Jennie Julie Attack of the Giant Women
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Jennie From The Block free porn video
I took a big breath and an even bigger sip of champagne to calm my nerves.
I was about to begin my ritual of transformation, but tonight was special.
Tonight was Halloween, and for the first time, if everything went
according to plan, someone other than myself and a few anonymous internet
strangers would see me as a girl.
With shaking hands, I donned a wig cap and put on my favorite long brown
wig, combed to lustrous perfection specifically for tonight. Adjusting the
floral scented mass of hair, I made sure that the bangs were at the right
level to frame my eyes, my best feature, before pinning it in place. With
every movement, the long feminine waves stroked and caressed my skin, and
I shivered delightfully at the unfamiliar feeling. My thick brown tresses
reached almost to my waist, and normally I would wait until my makeup and
outfit were on before putting them on. But for tonight I wanted to be
fully immersed in my transformation, to truly feel like a girl getting
sexy for her night out on the town. Looking at my naked, freshly shaved
body in the mirror, I was not particularly feminine without makeup, though
the long hair did lend me an air of girlishness. Of course, there was
nothing girly about the large cock between my legs, which in anticipation
of dressing up had already begun to swell. Crap. I was running behind
schedule and didn't have time to finish myself off, so I quickly tucked it
between my legs and pulled up a tight pair of black lace panties to keep
everything in place. I then fished around in my drawer for the matching
black lace bra and expertly put it on, snapping the clasps closed behind
my back. I was fairly thin, and the bra gave me enough of an illusion of
breasts for the aesthetic that I was looking for so I opted not to go
through the whole hassle of breastforms.
With that taken care of, I began to work on my face. Tweezing a few loose
eyebrows, I then carefully applied a thick layer of concealer and then
foundation. While I didn't have particularly thick facial hair or bad
skin, I decided that there would be no need for subtlety on Halloween and
it would be safer to go for a heavily made-up look. Hopefully, it wouldn't
be particularly out of place with everyone in costume. Next came a rosy
blush, carefully applied eyebrow pencil, and a generous amount of black
eyeshadow, before I traced out a dramatic cat-eye with thick black
eyeliner. By now, all of this was routine for me, as I dressed up whenever
I had free time, and even with excited, shaking, hands, my makeup was
still flawless.
I then puckered up my lips and applied a deep scarlet lipstick, before
applying a thin layer of glue to my false eyelashes and gently sticking
them to my eyelash line. As I waited for them to dry, I got out a kit of
French manicured press-on nail tips and began sticking them onto my nails.
The length of the undeniably feminine nails also forced me to change the
way I picked up and held things. I caught a glimpse of myself in the
mirror: small, manicured hands delicately holding a bottle of Victoria's
Secret body mist and spraying it in my hair, across my chest, wrists, and
across the front of my bulging panties. A girl had to smell perfect
everywhere, after all. I added a pair of large, hoop earrings to my
pierced ears, enjoying the weight they added to my earlobes and the way
they forced my head to move more femininely. Finally, it was time for the
costume: a lacy, incredibly detailed French maid costume. With intricate
stitching and detail, the dress ran tight across the chest, with puffy
shoulders and no sleeves. The built-in petticoat swirled with my every
move, and the short skirt compelled a viewer to admire my legs--my best
feature. Being designed for a shorter girl, the dress barely covered my
butt.
I stepped into the dress, the fabric whispering as it slid across my skin.
The sensual, erotic touch of feminine materials and the constricting
feeling once the dress was zipped up was everything I loved about
crossdressing. I didn't understand how men's clothing could be so boring
in comparison. I then sat on my bed, and relished the alien sensation of
having my panty-clad butt directly against the sheets. My dress was that
short. As I began rolling a pair of black, frilly stockings up my legs, I
bemoaned how garter belts did not play well with my boyish hips, but these
stay-up stockings were pretty cute, and I loved how the ruffles at the top
rubbed against my thighs when I walked.
For a finishing touch, I stepped into a chunky pair of black, three-inch
Mary-Janes. I had sexier shoes with thinner, higher heels, that I would
have loved to show off, but after giving it some thought decided I didn't
want to risk tripping and falling all night. I was barely accustomed to
walking in heels on the flat, even floor of my apartment, much less the
rugged sidewalks of the city. The black suede enveloped my stockinged feet
tightly and I once again delighted in the constricting feeling.
As I carefully stood up, I marveled at how a simple shoe completely
transformed my posture. To balance, I had to stick my pert butt out while
keeping my back arched. I instinctively turned my wrists outwards as I
held my arms close to my body and I carefully teetered to the floor-length
mirror. In it, stood a young French maid. Her big doe-eyes peered
innocently behind brown bangs, though the stark red of her cheeks and lips
suggested something other than innocence. Her chest was small beneath her
dress, but her gorgeously long legs, on full display, more than made for
it.
I beamed and the girl in the mirror beamed back. Of all the times I had
transformed, this was definitely the most successful, and I couldn't have
done a better job for my public debut. Grabbing a small black purse with
my keys, some cash, and a tube of lipstick inside, I minced to the door,
heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor. My stomach roiled with
nervousness, but I decisively stepped through the doorway and out onto the
street before I could convince himself that this was a terrible idea.
It was warm for October, and a slight breeze flitted past my exposed
thighs. I instinctively grabbed my skirt to keep it from flying up and
giving the passing revelers an eyeful. I was terrified but exhilarated.
Here I was in full feminine glory for the world to see. My mind was blank
as I could distinctly feel every single feminine sensation on my body: the
tightness of the bra and panties, the skirt rustling against my exposed
thighs, the comforting embrace of my heels, the long hair against my face,
neck and shoulders...it was overwhelming.
A couple walking by dressed as Batman and Wonder Woman briefly stopped
their conversation to look at me. I froze like a deer in headlights,
preparing to be outed as an imposter or pervert. Instead, the guy winked
slyly at me as his girlfriend gave me a scathing look of envy. It dawned
on me that not only was I passing, I was doing so with flying colors.
Blushing, I grinned to myself and with sensual clicking, strode down the
entryway onto the sidewalk. I could feel eyes on me, lusting, envious,
interested, curious, eyes. It was then I realized that I was an attention
whore, and that being in the spotlight was causing an uncomfortable
tightness in my panties. I loved being seen as a sexy, desirable girl, and
I loved that I was hiding a dirty secret beneath my skirt. With growing
confidence, I made my way toward the neighborhood club, stumbling once or
twice from cracks in the pavement. But I quickly found my balance by
swinging my hips as I walked. I was a natural. Everywhere I went, people
stared, but from what I could tell it wasn't because they suspected that I
was a boy, but because of the indecent length of my skirt and my mile-long
legs.
As I turned the block to the club, my heart sank. The line was easily
fifty people long. Costumed clubbers looked annoyed as they waited or
called people on their phones, checking the status of other venues. By the
time I waited out the line the club would be closed, plus the idea of just
standing in line like so much fresh meat made me nervous. The booming
bassline echoed in the packed street.
I sighed and turned around, ready to call my adventure short. That was
when I ran face-first into the bare chest of a muscular Spartan warrior.
Even in my heels, he towered over me, rippling muscles gleaming in the low
light of the street lamps. The leather armor around his hips and
emphasized his defined abs and bulging, muscular thighs. This was a true
male specimen, and I knew that I, in my revealing dress and dainty heels,
would never be able to match up.
"I'm so sorry!" I squeaked involuntarily.
He grinned, eyes scanning me up and down, taking mental inventory of my
appearance.
"Don't wanna wait in line? My friends have a table."
My mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. I had planned only on checking
out the club, being seen, maybe getting a drink, and leaving quickly. I
had not intended on speaking with anybody, much less sit at a table with
strangers who didn't know I wasn't a real girl. I froze with indecision.
But the guy grabbed my manicured hand with a strong grip and began leading
me towards the front of the line.
"Come on, it'll be fun."
I was utterly powerless to resist, even if I had wanted to, my small hand
completely engulfed by his massive palm. And admittedly, I didn't know
what I wanted. Though I had my share of sex toys and the occasional wild
fantasy, I had never seriously thought about what it'd be like with a man.
As I tottered behind the Spartan in my unfamiliar heels, as helpless as a
toddler in his grip, I heard murmurs from girls who had been waiting in
line for a while.
"Fucking slut."
Rather than making me feel ashamed, it was strangely empowering, knowing
that just my sexy appearance was enough to gain free admittance to a
packed club. I wondered what else I could get. The guy squeezed my hand as
we reached the huge bouncer at the front of the line, and I squeezed back
involuntarily.
He released me as he grinned and grasped the bouncer's hand, the two big
men slapping each other on
the back. I crossed by arms as I stood by awkwardly.
"Kyle, you asshole. You're late, the table's inside already."
"I know, traffic was a bitch. You know how it is."
"Yeah, yeah, who's your friend? Is she on the list?"
They both turned to look at me. The bouncer's cool gaze dissected me
slowly, and I couldn't tell if he was eyeing me for contraband out of
habit or undressing me in his mind. I shivered.
Before I could say anything, Kyle answered, "Nah, just a friend. I owe you
one."
"Management's been all over my ass about capacity but they ain't
complaining about a girl this fine," he said, winking at me and unclipping
the red cordon.
I blushed, both at the suggestiveness in his gaze and the way he casually
referred to me as a girl. Kyle casually slipped an arm around my thin
waist and I clumsily tottered against his chest, heels clicking. We headed
inside the dark club as the bouncer yelled at some people at the front of
the line who were complaining about our expedited entry.
"I'm Kyle, by the way," he said, looking down at me with cool blue eyes,
and giving my waist another squeeze. He really did have very nice
features.
"Jennie," I said breathlessly. It felt so strange to be clutching at the
muscular chest of another man. But I wasn't as grossed out as I thought I
would be, and dressed from head to toe like a deliciously slutty maid, it
felt oddly appropriate. We shoved our way through the crowd to reach a
table full of very attractive twenty-somethings, in various stages of
inebriation. They seemed to be having fun, and mostly ignored us. Given
the loudness of the music, Kyle only introduced me to the pretty blonde
dressed as a cheerleader sitting at the end of the table, before heading
to the other end of the table to say hi to his friends. She scooted in to
make space for me and I squeezed down next to her with great difficulty,
careful not to flash the secret under my skirt to the entire table.
"I love your dress," Amy, the cheerleader screamed into my ear. "It looks
really good on you." I smiled. She seemed nice, and pressed up against her
I could feel her smooth, bare thighs against mine. Even through the heavy
odors of sweat and alcohol, I could smell her body lotion.
"Thanks, I love the scent on your lotion." I said easily, as if I had been
making girly small talk all my life.
"It's lavender, right?"
"Oh my god, yes! It's my favorite, do you want to try some?"
Before I could answer she turned around to grab a small tube out of her
purse and squirted some on her palm. Smiling, she rubbed her palms
together before grabbing my hands and massaging the lotion into my skin.
It felt amazing. In fact, the sight of the friendly blonde cheerleader
intently rubbing lotion on my small manicured hands was a little too
amazing, and I felt my cock hardening in between my legs, threatening to
spring free from its lacy confines. And with my skirt practically riding
up to my hips when seated, there was nothing to hide it. Fuck, fuck fuck!
I put my purse over the tent in my panties and tried to stand up to head
to the bathroom.
At that moment, Kyle returned, and once again I ran face-first into his
chiseled pecs. He smoothly caught my waist with one arm, swirling me
around until I regained my footing in my precariously high heels. Damn guy
was way too smooth, I thought, as Amy smiled knowingly up at me.
"Let's go dance," Kyle said, pulling me close. With only a small leather
purse separating my rock hard cock from this giant, hunky man, I was too
terrified to say anything. But just like earlier, he took command of the
situation before I could react, and I unconsciously submitted. As he
gently steered me toward the crowded dance floor, I briefly took stock of
my situation. Dressed like a complete slut, with an objectively gorgeous
man, in one of the most popular clubs in the city. Which girl wouldn't
love to be in my heels?
The dance floor was packed, but we somehow found an empty spot in the
corner and Kyle positioned himself directly behind me and began grinding
on me. With the front of my body against the back of a booth, I was no
longer in danger of being discovered, and as I relaxed I intuitively began
swaying my hips to the beat and leaned back into Kyle's warm, broad chest.
He leaned down and I could hear him panting into my ear. I responded by
reaching a slim arm backwards and grabbing his neck, like I had seen girls
do before. Never had I thought that I'd be the one doing it. His breathing
grew more ragged as he began nibbling on my ear, and I could feel firm
begin pressing into my butt even through the fabric of my dress. Was he
getting an erection?
In the back of my mind I knew that most guys would probably get aroused if
a "girl" looking the way I did was grinding on his junk, but to actually
be there doing it in such a public place was something else altogether.
This handsome, desirable man had no idea that I was actually a boy, and
wanted my body, wanted me. I bit my lip as Kyle leaned in for a kiss. Did
I want this? Did I dare to want this? My body answered with a will of its
own, and I parted my mouth as Kyle's lips met mine, offering no resistance
as his tongue darted around mine. He tasted like whisky. I moaned
involuntarily, and his erection twitched at the girlish sound. The idea
that I had this man so aroused was turning me on so much, and my own cock,
which had stayed half hard when we were dancing, was now jutting out of my
panties and leaking precum. Fuck, I didn't want to chance discovery so I
pressed myself against the booth, my cock now hidden between the folds of
my skirt and the wood paneling. On the other side, a packed table of guys
was downing shots. One bearded guy, not in costume, saw my head over the
top of the booth and raised his glass, smiling. But he then noticed the
giant hunk gnawing at my ear and averted his eyes, scowling.
At this point, Kyle's erection had grown so stiff that it was
uncomfortable for me. But we were making out like teenagers, devouring
each other, and I didn't want to ruin the moment, so without thinking too
much about it I reached back with my free hand to try to shift things
around. To my surprise, my small hand was greeted by the warm, veiny
sensation of Kyle's naked cock. It must have slipped out from under his
costume. I squealed in surprise as Kyle grunted into my mouth.
"Yeah, baby, stroke it," he murmured.
I looked around frantically, and realized that not only were we fairly
isolated, most of the club's patrons were completely inebriated at this
point and nobody was paying attention to some couple necking in the
corner. Even had I been a real girl, it would have been shameless and
perverted to rub a guy off in a packed club...but my hand started moving
on its own. Feeling so desired and so sexy had released some animal within
me. I didn't realize how much I wanted to be wanted, and to satisfy that
itch I was willing to do anything, even jerk off some guy I had just met.
Fortunately, Amy had been generous with her hand lotion, and Kyle's
massive cock was soon slick with it, making my job much easier. Even
though my dainty hand could not fully encircle Kyle's beast, I knew from
years of playing with my cock how to alternate between stroking the shaft
and rubbing the tip. Kyle groaned as I picked up the pace, pulling his
face away from mine. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the
bearded dude from earlier was looking at us suspiciously, which for some
reason turned me on even more. I knew what I was about to do was
incredibly dangerous, but I was out of my mind with horniness at that
point. This was my chance to experience the real thing, and not just some
silicone cock.
"Hey," I began, slowing down my stroking. Kyle opened his eyes, looking
frustrated that I had stopped.
"Do you wanna fuck?"
At this, his eyes lit up.
"Fuck yeah, let's go back to my-"
I put a finger to his lips. "No, right here, baby."
He looked flabbergasted. He probably didn't think that he would actually
score with a "girl" as hot as I was, and the risky, exhibitionist
suggestion was at complete odds with my demure, submissive demeanor up
until that point.
"I mean, there're a lot of people around and-" he stammered.
Taking a book out of his page, I grabbed his cock, slick with lotion and
precum, and began easing it under the hem of my short dress and past the
thin cotton of my panties, into my puckered, eager asshole.
"Oh fuccckkkk," Kyle stopped protesting.
"I'm on my period, but you can fuck my ass, baby," I cooed, biting my lip
and looking up at him through my thick false lashes.
He didn't say anything, just grabbed my waist with both hands and began
thrusting forward. I put both hands against the booth and pushed back.
Slowly, I could feel the mushroom head of his giant cock work its way past
my sphincter. Even though it was fairly well-lubricated, the sheer size of
Kyle's cock was stretching out my hole beyond even what my largest toy was
capable of. It fucking hurt, and I could feel tears beginning to form.
Just when I was regretting my brazenness, the tip slipped into my ass with
an audible pop. I almost passed out at the sensation.
It was so different from a toy! I felt full, complete, like this was where
I was meant to be. Why else did I doll myself up, if not to make real men
desire me? Why else did I decide to venture out, if not to be seen, and to
be fucked? This was everything I had been missing out on. I couldn't
believe that I had lived this long without a real cock in my ass.
Now that the hard part was over, Kyle really began to pump his hips,
either consciously or not, in time with the music. I stifled a moan as
more and more of his shaft entered me. After what felt like an eternity, I
felt his balls slap against my ass cheeks, and I knew that he was fully
inside me.
"You're so fucking sexy, Jennie," he panted. "God, and so tight."
I bit my lip and wordlessly began thrusting by hips back every time he
thrust forward, so that he would hit even deeper. As the music
transitioned to a faster song, and we really began picking up the pace, I
realized that each thrust was literally taking me off my heels and onto my
toes. Every time this happened, I would yelp a little as he hit my
prostate and made me feel something I had never felt before. Was this what
being a girl felt like? I felt powerless yet empowered, impaled on the
thick shaft of this masculine specimen. A warm feeling began building up
in the back of my stomach, and with each thrust the feeling grew and grew
until it drowned out every other sensation in my body, even the warmth of
Kyle's legs against mine, his hand fondling my bra, the damp hair in my
face. There was nothing else, only this incredible warmth.
I didn't want this feeling of union and belonging to end, but I could feel
Kyle's already-massive cock begin to grow even bigger.
"Wait, are you cu-"
Without warning, Kyle began shooting stream upon stream of his cum into my
bowels. At the sudden injection of fluid I had an almost uncontrollable
urge to go to the bathroom, but this feeling subsided as it began to
trickle out of my ass and onto the floor. This virile man had filled my
pussy with his masculine seed, and I would never be the same. I was truly
a girl now, his girl.
At this thought, my own cock gave a weak spurt into my panties. It wasn't
even hard. I had tried, but never cum from my ass before, and I was
completely exhausted. I would have slumped to my knees had I not been
leaning against the wood of the booth.
I could feel him inside me still as he caught his breath, and when he
pulled out of my ass I suddenly felt empty, and sad. But that feeling
disappeared as quickly as it came when he put his arms around me, pulling
me close against his chest. He brushed my long hair aside and kissed my
neck.
"You're amazing."
I giggled. "No, you are."
"Oh, barf." I turned around in shock at Amy's voice.
"If you two lovebirds are done making out, we're headed to the afterparty
at my place," she said, materializing out of the crowd. "There'll be
alllllcoholllll!"
She didn't act like she had seen any of the rough anal fucking that had
just occurred, but her knowing glance at the cum trickling down my thighs,
a mixture of Kyle's and my own, suggested otherwise.
"Sounds good to me, babe?" Kyle asked, nibbling on my ear again.
Ugh, how could I ever say no to this guy? It occurred to me that passing
as a girl in a crowded, dimly lit club was very different from passing in
a house, but I had just been fucked silly, so like a silly girl I agreed.
Little did I know how this would change my life forever.
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