discovered how uncomfortable the saddle was, it seemed to focus right
between my legs, still I should be thankful that I was n't wearing the
dress I had started the evening with. I pedalled up a hill and almost as
I reached the top, I saw the head lights of a lorry coming up the other
side: as it raced towards me I rode up the bank into long grass just in
time and threw myself down, doing no good to my gossamer blouse and
pantaloons. Giving it a few moments to clear I quickly cycled on, hoping
that I had not been noticed, there would not be any doubt that I was an
escapee dressed as I was.
It felt as though I had been pedalling the creaky machine for hours and
the sky was lightening slowly in the east behind me, when I came to a
sign post; Sassari was off to the right only 3 kilometres. Finally I
arrived at the outskirts, with its street lights drawing me on to the
centre. The city was awakening; the odd car passed me and a couple even
tooted their horns which made me realise that I must be a very odd
spectacle even for Sardinia, so I rode up a small alley and left the bike
there. It was a relief to get off that dammed saddle though it left me
walking as though I had the curse; but no matter, I recognised the street
which my hotel was in and traipsed to its entrance.
What luck, somehow my choice of hotel was shared with other 'girls' as
there was a cluster of weary revellers obviously from the Queer Party,
dressed in wonderful ball gowns in the foyer claiming their room keys
from a bored bell hop. It was a golden opportunity: "Trente due"; I
grasped the key and joined the throng at the lift, they were all too
tired to chat, though I had several odd looks, not surprisingly.
Pausing only to hang the 'Non disturbare' label on the door knob I
collapsed onto the bed. Hours later I awoke and realised that it was mid
afternoon and I had only a few hours before my flight home. Changing into
my boy clothes tested every aching joint in my body and the distress of
packing my torn gossamer top and trousers in stead of my lovely silk
dress and the special bra was only just balanced by my relief at being
free again. The quicker I was on the plane home the better; it really had
been a disaster of a week-end. Well almost: at the airport whilst
standing in the slow moving boarding queue we all watched a televised
news programme ~ 'my' minister had been arrested and a crowd of blue
clothed harem girls were being shepherded onto a military bus to be
followed by Miss Asia in handcuffs locked securely to Franscesca. If only
those around me knew.
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