Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
- 3 years ago
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The Man Across The Street free porn video
The man across the street....
As long as I can remember people had remarked how with my pretty face,
slight build and general demeanor I should have been a girl. After my
parents had died in a car accident, I now lived with my glamorous young
aunt Charlotte who was a business woman who owned a chain of upscale
fashion boutiques. Now, being a hormonal 16 year old adolescent, I was
fascinated by her totally glamorous and sexualized way of dressing.
Always wearing the highest of heels possible, tight satin dresses, always
perfectly made up and with fabulous hair, she was a teenager's wet dream
personified. I kinda idolized her. In hindsight I should say that my
sentiment was somewhere between lust and 'wanting to be like her' but I
didn't quite realize that untill much later.
Which brings me to my one small vice. You see, after being told how much
I looked like a girl so often, one day I decided to see for myself. So
after my aunt went out one evening, I snuck into her room to try on some
of my beautifull aunty's gorgeous clothes. I was instantly overwhelmed by
the sensuous feel of silk, satin, nylon, and lace caressing my body. But
the biggest surprise came when I looked at myself. I wasn't stunning, but
I did look like a girl, probably even a rather pretty one. So, after that
revelation I got hooked on the concept and started dressing up whenever I
could, every time getting a bit better at looking and acting like a real
young miss.
Sometimes I'd dress all out in one of aunty's formal gowns, do my hair
and make-up, and eventually make myself cum in my pretty panties as I
pretended to wait for my masculine boyfriend to take me to the dance.
But how can I explain all the sensations that brought me to where I now
was?
Once I get dressed I have to be sure I act as a lady completely, only
feminine movements , actions and (even)motivations were allowed. I'm
acutely conscious of my false lashes every time I blink or flutter and I
am absolutely shure I always have to walk elegantly in the highest heels
possible. There is this authorative inner voice that makes me take all
this as far as I possibly can. The voice that seems to find an almost
sadistic pleasure in destroying all that is left of the boy in me. It's
also the delightful silky feel of the clothes, the feminine fabrics, and
how they feel when I walk and move and how they slip and slide against
each other under my dresses. And how the garter straps pull the stocking
tops tight, and how tight the girdle is and how they smooth me into a
feminine shape. And how the nylons shine and how slippery and silky they
feel on my smooth legs and how you can hear that zipping sound with each
step as my calves and thighs rub together. These feelings I can only try
to explain to someone who hasn't experienced such sensations him/herself.
My body totally smooth now, shaved from just below my perfectly shaped
eyebrows to the tips of my gloss red pedicured toes. Everything I now
wore was made of nylon, silks, satin and taffeta. I wore in a tight six
strap garter belt that held fully fashioned nylon stockings tight and
taut high on my smooth hairless thighs, the tight sheer fabric caressing
my legs with each mincing step . The sensation of being deprived of
wearing even a single stitch of masculine clothing by my own free will
was mesmerizing.
So meanwhile I had continued to indulge myself in my increasingly
elaborate and detailed dress-up sessions at home. As aunty often left the
place to me when she was away on business for a few days, I had all the
opportunity to so. Over past few months I had bought quite a few items of
ladies apparel of my own and had aquaired a few beautiful wigs. And so in
the evenings, when I had the place to myself, i'd get dressed up in one
of aunty's prettiest party-dresses, of course complete with fabulous
make-up, hair and all the trimmings, fantasizing about me as my
beautifull aunt's very glamorous young niece having a quiet night in,
lounging around savouring the very erotic sensations of the sensual
materials enveloping my body and more and more often there were thoughts
mixed in about being lusted after by and being forced to make out
passionately with masculine older men. I'm not shure where that idea had
come from (probably my'evil' inner voice again) but for some reason the
thought excited me to no end.
The whole idea of being seen and lusted after as a pretty girl seemed to
amplify all the sensations of this already disturbing game.
And then one night when I was once again dressed up to the nines, I
noticed that in the house across the street there was someone standing in
the window looking out. I wondered if he, as it obviously looked like a
man, could see me from there? The thought grew on me and from that moment
I almost subconsciently started to play for a (possible)audience. I
positioned myself so the onlooker would have best possible view when I
let my skirt accidentally ride up and mercilessly taunted the viewer with
the coquettish poses and mannerisms I had been practicing in front of the
mirror.
I had of course put on my make-up more extreme than any decent young miss
would ever have worn in public. My perfectly applied eye-liner and false
lashes made me look very seductive and glamorous and my lipstick was so
glossy it was almost obscene. My earrings were outrageous too, in
shimmering silver and rhinestones that flashed and sparkeled with the
least movement of my head and my platinumblonde hair. A very classy wig,
of course. I felt deliciously wicked and wanton, a true teenage vamp, and
it excited me deeply. The house across the street belonged to old
mr.Blenkinsop who was the retired librarian of the local highschool of
whom it was rumoured that he was a bit of a Don Juan. And although I knew
that there was no way someone would clock me as anything but a very
pretty girl once dressed up, he may of course still make the link with
the fair boy across the street who lived with his glamorous aunt. For
some reason that didn't alarm me a bit so when my 'admirer' once again
appeared in view the next night, I just continued my little 'show' for
him.
I was dressed in the beautifull designer cocktailgown I had bought online
a few weeks ago. It was in a gorgeous peach satin and the flaring
petticoated skirt was about kneelength. It was the first dress i'd ever
owned myself. He must have stood there for at least ten minutes before he
moved away from the window. I now saw the light behind his front door
come on and I suddenly remembered that it must be around 10.30 ,the time
when mr.Blenkinsop usually walks his dog. I was right because there, in
the doorway, was mr.Blenkinsop with his prize poodle. Still looking in my
direction obviously. It's not that he goes for long walks, it's usually
to the end of the street on his side and than back on our side of the
street. This does mean that in a few minutes he would be passing our
place up close and in my little depraved mind I found myself looking
forward to the opportunities that created. Would I really dare to? And
how far would I let this take me?
As I moved up to look out on the street the man was just across the
street and looked straight at me before his doggie urged him on his way.
I had almost blown him a kiss there and then but that was probably a bit
more forward than I dared to be at that moment. Instead I then poured
myself glass of whine and nervously waited for my'beau' to return from
his walk, elegantly moving around the room to the soft tones of 'The Love
Unlimited Orchestra'. By now in such a state of anticipation and sexual
excitement that it actually caused my tightly tucked away boy-genitals to
slowly ooze fluids that made me wet my pretty silky panties in an almost
girly manner. Of course I kept an eye on the street to see if was coming
and when he appeared infront of the house next door I positioned myself
close to the window in a way that looked completely natural and as if I
was only casually interested in the whole thing. It's one of those
ladylike mannerisms one pics up when studying to become a teen-vamp. The
mischievous smile on my face would be saying something different though.
Even when he was still in front of the neighbour's house I noticed he was
furtively looking my way(probably without much success at that angle). I
was standing next to a curtain from where I could give him a perfect
almost close-up view of his ?dol'. So when he appeared and looked
straight at me, I was gently rockin' from side to side, gyrating my
delicate body to the sound of Barry and his orchestra, casually adjusting
a strand of hair and taking a ladylike sip of my drink. My naughty
expression was there, I knew that, but I still didn't look him straight
in the face untill he gave the impression he was moving onward. Thinking
I had lost the moment I smiled my sexiest gurly smile at the already
departing gentleman and when he looked over his shoulder one more time
before returning home, I actually blew him a kiss. And although he looked
back at our place once more, I saw him and the dog go inside and the
doorlight went out.
I was a bit disappointed but also relieved as I also had no idea how to
react as the older man had actually pursued this fantasy..I shivered, and
then the doorlight went on again and out stepped my admirer, this time
without dog and wearing a jacket and tie. And when he starting to walk
over towards our house I almost panicked and I wanted to hide. What the
hell did I think? At that point my devious inner voice took over once
again so when I heard the doorbel ring, it was like I was in a trance of
some sort and I calmly went to answer it . Although almost frightened to
death by my own courage, my wicked inner voice actually made me open the
front door and there in the doorway was our neighbour, mr. Blenkinsop! He
unashamedly stared at me and I stared back, petrified actually. I
couldn't speak, I didn't quite know what to say.
I was still completely out of it when he smiled and asked, "Well hello
there. And who do we have here? What do you call yourself, young lady?"
"Delicia," I stammered.
"That's a very pretty name for a very sexy girl, honey," he said with a
wicked smile on his face.
He then stepped forward and put his hands on my waist, holding me rather
firmly while he was breathing heavily. I knew something was going to
happen that was beyond my control. He pushed me back against the wall
leaning his body against mine. His vainy wrinkly hands holding me were
strong, and his manly strength was strangely exciting to me.
"Oh Mr Blenkinsop!" I mumbled innocently, almost as if in horror, but to
him it must have sounded like a sign of arousal as he pressed himself
even closer against me. I was almost trembling with both fear and
anticipation, and yet I really didn't want to fight it. I was still
highly excited and his masculine body against my slim almost girly frame
just felt so right, despite my feigned horror. It was really just what I
had always wanted to feel, a real man's body against me, his strength
virtually overpowering me. I was completely torn, part of me dying to see
my fantasies realised, and part of me shocked and almost ashamed that I
would ever let something like this happen to me for real.
And I saw the hungry gleam in his eyes when he pushed his quite obviously
rigid manhood against me. The thought that I was able to turn a mature
manly man like him on so much gave me an intense thrill that melted my
last doubts completely, and when his lips came down on mine, I eagerly
opened my mouth to let his thick muscular tongue slip in.
Amazingly, my fantasy was actually happening and it was every bit as
exciting as I'd imagined it would be. Mr. Blenkinsop was so very much
older and the fact that he was almost old enough to be my grandfather was
making this all so deliciously wrong. After passionately making out in
the doorway for what felt like ages, I nervously invited him in. I
couldn't think straight and my heart was pounding . I dizzily led him
into the livingroom where he sat down on the sofa whilst I poured him a
drink before I sat myself down very close beside him. And when I turned
towards him, mr. Blenkinsop caught me once again in a deep and passionate
kiss, driving all rational thought from my mind. The helpless feeling of
the situation flooded me with wild desire to be taken, and I moaned
shamelessly as his tongue explored my mouth. His hands were everywhere
but when he then caressed my smooth stockinged legs under my skirt and
petticoats, I felt like I was losing my virginity there and then. The
ones out there who have experienced it, know what a deliciously intimate
sensation that is....
Of course the night didn't quite end there but a 'lady'has to keep some
things to herself as i'm trying to keep away from the realms of
pornography. Needless to say that my 'boyfriend' went home with a big
smile on his face later that night....
It thrilled me to no end to think that I could inspire such passion in a
mature man. I'm totally convinced he never saw a schoolboy in a pretty
dress when he looked at me. He saw a young and very desirable teenage
seductress, even when he knew about my little deception. In the end
'ladies like us' tend to dicover that the men who are willing to go with
a great illusion over a mediocre reality may well outnumber the others.
I've been there.
Kierra
- 26.10.2020
- 29
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