Notebooks On Girl-Making - Part 3 free porn video

Notebooks on Girl-Making by Salomeee Notebook I: Close encounter Chapter 3 Boston was a different city when I got back. Indeed the world was different. It was like I had reborn in a different era. Everything was transformed, of course, by my own inner change. It took a few days for me to realise what was actually happening. Maybe it took even longer for me to stop fretting I'd wake up and find out everything was a wild fantasy. But I finally convinced myself it was not. This was real. Perhaps the bad dream had actually been the last few years after puberty. Over those first few days I kept wearing only the most ambiguous clothes I had: skinny jeans, tight t-shirts, colorful sneakers and I started letting my -still rather short- hair grow and look wilder. The obvious effect was the eventual confusion of random people on the street calling me Miss became more frequent. But now it didn't bothered me anymore. Indeed, it made me feel better. Then, one day, I take "a small step for a flimsy boy, a giant leap for a cute sissy": I entered a lingerie shop and purchased a few panties. I was sweating heavily when I got to the check-out counter, but the lady didn't even look at me. I went out to the streets with the little floral paper bag in my hand and I walked in a daze, feeling happy and courageous. Once at home I started modeling the panties in front of my mirror, tucking my dick between my legs, looking as flat as I could. I felt a definitive thrill and then I dared to call Harry for the first time after almost a week. "How was my little girl doing?," he answered right away, surprising me. Of course he should have seen my name in his cell phone. "I'm fine, but I miss you..." I told him sincerely. I had been planning on playing cool with him and not letting him take control so quickly, but the sound of his voice turned me again into a submissive and silly teenage girl. I could not control myself at all. "I just bought some new panties I think you will like," I confessed without him even asking. "That's nice, bunny. I want my baby girl even girlier next time," he teased. "Next time? When?" I asked enthusiastically. He told me again we could meet almost any Thursday I wanted, as he used to go to the City of Vancouver to meet the editors of his column. Beside the small local newspaper he worked for, he authored a popular Economy column which several newspapers around the world syndicated. And while he liked his small town, he used to pay a weekly visit to their global agents as well as handling other chores he couldn't attend from town. We had talked about that. He was completely honest about his wife and never even suggested a problem between them. Knowing him, I thought he could have been an arab Sheik and satisfy a dozen wives, as his sexual stamina seemed infinite. But in turn he didn't seem inclined to let her wife know about me (or the potential long list of other lovers I was afraid of), and he had made very clear that we could see each other again only if we met at Vancouver. Now he was suggesting that he wanted me to go! "Really? You want to see me again?" I asked him with my most sensual voice, trying to tease him. Just impossible... "Hmmm... I do, but I think you are the one who needs something from me, actually. Come on; tell me what you want. Now," he commanded. I mumbled that I wanted to see him and talk to him, but he pressed me with his strong voice. I could feel the tingling inside my panties and something stiffening down there, and I confessed I needed him to make love to me again. "Love? You don't know if you love me -at all. Tell me what is that you really want, girl. Tell me exactly. You know the level of detail I want," he commanded again. And I sheepishly replied, while I felt my penis swell in the tight confinement of my thong "...I want you to fuck my... pussy... And I want to suck your cock. I do know for sure I love your cock, and your strong arms around me..." "You better take your hands aways from your clit, girl," he told me. I shivered and get both hands to the phone. How could he know? "And you still owe me a name, babe. I told you I can't call you Charly anymore. It is not the girly name I want. And I won't choose it for you," he reminded me. I had indeed thought about some names, but Strauss was playing in the background and I just told him to call me "Salome," like this opera I loved. "Well, then. Nice to meet you Salome. Now get your hands busy on something important: get some paper and pen and I will give you some conditions if you want to get in bed with me again," he instructed, and of course I robotically jumped and grabbed them, ready to take note. "By now you already know I don't especially like cute boys as you thought," he started. "I saw you as a cute girl in disguise since we met. I knew your lips were made to suck cock, and I knew this round ass of yours had a great promise. But you have plenty to improve if you want me to fill your sissy womb with semen again. Understood?". Blushing even while I was alone, I nodded and started writing down. "You are, my pretty Salome, quite hairless, but a real lady should have no hair at all except over her scalp. I specially want your asshole to be spotless. You know I want to be able to eat my dessert from it. And I may do it some day, indeed," I turned crimson at that and then I sat down, feeling completely ashamed and turned on by his comments. He went on: "And you have much to learn about makeup. Remember I want a girl, not a drag queen. Learn to make your nice teenage face up without overdoing it. And you know how much I love heels, so don't come to me with anything lower than four inches. And of course, I expect you to dress as slutty as your imagination goes. You have to make sure I get rock hard the moment I see you, or I may prefer to call a professional hooker instead. You know: 'customer satisfaction guaranteed' and all that...". Oh, my! I scribbled like crazy, so astounded that my panties were flat again. Beyond his expectations about my appearance, he also set some behaviour rules for me. I was expected to get bigger dildoes (he just rightly assumed I had some), closer to the size of his cock, the more realistic the better, and I had to practice with them, but I was forbidden to climax if he wasn't at least on the phone or webcam authorizing me to do it. But I had to fuck myself at least once every night in any case! Pre- cum was expected, and I could milk some and tasting it was mandatory, but a full orgasm was proscribed. He warned me my balls might turn blue and hurt a little, but it was part of my duties to endure it. He finally set a deadline of three weeks for me to get ready before going to meet him at a Motel in downtown Vancouver. We will connect through webcam two or three times a week for some cyber-sex and general assessment of my evolving look. When he hung up I felt devastated... but having a clear purpose for the first time in my life. I mean: a real, life-changing purpose. And even while this relationship seemed limited to very little interaction, maybe not very romantic or intellectually committed, I was jumping into it with all my strenght. Even with a resolution I didn't know I had. This was the more exciting thing ever happened to me, and I felt completely attracted to Harry, even if he had stressed he wanted me to look like a girl! Again, I really don't know what could be more life-changing that becoming a girl, or a passable cross-dresser, at least. A week ago I had felt offended with the notion, but after our hot romance, I was absolutely decided to dress up for him whenever he wanted, and I was actually looking forward to it, feeling it would be fun to do it. What wasn't fun was the psychological pressure of buying girl's clothes... and makeup? Even the dildo was easier. I just went to a sex- shop with dark glasses and a hoodie, like many other people, and I already knew the guilty feeling of buying porn, and it wasn't like you went to any of those shops for groceries, so in the end it was just an awkward moment. But buying makeup... bummer... I finally recalled the Theater group at my art school and then looked for the opportunity to casually turn a conversation with one of the guys attending it, asking him where they used to get their makeup. There were no secret: they went to any regular shop and asked for it. Crazy as it sounded, some men do that all the time. I decided to enter a MAC Cosmetics shop in a mall in the morning, where there was very little people and told one of the saleswomen about this opera I was supposed to appear on, and before I could actually explain she was making recommendations and then making me seat to do a long test- drive. I ended up spending about 300 bucks but got a complete kit with a nice case including several lipsticks, eyeshadow, eyelashes, brushes, concealer, mascara and more. But more than anything, I ended up with an incredible and believable made up face. This woman had *actually* transformed me in a girl! I had previously sticked to my ambiguous look, but now it was hard for anyone to think of me as a boy. She had even plucked my brows a little, and the result was amazing. When I thanked her after paying for the whole set, ready to leave, she asked me to come back soon and air-kissed my cheek like girls do, and I thought that she might have taken me for a girl all the time. I left the shop and walked by the mall feeling terribly self-conscious, waiting for someone to start laughing and mocking the sissy fag... But I arrived home with no mocking, and instead a few stares and smiles from guys that made me blush. Gosh! I could actually pass as a girl! I spent the next few hours checking myself in the mirror and trying to practice a little, redoing my beautician's work. The outcome never got as professional as hers, but I got pretty good at cleansing my face, applying some base, a bit of blue eyeshadow and mascara. What took me more to get right was the lipstick, but I started loving the feeling of applying it. I left the lip plumper and other advanced tricks for later, and then I picked the more feminine attire I had, applied some styling mousse to my hair, letting some spike-out to give me a more feminine look, and then, feeling butterflies in my stomach, I ran out to a shopping spree. I came back home with my bank account balance nearly halved, but lots of bags with lingerie, including a couple bras, stockings and garter belt, skirts, tops, accessories, clip-on earrings, heels, hot pants, and a brunette wig that I couldn't resist. It was a Misha wig (artificial hair but beautiful and affordable), which contrasted nicely with my natural blond hair and my pale skin, and I just hoped Harry would like it this way while my own hair grew a little more. The next few days I tried to concentrate in my studies during most of the day, trying to compensate the time I had lost, but I was actually waiting the time to get back home to dress up, pose and practice. I had already used Nair to get rid of the embarrassing few hairs on my ass (I never noticed they were there until Harry mentioned it -shame on me!), legs, armpits and -worst of all- balls. I even shaved the little bush I had on my crotch and once fully hairless I could appreciate a lot better the intoxicating feeling of nylon and satin over my skin. Every night I spend about a couple hours preparing myself, selecting my lingerie and looking at myself on the mirror, walking in my heels (with difficulty at first, but getting it right over time) and then an hour or two playing with my dildo. It was pretty life-like, almost Harry's size, but not quite, and it had a strong suction cup allowing me to fix it to polished floors and walls, like the ones on my bathroom. Using a lot of lube, I started stretching my ass and milking my prostate. Getting my clit hard though, was not easy and automatic, and the way to turn me on once I had found my pace fucking the dildo was thinking on Harry. At some point I always started feeling desperate and willing to touch myself to climax, but I followed Harry's rules and avoided coming. Not easy to do, believe me, and as he warned me, pretty painful sometimes. Four days after my first shopping crusade, Harry texted me telling me to wait on my webcam around 6 PM. I took a lot of time to prepare myself with black nylon stockings and garter belt, my three inches pumps, a red satin set of panties and bra with black lace trimming, my black wig and matching makeup: dark silver eyeshadow, generous mascara extending my lashes, black pencil on my eyebrows to match the wig, and dark New York Apple lipstick. I had previously cleansed and lubed myself and had my dildo ready when Harry appeared online. I was expecting him to drool over my new feminized image, but instead he told me it was a "good start" and started playing with me. It seemed like he had a remote control for my brain, but it was just that I complied with everything he asked me. No batteries required; just his voice. He made me walk and dance sensually for him, and I could quickly notice how far I really was from a real girl... then he made me kneel with my butt to the camera, show him my ass, finger it for a while, and the fuck myself with the dildo, which he approved, at least. He never let me uncover or touch my dick, which remained trapped in my panties, but as I pushed the toy in and out of my ass while he talked to me, making me feel so submissive, commanding me to tell him how much I needed his cock, I got to the edge of cumming. He then told me to get a glass and allowed me to jerk off, stressing the camera should show just my ass being pounded by the dildo. I had to unload on the glass, and once I came I had to fix my panties and show him the glass which had about half an inch of cum inside. It was incredible how much I had spurted after days of restraint, at least for me! Once I calmed down he let me watch him masturbating in front of his camera, telling him how badly I wanted to be there to suck him off. I was horny once more and I could feel my dicklet getting hard again, making a bulge in my panties. When he finally came, he unloaded in a glass also, but he filled half of it with like seven thick jets of cum! Seeing all his cum dripping on the sides of the glass was painful for me. I was so desperate to taste him... Then he told me to drink my glass, even if it was a "sissy amount". I did it, and it tasted completely different from him. Mine was sweeter and silky, not so different from my pre-cum, which I had tasted many times already. Another big difference between me and a Real Man, and this started to become a continuous process of awareness... He said it was enough for the day and disconnected. I stood there, still excited, but I knew this was part of his "training," so I undressed, took my wig off, and went right to take a pretty cold shower. For the rest of the three weeks I started skipping classes again and focused on learning to walk properly on heels, first by watching movies and fashion shows, and he approved my improvement in our next calls, although he compelled me to practice on the streets, going out "en femme". The remaining sessions followed mostly the same pattern: I had to model for him and do a catwalk show, then dance a bit, especially showing my legs and ass to the camera, and then it was time for my dildo performance, fucking myself while looking at a close shot of his cock while he jerked off. Sometimes he didn't authorize me to finish, even after about an hour fucking the dildo, changing positions and taking it off from time to time to show him my gaping asshole. When he allowed me to cum, I always had to drink it. By the middle of the second week I was going out more confident, between my better work at makeup and hairstyle, and once I took the courage to go out with a skirt, things started to become easier, and I started to spend more and more time dressed up, starting to get my own sense of fashion, maybe a bit influenced by Harry's requirements, but my choices nevertheless. I got several short skirts and more feminine pants I used frequently, and a few miniskirts I didn't dare to use in the street but reserved for Harry. I also bought a couple sundresses taking advantage of the summer time. And of course I kept buying lingerie. I preferred boy-short panties, as my ass looked better in them (maybe because I was still too boyish?). I tried thongs and bikinis but my butt wasn't as full as the models in the catalogs, and it didn't look so good. Also, the boy-shorts kept my small dick and balls flatten between my legs. My balls, if small, were specially annoying to conceal. They kept moving away, and I had to start using tape to keep them in place, which was only possible now that I was fully hairless thanks to Veet, which I quickly preferred to Nair and its nasty smell. Over time and with more research I learned to push my testes back in their canal and use the empty sack to wrap my small clit and tuck it back firmly, so I could use a tight thong or a gaff to keep it there and look flat as a barbie doll. For my panties and bras sets I started picking cotton for everyday use and satin and lace for Harry, which he approved. And he also loved the microfiber stockings I got, and the fishnets. He finally got to like my brunette wig, although he made clear that he liked my natural blonde hair better, but he instructed me not to get a blond wig. He wanted to wait my hair grow naturally. Over the weeks my anxiety increased. The last few times we connected he didn't even let me touch my dick, and I had no chance to release, although he did make me fuck myself and get off by watching his cock on screen. As he warned me, my balls start aching, but he told me to endure it and use some ice to calm down. I had a nocturnal emission one night, and when I awake and noticed I felt depressed. I had failed Harry somehow, and when we talked, I confessed with shame. But he said not to worry, that would just had to compensate by doing something after we met. I was intrigued but I was thankful he wasn't mad at me, and from this night on I started to wake whenever I had a hard-on while sleeping and if I couldn't control it I would go to the fridge for ice or just wash my face with cold water. It was not easy but all in all, I made it to our first meeting... Packing my femme clothes, I dressed in my previously regular ambiguous attire to avoid problems at the airport, and flew to Vancouver. This relationship would be a bit expensive, but fortunately my parents kept my account pretty well stocked for my studies. Well... I considered this a deep sociological study on my own behavior, and after all, I reasoned, this wasn't something I could think they didn't have any responsibility about. That flight might have been the worst of my life. Not because anything with the flight itself, but for my extreme state of unrest. So much that once I arrived in Vancouver, purposefully with several hours of time to prepare myself, the first thing I did at my hotel room after a long bath was fixing the dark circles around my eyes with careful application of concealer. Then I followed all the long ritual of douching my asshole many times and applying a sweet scented lube, then doing my toe and fingernails with passion red polish, matching my lipstick. I used a bit of grey eyeshadow under my eyebrows, and then blurred my eyelids out and up with a light blue which made my blue eyes sparkle. My hair was a bit longer now, just a bit beyond gar?on-style, and I used some styling mousse to give it a more feminine and attractive look. Once my nail polish was completely dry and I could move safely I started dressing up, carefully pulling my small balls and clit back as flat as possible, wearing a tight thong, then covering all with my purple lace and black satin boy shorts. I put the matching bra which was padded, giving my flat chest a slight appearance of pubescent boobs. Black stockings with a suspender belt with forward and backward straps completed the intimate look, and then I carefully put a short black leather miniskirt with held low on my hips and barely covered my ass. I would never go out with something like this, but I had brought a long raincoat to wear from my hotel to the motel where Harry would meet me. My top was a lovely short white silk shirt with elbow-length ruffled sleeves that left my navel exposed. The square neckline didn't have cleavage space, but it was good because I had nothing to fill it, and it was sexy nevertheless. I stopped triple-checking my make up and outfit when the time came to go to our appointed motel, and with a shiver running through my spine I put the raincoat and big sunglasses on and clickety-clacked on my five inch black patent leather pumps, which I had mastered after long walking exercises. The short trip on a taxi cab was like a torture for me, and the driver kept watching me through the mirror, surely noting my shaky state of mind. But we finally arrived to the motel entrance, where I climbed down and walked to Harry's room, keeping the stealth mode I decided on this move. I finally found the door, knocked, and instead of opening the door, I heard him calling me in, telling me it was not locked. I turn the knob and pushed it open, not been able to see much in the dim room, my eyes still accustomed to the sunlight still bathing the street outside. I took my glasses off and could see a hint of his shape seated inside. I smiled and entered the room, closing the door, anxiously, and then he commanded me to stay there, turn around to face the closed door and take my coat off. I did it, trembling, and dropped the coat on a nearby chair. Then I heard his voice slowly approaching: "Hmmm... I like this skirt, babe. Put you hands on the door and spread your legs for me... I should arrest you for looking so good. Or at least I can search you for weapons...," he said closer, and then I felt his huge and warm hands grabbing my hips and running them up my sides. A soft moan escaped my lips and I instinctively pushed my butt higher to him and let my head drop back, trying to see him. How hot! I felt his hands slipping up to cover my breasts while his face searched mine and our mouths clashed together; mine just opening up for him to invade it with his tongue, which I started sucking by reflex. And while we made out standing there, in the fogginess of my brain I could feel his rampant hard-on getting into my legs and start rubbing my crotch from behind, realising he was naked indeed. I humped back, responding to his advance, and we started a lovely frottage while we kissed. Quickly his hands where all over my body, and his lips left my mouth to roam my neck, releasing me to moan as he kept fondling me. I could feel the powerful muscles of his arms hugging me and the ones from his legs rubbing against my nylon clad stockings. He was now sucking my neck like a vampire, and I knew I would get some hickeys for sure, but I didn't care. The image just flashed my mind and I thought I would have a souvenir from this moment to enjoy the next few days. I couldn't help but dropping a hand from the door to his pole moving between my legs, but before I could touch him very much he turned me around, nailing me down to the door, kissing me now full frontal, and letting me grab his cock eagerly, while my other hand roamed his solid chest and the muscles around his neck. His body was as hot as a twenty- something college guy even while he was more than double that age, and I loved touching his rugged manly skin. Genetically, he was "The Male" I could never had become. And his cock in my hand made me feel all tingly down inside my thong, even if my clit was merely swelling, with its weak ability to get hard further constrained by its tight confinement. Nevertheless, I could feel some wetness dripping from my clit into my taint, slightly dampening the dainty triangle of my inner G-string. And as soon as he broke our kiss for a bit, I just let my body slip down, kissing his pectorals down to his handsome abdomen, licking his navel until I was crouching, my mouth looking desperately to engulf his cockhead. And I promptly did, hungrily rolling my tongue over his addictive precum, starting to suck this glorious and purple head while my hands wrapped around the hot skin of his maleness. I could hear his satisfied whispers, and following every reaction I started getting in rhythm, until he took charge grabbing my head and started pumping my lips, slowly getting deeper until he hit the back of my throat, listened to my muffled groans and first gagging sounds, and waiting a couple seconds for me to adjust, pushed a bit more and made me swallow and fucked my throat for a few pumps, withdrawing timely to avoid suffocating me, then letting me suck his pole and tip for a while before pushing deep again. A few times later I was getting the hang of it and I could feel his balls stroking my chin, announcing to me that incredibly I had half his tool moving past my tonsils. It was amazing and even as it was pretty hard, I felt incredibly proud and devoted to his pleasure. Fucking my throat made me also produce copious amounts of spit, which started dripping in long and sticky threads from the sides of my mouth, dampening my silk shirt and my mostly flat cleavage. His cock was fully coated with spit now, and it seemed it was something he was expecting, because he checked it and stepping back, he pulled me up and turned me back against the door, where I immediately assumed my position, opening my legs and popping my ass to him, waiting anxiously for his cock inside me. He flipped my skirt up, groping my ass through my boy shorts seconds before getting his thumbs on the sides to force it down, pushing them just enough to leave my asshole accessible. Then he slightly pulled the string of my thong to the left and I felt his head searching for my anus. I gasped in anticipation, and then cried as he entered my preemptively well-lubed anus. Feeling his flesh advancing against my sphincter ring, stretching it open, was a bit painful but mostly delightful, and when he pushed deeper and I felt his cock entering me I started moaning like crazy. And then he started pumping, and I could feel his warm cock moving back and forth, each time further into me, until he started hitting my love spot, making my bulge swell as much as it could inside the thong, slowly drooling pre-cum, wetting my crotch. He fucked me against the door for awhile, and I just hoped no one was passing outside the room, because my cries should have been easy to hear several feet around. Then he slipped out of me and went to the bed, telling me to take the shirt and skirt off before coming. I obeyed and rushed to the bed, where he was laying against the pillows, his legs open and his rampant cock inviting. I crawled to his side and engulfed his cock again, tasting the lubricant I had applied before arriving, mixed with his pre-cum. Nothing foul, I noticed, proudly of my current cleansing skill. Harry fingered my asshole with one hand, using the other one to push my head down onto his cock, driving the rhythm of my blowjob, letting me suck him for a long time, admiring my work and letting me know: "You are an accomplished cock sucker now, pet. It is nice to see how much you love this..." After a good time, he just pulled my hair up, unplugging my eager mouth from his cock, and command me to ride him. I climbed astride his legs and taking his shaft with my hand, got it in my entrance and clumsily struggled with it until it entered my ass. All the practice with the dildoes were not enough to master the "real thing". But I finally get it well inside me, and groaning, I supported myself with my hands on his chest and started riding him, crying of lust, while he crossed his hands behind his head, entertained, and let me do all the work. I loved this. I could feel his hard shaft smashing my prostate, making my clit as hard as possible in the confines of the thong, pleasure cream trickling from its tip. And as I was the one moving, I could control the speed and depth, avoiding any pain, enjoying him fully... except I missed his force over me. But he was being careful. He let me fuck him this way for a long time, getting my bum getting accustomed and stretched, and slapping my hand every time I tried to touch the small bulge in my tight thong. Indeed, twice was enough for me to fully learn the lesson: my clit wasn't something he wanted to see or care about. It seemed strange to me at the time, when I still considered we had a gay relationship. But the warm up finished, and then he pushed me to the side and then an hands and knees over the bed, getting behind me to start fucking me doggy style. Literally doggy, as I felt as a bitch in heat under his powerful control. His cock reached now way deeper than my ride brought it, and it was uncomfortable at first, so much that I felt my clit shrunk limp again, and I dropped my head to the sheet and endured the harsh fuck. Feeling abused by him was a huge turn on, anyway, and as soon as I got used to his jackhammering me, my clit started to stiffen again, straining for release. He kept going on me for so long I lost sense of time, and at some point my legs couldn't resist anymore and I got squashed over the linen, his heavy body bumping over me, our sweat mixing and splashing as his pelvis smacked my buttocks at every pump. If I had felt him deep before, now I was feeling his cock in my stomach, and my love spot was under constant massage, my clit continuously leaking, until at some point he tensed, moved slower, and I felt his cock harder and bigger inside me, then he growled like a bear and steadily pumped a gallon of hot cum in my rectum. I was ecstatic. I had dream about this all the time since we last met, and I was now rewarded by this incredible lovemaking. When he finally stopped cumming, he let his full weight fall over me, deliciously crushing me, and kissed my neck and ears. Then he flipped to the side, laying on his back and taking my head, he drove me to his cock to clean the mess. Which I eagerly did. Once I had him clean of cum with my tongue, he was rock hard again, and I got the benefit of another doggy fuck, which lasted centuries, and near the end he just made me turn around and suck him until he cum in my mouth, letting me swallow another huge load. Once I had licked him clean, he went to look for his clothes, letting me help a bit and kissing my cheek he told me: "You were good, babe. We will keep in contact and will schedule another fuck when I can. Bye." And left, leaving me tired and satisfied, although a bit sad he could not stay longer... And actually we kept in touch with our calls and video chats, and I made a few short trips in the following months to have more of those quick but hot encounters with him at some motels. I kept improving at dressing up and to look better, I started to wax the little hair I had, and pluck my eyebrows, which make more frequent the situations where people took me as a girl. But now it didn't bothered me at all. Sometimes I even was glad, thinking Harry would like me more this way. Then, one day, he called me and announced that his wife had to travel again and he invited me to spend a week in a house he had at an island. It would be just him and me and anybody else in miles around.