Femail order part 7
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Femail Order - Part 2 free porn video
As we walked back home I kept thinking about Julie. She had recognised
me. She knew I was male. But she hadn't been fazed to see me in a dress
and heels, showing off my pretty legs, wearing make-up and a far from
boyish hairstyle. On the contrary she had seemed pleased to see me. Was
she pleased to see me as a person, or was she pleased to see me dressed
as a girl? I hoped it might be both. I remembered what we had done on
our dates. What would it have been like if I had been the one wearing a
skirt? I imagined her watching me walking along. Maybe she knew I was
wearing stockings and suspenders under my skirt. I had a vision of
myself lifting my skirt to show her my underwear, and her smiling with
pleasure. My cock started to stiffen.
My erection grew. By the time we had reached my garden gate I was
breathing rather heavily and felt rather flushed. "Are you all right,
dear?" asked Mrs Robinson. Her eyes looked down at the front of my
skirt. "Oh, I see," she said. "I'll help you with that." We went into
her house and put the shopping down. She led me into the kitchen and
she picked up a glass. "Now stand still and hold your skirt up for me."
I could only imagine the view she had of my throbbing cock straining
against my pretty pink knickers. The view that I had been thinking
Julie might have seen. Mrs Robinson pulled my knickers down to my
thighs. Moments later my whole body seemed to go into spasm as she
expertly milked my cock into the glass.
"Now keep holding your skirt up," she instructed. She stood up and put
the glass to my lips. "Drink it all," she said. "Any one of your age
who likes wearing a short skirt and stockings is likely to be familiar
with the taste of cum!" I swallowed. "Good girl," she said. "Now just
stay as you are for a few moments while I clean up your little clitty."
She used a tissue, and then a damp cloth to clean my shrunken cock
before pulling my knickers back up. "Now I want you to use a glass
every time you need to deal with a swelling like that. Milk every drop
into the glass and then drink it all. Remember, swallowing cum will
make you more and more of a sissy. You like being a sissy boy, don't
you?" I nodded.
"And one more thing," she went on. "Sissy boys should have no body hair
except for what is on your head. You can shave your arms and legs, your
chest and your bottom, and your underarms, but you might find it easier
to use the depilatory cream between your legs, front and back. You need
to keep your knickers area a completely hair free zone. Understand?" I
nodded again. "Can't you speak?" she asked. "I need to keep my knickers
area a hair-free zone," I said. "And why?" she asked. "To be a sissy
boy," I replied. She smiled. "Good girl. Now where is that bag of
underwear we bought you?" She accompanied me back to my house. I put
the food shopping into the kitchen. "Now show me your underwear
drawer," she said. I led her to the bedroom and opened the drawer that
contained my male underwear. She removed all my underpants and replaced
them with the newly purchased stack of knickers. "You won't be needing
these any more," she said, putting my male underpants into the carrier
bag to take away with her.
She handed me a small jar of Pond's Cold Cream. "Before you go to bed,
gently massage this in where your make-up is. Then wipe it off with
tissues. It will remove your make-up and leave your skin softer and, in
your case, more sissy." When she left I suddenly realised how tired I
was after such an exciting day. I made myself a light supper. Not long
after I took off my dress and removed my make-up. I felt too tired to
use the depilatory cream, so resolving to remove my body hair next
morning, I slipped off my underwear, put on a nightdress and was asleep
almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.
I slept well and was up early next morning. I opened the pack of
depilatory cream and read the instructions carefully. I decided to use
the cream on my chest, arms and legs as well as my knickers area. I
applied the cream to my legs first, then my chest and arms, leaving
what I thought might be the tenderest parts to last. While I waited for
the cream to do its job, I shaved my face and then my underarms. I'd
never shaved them before and it seemed a particularly feminine thing to
do. I felt a little tingling in my cock, but it wasn't because of the
depilatory cream. I left the cream for the maximum time advised in the
instructions, then stepped into the shower. As I watched the water
running away I realised that I hadn't appreciated how much body hair I
had had. Not now, though. The cream smelt a little strange so I washed
myself with gently scented shower gel, rinsed off, then used the shower
gel again.
As I towelled myself dry, my skin seemed very smooth, soft and white.
As I get dressed there were some new sensations too. My knickers felt
especially silky. I realised that even a small amount of body hair
prevented the sensuous knicker fabric from making proper contact with
the skin of my bottom. Not to mention the direct contact with my
genitals - divine! My legs were now so smooth that I had to fasten my
stockings to my suspenders immediately, otherwise they would slide down
my legs.
I brushed my hair and put on one of my shortest dresses and a pair of
heels. I went down to prepare a light breakfast before starting my
housework. But first of all, remembering Mrs Robinson's instructions, I
placed several glasses at strategic places round the house. I knew that
when the urge came to relieve a swelling I wouldn't want to be
searching round for a glass.
I had just finished hoovering the carpets when the doorbell rang. I
wasn't expecting any visitors. I thought perhaps it was Mrs Robinson
coming to check up on me. I went to the front door and opened it a
crack, standing with my body behind the door so that only my head was
visible round the edge of the door. It wasn't Mrs Robinson - it was
Julie. "Hello Dee, can I come in?" She looked at me with an enquiring
smile. I opened the door and let her in. "Well, you're looking very
pretty, darling," she said, "and showing even more of your lovely legs
than yesterday!" "Er, can I offer you a drink?" I asked nervously. "A
glass of wine would be nice," she replied, "or maybe a gin and tonic?"
I went to the kitchen. There wasn't any wine open, so I prepared two
gin and tonics and took them through to the lounge. Julie was sitting
on the settee and indicated that I should come and sit next to her.
"Cheers!" she said, and we clinked our glasses. "I didn't realise you
liked girly things," she said, and went on to ask how long this had
been the case. I admitted that as a teenager I had been jealous of the
pretty underwear that my sister got to wear compared to the boring
white underpants that I had. I had occasionally "borrowed" a pair of
her knickers to try on. "And did they need washing afterwards?" giggled
Julie. I admitted that they usually did. I went on to explain that I
did sometimes wear women's clothes in the privacy of my own home.
"Well, you weren't in the privacy of your own home yesterday when I saw
you," she said. I explained that Mrs Robinson had discovered my little
secret and had somehow induced me to go out with her and her daughter.
"She has quite a strong personality," I said. "I think dominant is the
word you're looking for," chuckled Julie. "But I think you'll find that
most women can be dominant if there is a sissy boy to be taken in
hand." So saying she put one arm around my shoulders and rested her
other hand on the inside of my knee. She drew me to her and we kissed
briefly. Her hand moved further up my skirt. "Oh yes, boys prefer
stockings to tights, don't they?" she giggled. Her fingers caressed my
hairless thigh. My cock stiffened. We kissed again and her fingers
touched my cock through my knickers. My erection grew. Her tongue
pushed into my mouth and at the same time her fingers stroked the end
of my cock. Her synchronised movements made me imagine that the cock
that was being stroked was what was being forced into my mouth.
She obviously realised that I was close to orgasm, because she stood up
and pulled me to my feet. She took me across to the table. "I guess
that this glass is here ready for use," she said. "Hold your skirt up."
So I found myself in the same situation that I had been the previous
evening. Standing, holding my skirt up, with my knickers pulled down to
my thighs, while expert fingers brought me to a climax, then milked out
every last drop as my cock shrunk down. "Keep holding your skirt up
until I've cleaned you up," she said. She stood up and held the glass
in one hand. She made a fist with the other hand, then straightened her
middle finger. She dipped her finger into the cum in the glass. "Suck
my finger," she ordered. The symbolism was obvious. She dipped her
finger in the glass several times for me to lick and suck, before
handing me the glass to drain. "Swallow it all," she said. "Now I'll
give you a little treat." She knelt down in front of me. I felt her
fingers drawing back my foreskin. Then I realised she was cleaning the
end of my cock with her mouth. But my cock stayed small and shrivelled
after the ball-draining climax I had just experienced. She pulled my
knickers back up and stood up. "Poor Dee," she said. "You look
exhausted." She gave me a hug and I was very conscious of her breasts
pressing against my body.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she said. "I brought you a little present." From
her handbag she reached out a lipstick. "It's a subdued shade, close to
your natural lip colour," she said. "It'll hardly be noticeable. But
you'll be able to taste it. Do you know how to use it properly?" She
made me practise a couple of times until she was satisfied with the
results. "Now purse your lips ready to kiss," she instructed. "That's
right. Now down on your knees. She lifted her skirt to reveal that she
was also wearing stockings. "Kiss my knickers," she said. "You know
where." She parted her lags and thrust her pelvis forward. "I put on
white knickers so that your lipstick would show clearly where you
kissed me." Her crotch was warm and moist. And yes, my lipstick did
leave a clear imprint.
"Thank you, Dee," she said as I stood up. "I probably won't wash these
knickers now. I'll keep them as a reminder of today! But now I must go
to work. I'm working 12 till 4 today. I'm sure you've got plenty of
housework to finish anyway. Bye now." And she left. I couldn't help
wondering. Was it just a coincidence? Or did she know about the routine
of milking me into a glass while I held up my skirt?
I went to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. I felt tired after my
encounter with Julie. No doubt the gin and tonic was also a
contributing factor. I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of being Julie's
girl-friend. She would show me off to her friends as her property. And
her roaming hands would reach up my skirt whenever a more-or-less
private opportunity arose...
It was mid-afternoon when I woke. At first I was disoriented - I wasn't
used to sleeping during the day and for a moment wondered why I was
lying on a bed while wearing a dress. Then, of course, I remembered. I
got up and checked my appearance in the mirror. My lipstick was a
little smudged and my dress was creased where I had been lying on it.
Now it would need ironing! I remembered that I still had shirts to iron
ready for work next week. I went and got out the ironing-board and
plugged in the iron. While it was warming up I attended to my lipstick.
I ironed some shirts, then took off my dress to iron that as well. It
was just then that the phone rang.
It was my mother. We didn't talk often since I'd left home. Mother
mostly rang to tell me how well my sister was doing, and this time it
was that my sister had started a new job. My sister was the favoured
one. I think Mother would have preferred me to have been another
daughter. While she prattled on with endless boring details about the
new job, I wondered what she would think if she could see me now in bra
and knickers, stockings and heels, with my dress on the ironing-board.
I guessed she would probably sneer at me for being a sissy. Eventually
she stopped talking about my sister. "I suppose you're just lazing
about," she said. I replied that I was doing my ironing. "Oh, quite a
little housewife, aren't you?" She sounded sarcastic. "Or a housemaid,
perhaps." She laughed and rang off.
The thought of being a maid stayed with me as I ironed my dress.
Perhaps there would be a suitable uniform in one of Mrs Robinson's mail
order catalogues. The idea kept coming back to me as I finished my
other housework and had a meal. Perhaps I would be Mrs Robinson's maid.
Or perhaps it would be Julie giving the orders? And watching me as I
carried out my duties in a tiny skirt, showing my knickers every time I
bent over to do a little dusting...
By the time I was ready to go to bed my cock was straining at the front
of my knickers like a tent pole. I took off my dress and hung it up,
not wanting to crease it again. I picked up the glass from beside my
bed. Moments later, I was swallowing the contents of the glass. I was a
good girl, obeying instructions. My Mistress's instructions. But was my
mistress Mrs Robinson? Or Julie? I was soon asleep.
Jo
- 05.05.2022
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