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My New Life 5 free porn video
My New Life, a story by Dee Ramone © D. Ramone 2018
My New Life is an erotic novel by D. Ramone featuring themes of chastity
and cross-dressing and descriptions of sexually explicit acts which those
of a sensitive nature may find not to their tastes. It is not suitable
for such readers nor for anyone considered a minor by the authorities in
their country of residence.
My New Life is entirely a work from Dee Ramone and any similarities to
places or people, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The
names of all individuals in this story have been changed to protect their
identities.
Authors Notes.
My New Life (and how I came to accept it). Part 5
There is something delightfully sublime about the feel a pair of
stockings. They are so delicate, yet strong, at one and the same time.
And the feelings they engender as they are drawn slowly, carefully, even
lovingly, up a naked, hairless calf and glide gracefully over knee and
thigh is something that has to be experienced to be truly appreciated.
A stocking does not just cover the leg, it embraces it, caresses it with
a cool, delicate touch that increases as the diaphanous material
leisurely plays out from between slightly nervous fingers before it
gently enfolds every contour of the extended limb. At first, fresh from
the pack, the stocking is a little cool, and it sends tiny electric
tingles over the flesh as it settles gracefully into place. But, as the
stocking contracts under its own elasticity, it hugs the leg a little
tighter, and it begins to warm. That first tingling is replaced by a
soft, sumptuous embrace that encompasses every inch of the naked flesh
that it covers.
The colour helps. Black is suggestive of wickedness, and a back-seam
hints at erotic temptation. While a nude stocking expresses something
sensible and practical demeanour, with just an intimation of sensual
undertones. Brighter colours tell of a sexually playful nature. And
fishnets shout an open and inviting sexuality that is both daring and
unabashed. A smoky grey says "I am a little more sophisticated, but a
sexual being for all that". Whereas patterned and decorative stockings
speak to a heightened awareness of the wearers own appetites and their
resolve to get what they want.
But it is not just that the flesh under the stocking is naked, stockings
by their very design, leave a truly naked area above the darker,
elasticated band of material at the top. They draw the eye looking at the
leg upward and, as the eye can see, they ever so slightly squeeze the
thigh and frame the nakedness of the loins as if an invitation for the
viewer. Sure, tights can be just sheer, just as patterned, or coloured,
but they cover everything and it is the parts that stockings leave
uncovered that draw the eye: and the sexual focus.
I had, like most men, never worn stockings, never even thought about
wearing them, until Lisa presented me with a fresh pair still in their
wrapper. We had, as we often did, showered together in the morning. A
process that incorporated much kissing and many cuddles. It also allowed
us to wash each other's backs and, at the same time, allowed me access to
wash Lisa's wonderful, firm breasts. For her part, Lisa used it as an
opportunity to carefully wash, dry, and carefully inspect my caged penis.
Something that she took great satisfaction over. And something that
afforded her the opportunity to tease me to the point of a straining
erection that had no chance of release. But our showers together now
incorporated a new ritual. Now that my body had been denuded of hair,
Lisa introduced a lotion, a gentle body scrub that would prevent most of
the hair from growing back and thus extend the intervals between the
times I would need to shave my body.
Lisa had told me how she preferred me to have smooth skin and, honestly,
I found that being totally smooth heightened the sensitivity of my skin
to her touch. What I had felt before, as Lisa ran her fingertips over my
flesh, was nothing to the thrill of feeling her touch on truly naked
skin. I had never thought, that even just a little body hair, could be a
barrier between us. Only when I was completely hairless did I really
understand what it was to be intermit with her body.
But, after we had dried each other off, and I put on the lacy black
panties that Lisa had selected for me to wear that day, I got another
surprise.
"David darling," Lisa said in a slightly hushed tone. "I want you to wear
these also."
She offered me the packet containing the stocking with a soft, reassuring
smile on her lips and a somewhat quizzical look in her eyes. I got the
feeling she was trying to tell me it was something she sincerely wanted
me to do for her, to wear stocking along with my panties as I made our
breakfast. But she was also telling me, with that tiny smile, that she
wasn't asking me to do it so that she could laugh at me, rather that she
genuinely wanted me to look sexy for her. Yet that look in her eyes told
me that she feared I might refuse and, in spite of showing my willingness
to be subjugated to her wishes, I might yet rebel.
Truthfully, I was hesitant and a little reluctant. I mean, walking around
the house in nothing but panties and stockings was hardly the manly way
to behave. But then, I had acceded to her wish for me to wear a chastity
cage and panties. So, logically, I told myself, stockings should not have
come as a surprise to me. I loved Lisa, and I do mean loved her. It
wasn't some love born out of desperation, I mean that with me working
from home I didn't get many chances to meet people but, once I met Lisa,
I had fallen in love with her; and fallen hard. And what if she was a
little kinky, well a lot kinky actually, I was in love with Lisa, kinks
and all.
I still recall that my hands were shaking somewhat as I took the packet
from Lisa. Opening the pack was the easy part but, as I unwrapped the
stockings from the little card inside, I was struck by how delicate they
felt. Never before had I handled stockings, honestly how many men do. But
as I lifted them in my trembling fingers I was nervous that at any
second, I would somehow snag or rip them.
"Watch me," Lisa said reassuringly, "I'll show you how to put them on
this time."
I caught the "this time" comment but didn't give it much thought right
then.
So, I watched. Like an enthusiastic student at the feet of some great,
knowledgeable sage, I watched and endeavoured to copy Lisa's tantalising
movements. I watched as she carefully rolled her stocking into a doughnut
with only the toe hanging proud. And, just as she had done I did also.
Sitting on the end of the bed beside her, I pointed the toes of my right
leg, like her and slipped the stocking on, drawing it over my foot.
"Be careful to keep a little tension on the stocking. But only use the
pads of your finger and thumb. Never use the fingertips or the nail will
ladder the nylon," Lisa told me as she drew her stocking up her leg. "I
want you to have sexy legs and there is nothing less sexy than a ladder."
After watching Lisa, I tried to imitate her actions. I was careful to
just use the pads of my fingers and tried to keep just the right amount
of tension of the nylon. But my first attempt failed and the stocking
hung loosely at the knee. As always Lisa was more than understanding. She
simply smiled at my ineffective effort and had me roll the stocking down
and try again. This time she watched me more closely, telling when to
apply more tension and when to slow down.
That was when I really felt it for the first time. Felt the gentle way a
stocking hugs a leg. Felt too the smooth glide of cool, delicate nylon
over genuinely naked flesh. It was thrilling, erotic, and devilishly
deviant, and I loved it. In an instant I understood why women keep their
bodies smooth and wear such beautiful things against their skin, it feels
simply heavenly. It is as if you are being touched everywhere, yet not
touched at all. You are being caressed, fondled almost, yet there is not
a hand or finger near you. It is such a beautiful feeling that I simply
do not have the words to truly describe it. But I was beginning to
understand why women will go out of their way to buy such beautiful
things to wear. And not just women.
It is one thing to make love to a woman who is wearing something sexy.
Indeed, several times when I had made love to Lisa in the past, she had
worn stockings to bed. And I had run my fingertips over them, caressed
and kissed her legs through them. I had felt them against my legs as we
lay together. But it was a whole different world wearing them myself and
feeling them against my new, totally smooth skin. This was a new world to
me. A new, sexually kinky and exciting world.
Even before I had picked up the second stocking I had felt my caged
manhood straining against the plastic surrounding it. Taking the delicate
stocking between my fingers and rolling it ready, I felt my member
becoming more and more erect, or at least attempting to. But then I also
felt the tight confines of the chastity cage, and the pinching of the
ring around my scrotum. Even so, as much as I wished that my erection
would subside, it just wouldn't. The sensual feel of the stockings on my
legs, the wickedly erotic thoughts running rampant in my brain, were
overwhelming my feeble efforts to return to a flaccid state. My delight
at wearing stockings for the first time was simply too much. And it was
overpowering my will.
Lisa saw my discomfort, saw also how my manhood was straining at the cock
cage to the point where the very tip of my gland was forcing its way
through the small opening at the end of the plastic prison. She gave a
soft, knowing smile, but said nothing.
The stockings Lisa had given me called hold-ups. That being the type that
has an extra thick band around the tops, which is slightly sticky, that
grip the thigh on their own and therefore don't need a suspender belt.
Upon reflection, I could see what Lisa was doing, giving me one feminine
article at a time and gauging my reactions to each. Without jumping
ahead, it was a process she was to continue over the coming weeks.
For the time being, I was dressed in black, lacy panties and black hold-
up stockings. And I was adoring the feel of it.
"Why don't you put your apron on and go make breakfast, there's a good
boy," Lisa said giving my stockinged thigh a little rub. Then her hand
lightly drifted up to my bottom and she gave me a playful slap. "And put
something on your feet. I don't want you ruining your new stockings."
It was a good point, but what to wear. I couldn't very well wear my silly
old tartan slippers, they wouldn't look right. And a pair of shoes would
be equally ridiculous. Why was I not surprised when Lisa came up with the
answer, a pair of her open back mules with a one-inch heel.
So that was the fashion in which I was dressed for most of that day. I
cooked breakfast in stockings, panties, and an apron. Later, working on
the wardrobe, which is why I had gone to Lisa's for the week, I wore work
jeans and a tee shirt over my stockings and pantie. Afterward we decided
to go for a pub lunch so, after stripping off and showering, Lisa gave me
a clean pair of panties and another pair of hold-up stocking. I was to
wear slacks and a dress shirt over these, but no socks. And my fears of
somebody seeing that I had stockings on under my male clothes were
dismissed offhand by Lisa. Besides, as she said at the time, who spends
their time looking at some guys ankles.
What Lisa had said was true enough. I mean, ask yourself, when was the
last time you went around looking at other guys ankles. Even so, and
regardless of me telling myself repeatedly that nobody would notice, I
was a bag of nerves all through our meal. Wearing hold-ups meant that
there was no tell tail bump in my pants from a suspender stud. But, I
felt sure that somebody would notice something. In the end, however,
nobody did, a fact that Lisa was only too happy to point out to me both
then and on any future occasion when I might complain about something she
had me wear. For the time being, I was just relieved that I had gotten
away with it; it was after all the first time I had been outside in
stocking but it was only the first of many times that were to follow.
That night, and the next few nights afterward, we didn't make love, as
such. Lisa, like many women, liked to be cuddled. So that was what I had
to do for the next few nights. I was allowed to kiss her, hold her close
to me, stroke her body and, when she told me to, I would go down on her,
kissing and licking her sex until she came. This was our routine for a
few days, both in bed and out of it. I was allowed to worship Lisa, to
hold her and kiss her, but through it all my chastity cage stayed very
firmly locked.
I got the feeling that Lisa was testing me. She didn't admit it, even
when I asked her much later. But she was using her body, and my desire
for her, to test the limits that I could endure in chastity. And several
times I very nearly cracked. But, I had willingly given myself to Lisa
and, despite my own sexual needs, I was determined not to give in to my
own lusts.
I know some people will think me crazy, unhinged, weak-willed, stupid, or
whatever insulting epithet you might want to label me with, but I don't
see it that way. Being submissive to another isn't because you're weak,
rather it's because you choose to give your power to somebody else. And
being in chastity isn't about being denied sex. Quite the opposite, I
find chastity highly arousing. It's like a long slow foreplay leading up
to great sex; in fact, the best sex I have ever experienced. True, you
have no idea when that sex is going to be. And yes, being locked in a
chastity cage can be maddeningly frustrating and sometimes downright
painful. Yet you know that you are doing it for the woman you love and
you also know that she loves the power she has over you.
Perhaps I am going on a bit, but I am trying to help others understand
the mix of emotions that were going through my mind in those early days.
Many times I tried to reason things out, making lists of the pros and
cons in my head, but each time I did that I always gave up and fell back
on one justification for all of my actions. Put simply, anything that
felt that good, can't be wrong.
What we were doing was not for everybody, hell for a long time I didn't
think it was right for me. But, on those occasions I did object to
something, Lisa always had a way convincing me to go along with her
wishes just to try it. Like when I object to wearing panties all the
time. Lisa simply said that "lingerie doesn't a gender. And it's only
fair that if I wear something sexy for you, you should be willing to wear
something sexy for me." It's hard to argue with simple logic like that,
especially when you find wearing lingerie thrilling all by itself. Even
if I was at first loathed to admit it.
So, as the week went on, Lisa slowly added to my crossdressing. To begin
with, it was just the stockings, pantie, and low-heeled mules. And of
course, at night I would wear a nightdress to bed. But one day, towards
the end of the week, it was a little cold and I asked Lisa if I might not
be allowed something else to keep me warm. Lisa just smiled.
"Of course," she said innocently, "it is a bit nippy. Come on upstairs I
am sure I can find a skirt or dress to fit you."
"A dress," I gasped, it was not what I had in mind.
"But of course a dress," Lisa smiled her wicked little smile. She ran her
hand up my stocking covered thigh and I felt a shiver of arousal run
through me. "You don't think I am going to let you cover up those sexy
legs of yours with nasty jeans or something."
"I suppose not," I said weakly, resigned to my fate. I already knew that
Lisa thought I had sexy legs. She couldn't keep her hands off my thighs
when we were sitting together on the sofa. Just as she could help herself
from stroking my bum through my panties when the mode took her or playing
with my nipples through my nightdress in bed.
So, I followed her up to the bedroom where she sorted out a few different
dresses and skirts for me to try on. Sadly, most of them didn't fit, my
waist was slightly too large for her things and we just couldn't get the
waistbands closed. Lisa suggested that we might have to get me either a
wardrobe of my own things or perhaps a corset. I don't know which idea
made me more nervous, or more excited. In the end, there were two things
that fit. The first, a grey pin-striped pencil skirt. It was knee length
but very tight over my bum and around the thighs and made walking
difficult unless I took only short steps. The other was an off-white
stretch tube dress with short sleeves and an even shorter skirt. It too
was a tight fit, and it did nothing to cover the tops of my stockings.
But at least it had a high rolled neck and covered the better part of my
body.
"Oh, that's definitely you darling," Lisa gushed seeing me in the stretch
dress. "Do me a favor and stand up on your toes then turn around for me."
I did as she asked and was surprised at her reaction.
"Well I'll be," Lisa gasped, staring at me. "I swear you've got better
legs than me and, when you're up on your toes like that, you've got a
lovely bum. You know I think that dress fits you like it was made for
you."
I blushed at that, not knowing what to say. But Lisa went on.
"You know," she said thoughtfully. "If we got you a body shaper, just to
take your waist in a bit, you couldn't wear a corset in that dress it
would show too much. And we need to get you some padding to fill out the
breasts. But you could really pass in that dress. Naturally, you will
have to wear heels. And you'll need to practice walking in them. I don't
want you breaking an ankle. But yes. A bit more shaping, some padding in
the right places. A wig and makeup and you could really pass as a girl."
"Pass as a girl," I gasped. "Is that what this is leading to?"
Lisa could see I was annoyed, but she quickly reassured me by stepping in
close and holding me. She kissed me gently on the lips and said. "Don't
be mad at me. It's hard to explain but I suppose I am a little bit bi. I
tried it once, sleeping with another girl, but didn't really like it.
It's strange but I like the idea of being a lesbian but not of sleeping
with another girl. I don't know, it's hard to put into words. Maybe it
was just that girl that I didn't like. Maybe if I had tried other girls
it might be different. But my problem is that while I like the idea of
being a lesbian, I much prefer men.
I wasn't sure that I followed what she was getting at so I did something
that men don't often do, I said nothing and just listened.
Lisa explained that before going to university she had had a couple of
boyfriends. Nothing serious and she'd only had sex once, which, as she
described it, sounded like a bit of a disaster. Once at university, and
still unsure of her own sexuality, Lisa thought she might be lesbian. It
was the seventies and things were a bit more uninhibited then. Flower
power and free love might have been on the way out but people back then
were more willing to experiment with their sexuality. So, like many girls
her age, Lisa experimented with lesbianism, well once at least. As she
put it, "it was good, but not great".
She did have an orgasm when the other girl went down on her. And she
quite enjoyed going down on the other girl. But there was still something
missing. After that brief affair, Lisa began dating a boy. She described
him as being really slim, which come to think about it most of us were
back then. He also had long hair and very smooth skin.
As Lisa told me all of this I began to understand where she was coming
from. She like men far more than women, but she like men that had female
traits, namely a slight build, soft skin and so on.
"I think I understand," I said at last. And I really did think I
understood Lisa. She wanted a man to be her girlfriend. Lisa was
dominant, so she also wanted someone that would be submissive to her. So
long as I was willing to accept that, and to fill the role that she saw
for me in our relationship, then we had a future together, and a very
loving future at that. Yes, it meant some big, no huge, changes in my
lifestyle but, the heart wants what the heart wants. And I wanted to be
with Lisa so was willing to try.
For the rest of the day I walked round the house in those low heels and
that tight dress. It felt distinctly odd, walking in heels. And I was
forever pulling at the hem of the dress in an attempt to stop it from
riding up and exposing too much of my stocking tops. Lisa also had to
remind me several times to smooth the dress under my bottom when I sat
down. And to cross my legs while seated rather than leave them open in a
very "un-lady-like fashion", which I was in a habit of doing.
After a while I got used to it, got used to moving in a slightly
different manner, sitting differently, and doing things differently. Like
if I needed to pick something off the floor, I had to crouch down and not
just bend. And Lisa would give me a playful slap on the rear if I forgot
and she saw me. But, overall, I didn't mind wearing a dress and, by the
end of the day, it was beginning to feel fairly natural. One thing I did
like, was all the extra attention Lisa was giving me while wearing the
dress. Very soon it became clear that having me in stockings and a short
dress was very much a turn on for Lisa and I wasn't going to complain
about that.
That night, after washing up and taking a shower together, Lisa released
me from the chastity cage. After examining my manhood, to ensure that it
was not chafed or otherwise marked by the cage, Lisa gave me a red satin
baby doll nightdress with matching panties to wear for bed. But after
being locked in that cage for the better part of four days my manhood was
not going to be constrained by the small panties she had given me. The
soft satin felt wonderful against my flesh and I could not wait to feel
Lisa's body against mine and to feel her touch through the delicate
material.
For her part, Lisa wore an ivory, silk teddy that clung to her every
curve. She looked beautiful, but then I always thought she looked
beautiful.
We went to bed and, just as we had on the previous nights, we spent a
long time kissing and cuddling. The only difference was that I wasn't
wearing the cage. Even so, as much as I wanted to make love to Lisa,
penetrative sex didn't seem that important to me. It was much nicer just
feeling the closeness of our bodies to one another. I wanted to just hold
her, to run my hands all over her shapely body, and I wanted her to do
the same to me. And we did, for several hours we did just that. And yes,
we also teased each other. I would gently run my fingers up her thighs,
brushing her smooth flesh to within a fraction of her sex but, just as
she would gasp a short breath of air as her excitement built, I would
skip my fingers past her sex and brush them down her other thigh.
I peeled her teddy off her shoulders and began kissing her breasts.
Beginning at her throat I would trail a line of tender over her skin.
Slow I would work my way down between her breasts, kissing them, then
under them and around them. All the time my kisses would close in of her
nipples as my kisses circled her breasts but, as Lisa groaned in her
pleasure and bit her lower lip as she lifted her breast towards my lips,
I would slowly, and very gently move away and begin kissing her tummy.
And just as I would tease Lisa she would do the same to me. Time after
time she would stroke my thighs, or kiss my stomach, coming ever so close
to my manhood without ever touching it. At one time she lay with her head
on my stomach, her face turned towards my straining gland that was
standing proud of the small panties I was wearing. Lisa began to blow on
it softly, cooling the precum that was slowly dribbling from the tip and
running down my shaft. I don't know where she got the idea from but the
sensation of her doing that was mind-blowing.
When at last we did make love, it was the most powerful orgasm I had ever
experienced. I don't know if it was because I had been locked in that
cage for several days, or the way Lisa had teased me but, when she
climbed on top of me and began to slowly ride me, all the while telling
me I must hold back, I was ready to cum right then. Yet I did as she
asked. I tried to keep my breathing as even as possible, tried to hold
myself back even as I felt my shaft engulfed in the wet, warmth of her
enflamed sex. But, as she ground her sex down onto me, rubbed her
clitoris against my loins, I couldn't hold back any longer and I exploded
inside of her.
Lisa came at that same moment. Her sex seemed to clamp tight around my
shaft as she rocked herself on my manhood. She leaned back slightly, her
hands going to my thighs gripping them tightly as she grunted loudly in
ecstasy.
Afterward, we lay together for some time. My manhood was still deep
within her and, surprisingly refused to subside. Lisa seemed to love
that, and I felt her using the muscles of her sex to squeeze my shaft
repeatedly as she bathed in the afterglow of her orgasm.
But later, as things cooled down, Lisa had us both get up and shower
again. Then, when I returned to the bedroom, she again said that I should
be locked in the chastity cage. Indeed, she was sitting up in bed holding
it ready for me. So, I lay down beside her and once more submitted to
having my manhood locked away in the confines of that plastic prison.
Arisha
- 17.09.2021
- 5
- 0
