Lockdown Four Vignettes
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The Lockdown Shemale Version free porn video
This is another version of my story about the Lockdown
Whenever a new tenant moves into one of the adjoining flats I’m always interested in who they are, and with good reason. Living in a flat in a converted house (in my case a turn of the last century, three storey terraced townhouse) anti-social neighbours are the last thing I needed. I’ve lived in flats since I was 21 with my current one situated on a tree-lined road around the corner from Cardiff’s Roath recreation Ground. It was my fourth and in the three previous ones I’d had my share of noisy neighbours, playing music until all hours of the night, loudly. Thankfully, since moving into the flat on the hill this hadn’t been an issue. I lived in what I regarded as the best of the four flats in the building, the other three – two on the ground floor and one on the top floor were all either studio flats or one bedroom affairs with a combined living room and kitchen. In contrast mine had two bedrooms and a separate kitchen & living room/dining room.
I’d also been blessed with considerate neighbours since moving here two years previous. With the rear ground-floor flat, situated beneath my bathroom and second bedroom which I used as a large walk-in cupboard, the tenant’s behaviour was largely irrelevant. At the current time it was a rather frumpy, twenty-something Canadian woman named ‘Heather’ studying at one of the universities in Cardiff. As for the other two sets of tenants, the front flat was occupied by a rather quiet man of about my age (thirty) named ‘Darren’ who had lived there a year and who had recently got a new boyfriend with whom he was spending most of his time at their place.
That left the top-floor flat. Until the end of January it had been occupied by a couple in their early to mid-twenties – ‘Jake’ & ‘Zoë’ and for the most part they’d been quiet, apart from their love-making which was anything but quiet. But that wasn’t an issue with me. Quite the contrary I loved listening to them screwing and had many a memorable wank lying in bed listening to them. I especially liked it when I heard Zoë talking dirty as Jake fucked her. Even though I could only hear and not see them, it was better than watching porn. And believe me I often wished I’d had the courage to walk up the fire escape on the rear of the building and peer into their bedroom window and see what they were up to. When they’d moved out I was really going to miss that aspect about them.
Now, late on the morning of the last Saturday in February I happened to look out my window and beheld the site of a white van parked on the hill outside the flat and three people hefting boxes down the garden path to the door. There were clearly two men, one silver-haired in his fifties, the other in his twenties, but the third person in the group I was initially too late to see as they’d already walked past my line of sight to the front door. After a moment, having propped open the front door they reappeared and at first, through the nets hanging in my window for privacy my heart gave a leap as I beheld what I thought was a woman of about my age with long blonde hair in a ponytail. They wore a grey sweater under a pale-blue denim jacket and matching boot cut jeans. However, upon closer examination I could see it was a man, though it wasn’t difficult to see why I’d mistaken them. Their face was smooth shaven and had a woman’s pointed chin. Even thought I saw what looked like breasts where their chest was, but I must have been wrong.
As the trio began making trips upstairs with the belongings of which one(s) of them were moving in I could hear snippets of conversation through the door, and although one of them was soft, they were all clearly men’s voices. Around mid-afternoon I saw the two men I’d seen initially walking down the path, having closed the front door the middle-aged one turned and looked up at the building. Instinctively I stood back from the window, even though he couldn’t see me through the nets and I could see him wave. He and his companion climbed into the van and then drove off. I didn’t see anything or hear much of the new arrival. A few days later I happened to see some post – presumably bills addressed to flat four and discovered his name was ‘Gareth O’Rourke’.
And then along came the Corona Virus pandemic and the associated lockdown. Darren decided to stay with his new man and Heather took a flight back to Canada before they were suspended. Since this was my home, I chose to stay, especially as it would have been impractical to stay with my parents. Instead we spoke to each other via phone everyday, taking it in turns to call. As for Gareth, he chose to stay as well. I would see him going for walks to the nearby Roath Recreation Ground around the corner; at least I guessed that’s where he was going. That’s was as far as I ever dared to go. The only other times I left the flat was to walk to the shops in nearby Albany Road, or if I was feeling adventurous, a large Sainsbury’s supermarket on Colchester Avenue, fifteen minutes walk away.
It was the last Friday in March, a week after the full lockdown had been imposed that the incident I wish to share with you happened. Like many people I’d ordered things online and was awaiting a couple of parcels – mainly Blu-Rays and a new pair of flip-flops which I wore in lieu of slippers around the flat. So when the buzzer to my flat sounded and the person on the intercom identified themselves as having a parcel, I put on a pair of surgical gloves I’d had the foresight to bulk-buy immediately prior to the lockdown and raced downstairs. I opened the front door and picked the parcel up from the porch where the delivery person had left it. They were keeping a respectful distance roughly midway along the path when I opened the door and after saying thanks, they left.
I returned to my flat and noticed that the parcel was an A4-sized cardboard envelope which bulged about a centimetre in thickness near its centre. With my gloved hands I opened the package, which wasn’t difficult and stared in dismay at the contents. Two squares of cardboard wrapped in see-through cellophane bearing the logo of a well-known brand of nylons stared back at me. In both instances an attractive white woman in her twenties wearing a matching bra and panty set was present on the front. In one she wore a pair of black, crotchless fishnet tights. In the other a pair of red sheer-to-waste ones (in so much as any crotchless tights which in the case of these were essentially stockings with a built-in suspender belt made of nylon, could be classed as ‘sheer-to-waste’).
I considered all the possibilities; a prank gift from one of my friends (or my ex) who knew that I had a bit of ‘a thing’ for tights, or possibly it was simply sent to the wrong address. I then realised to my horror, I hadn’t checked the address label. Maybe it was for one of the other tenants! I sheepishly looked at the invoice inside, a piece of A5 paper folded in two. I considered it could be for Heather who’d ordered it before her last-minute flight to be with her family in Canada. She’d simply forgotten to cancel/redirect it. But in the eight months since she’d moved in I’d only ever seen her in a dress or skirt a couple of times, that was in summer and she’d been best as I could tell, bare-legged. She could of course wear tights under the many trousers or jeans she routinely wore instead of socks, but somehow I doubted it. I even considered that Zoë who’d recently moved out of flat four had ordered them. I’d certainly seen her in nylons, not often, but she did wear them. Perhaps there’d either been quite a delay in delivering them, or she’d not updated her contact details on whatever online retailer she’d ordered them from.
As I slowly unfolded the invoice and caught my first glimpse of the address, my second theory that it was for Zoë appeared to be born out when I saw ‘Flat Four’. But then I saw the name: ‘Mr. G. O’Rourke’. As I puzzled it out, I heard a creaking floorboard coming from the flat above, reminding me of the situation and I resolved to take the package upstairs. I first applied some Prit-Stick as best I could to the once sticky flap and whilst rehearsing my excuse for opening it headed upstairs to flat four. During my time living in the building I’d visited each of the other flats a couple of times, in the case of flat four it was between Boxing Day & New Years Eve when Zoë & Jake had invited me up for coffee one morning.
I paused outside the door and composed myself before knocking decisively on it. There was a moment’s pause before I heard footsteps and a chain being put on before the door opened as far as the chain would let it before going taut and Gareth’s face appeared in the three inch gap.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hi, I’m Pete from flat three downstairs. I think this belongs to you.” I handed him the parcel through the gap and he took it from me. At which point, as if it couldn’t have been better choreographed, my feeble efforts at resealing the parcel gave up the ghost and the two packs of tights fell to the floor, followed a moment later by the invoice which floated down in sympathy after them, watched by both Gareth and myself. After a moment we made eye contact and I said, “I may have accidentally opened it, thinking it was for me.”
“Clearly it wasn’t.” Gareth’s tone of voice demonstrated a mixture of irritation and annoyance at this turn of events.
“Sorry.” was all I could sheepishly manage.
Gareth stooped down and picked up the nylons and the invoice, hefting them in his one hand.
“Well, I guess you’re going to have to come in now, there’s nothing else for it.” I felt unsure to say the least about this as Gareth took the door off the chain opened it wide. I suppose I could have hidden behind the whole ‘social distancing’ advice and passed on his offer until after the lockdown, by which time he’d have either calmed down, or better yet forgotten the invitation. Nevertheless, the smile he then sported as the door was opened and his next words reassured me that I wasn’t in trouble,
“I’m Gareth by the way and I suppose you’re entitled to an explanation.” He gestured to his purchase.
“Only if you feel you have to.” I said as we shook hands. I walked into the flat and noted that he only closed the door and didn’t lock it. The room was as I remembered it from my prior visit, minus personal items and ‘nick knacks’ belonging to Jake & Zoë of course. It was smaller than my flat, lacking the large, circular bay window and he had the roof visibly sloping near the top of the ceiling.
As I took in my bearings, I also took in my host. He was about 5”6 (I’m 5”9) and was slim, with feminine curves in all the right places, including his chest and smooth, shapely legs. None of this required Superman’s X-Ray vision to see as all he wore was a short, silk dressing gown in navy-blue, tied with a sash! What’s more his hair was down and d****d over his shoulders. It reminded me of the style my ex had worn for much of our time together – straight and centre-parted.
“Forgive my attire, or rather lack thereof, but I didn’t expect visitors, at least not in the present circumstances.” I got the impression that he’d been naked this whole time, putting the dressing gown on purely for my benefit, which given that he’d been alone and the flat was quite a pleasant temperature was his prerogative. He sat in a black leather executive chair in front of a computer and spun it round to face me, unselfconsciously affording me a glimpse of his flaccid cock.
Seeing my reaction he crossed his legs and pulled at the ‘hem’ of his gown.
“Are you settling in?” I asked him.
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much?” I prodded him.
“Well it’s rather awkward. But Darren, the guy in flat one?”
“What about him?”
“He’s seeing an old boyfriend of mine. I didn’t find out until it was too late” He replied.
“Ouch.” I responded.
“Thank God for this lockdown and his buggering off to spend it shacked up with my ex. Lord knows what I’m going to do if my ex ever comes over to stay with him.”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ll want to hear this, but I think things are pretty serious between them. He’s hardly spent anytime here these past couple of months.” I said. He nodded his head and then got up and disappeared into the kitchen.
“How do you take it?” He called from there.
“What?”
“Your coffee.” He replied appearing in the doorway. He had a grin on his face to telegraph the obvious double entendre.
“I prefer tea, and I take that with milk and two-and-a-half heaped spoonfuls.”
“Coming right up.” I heard humming and hot drink making sounds before he repaired carrying a small tray with two steaming-hot mugs of liquid and a small plate of assorted biscuits. I was rather ashamed of the pig I made of myself when I took more than my fair share of the biscuits. Gareth for his part didn’t mind, I think he had two. I sipped at my drink, but it was still too hot to drink down, though it tasted good.
“Anyhow, getting back to your question. Beyond the fact that I’ll probably run into my ex one of these days, I think everything’s going fine. How long have you been here, and do you like it?”
I told him I’d been here more than two years and I found everything to my liking.
“Now, I promised you an explanation about these.” He held the packs of tights’ up.
“Look, I’ve a pretty good idea.” I replied.
“Do tell, and I’ll let you know if you’re right.” Our drinks had cooled sufficiently that we could drink them in one go, or at least a few gulps. Finishing mine off I said:
“You either bought them for someone else, perhaps as a birthday present…”
“Or?” Gareth coaxed.
“Or, you bought them to wear yourself.”
“Would you be shocked if I told you it was answer number two?” He pushed.
“Well I didn’t react when you casually slipped into the conversation that you’re gay, or at least like men. So…”
As I trailed off he seemed to come to a decision. Noting that we’d finished our drinks he took the tray and contents back into the kitchen and with an “I’ll be right back.” walked into his bedroom with the tights. My initial feelings of unease returned at this point, but I just couldn’t tear myself away. I think by then I knew that there was a good chance he was going to proposition me sexually and hell, if I was right, I wasn’t going to argue. I’d had a fantasy about screwing a TV/CD/Trans person, well at least a convincing looking one and it had been ages since I’d last had sex with anyone, so, why not especially with this lockdown looking like it was going to last for a few months.
I heard the sound of drawers being opened and closed and then, after a few minutes he reappeared. To say it was a transformation would be an understatement. It was worthy of the old ‘Stars in Their Eyes’ TV show with Matthew Kelly, only without the ‘dry ice’ and razzmatazz. When he emerged he was, well if it weren’t for the manhood between his legs, a she. His hair was combed out. He wore fake eyelashes and expertly applied make-up including lipstick, eye shadow and puff on his cheeks. Clothes-wise he was naked, save for the black crotchless fishnets and some black stilettos.
“Do you like?” I wore only a pair of jogging bottoms – no underpants, a t-shirt and the afore-mentioned flip-flops; he could see the bulge in my groin and the small wet patch from my pre-cum, “I guess you do.” He said. At that I stood up from the red leather two-seater settee I’d been sitting and casually removed my clothes and stood before him naked my cock standing proudly to attention with pre-cum dripping off the end of it. Without saying another word I walked towards them and taking them in my arms kissed them, hard, my tongue intertwining with theirs. After a few moments we broke apart.
“Now let’s get one thing straight. I’m after sex and what I want you to do, you do, got it?” My sexually domineering side was asserting itself. It had been a year since I’d last had sex and it had been puberty since I first started having these kinds of fantasies, and now it was about to become true and I wanted to direct it.
“Absolutely.” They crowed, loving it.
“Good, well for a start I’m not calling you ‘Gareth’. So what’s your name?”
“Catrina.”
“Well Catrina, I intend to fuck you every which way I can. But I don’t want half measures, I’m not just going to fuck you and have you suck and wank me off. I intend to have your cock in my mouth, to taste your hot, salty cum in my mouth and have that,” I pointed at his rock-hard cock, “Up my arse! Are we clear on that Catrina?”
“Oh yes.” ‘Catrina’ cooed.
“I can’t hear you.”
“OHH YESSS!” Was their reply.
“Good. And one more thing, I’ve a tights fetish myself. I want to wear those red ones you also got. I want to feel the nylon against my skin. Any objections?” By way of reply he broke my embrace and scuttled into his bedroom. Moments later he returned carrying the red sheer crotchless pair which he’d already liberated from its box and gave them to me. Now a good chunk of my porn collection showed women getting into and out of tights & stockings and having sex in them, and of course I’d observed my past lovers changing into and out of them so I knew what how to put them on. Pointing my toes downwards I balled up each leg of the tights and inserted my naked feet into the nylons, being careful not to stick my feet through the toe-guards. I then proceeded to pull the tights up in fits and starts being careful not to ladder them. Finally, after the inch-high band of elasticised nylon was perched just below my belly button I began to langoureously straighten the tights. As I did so, sitting in their leather chair ‘Catrina’ stroked their cock. I was too busy revelling in the ecstasy of finally fulfilling one of my desires, wearing tights. I ran my hands up and down the silky material whilst admiring myself in a full-length mirror in the bedroom where I’d relocated myself.
If I’d been guaranteed that no-one but me would ever see me in them, I’d have taken pictures of myself, but alas. I felt two arms encircle my waste and kisses being planted on my neck. I turned around and embraced ‘Catrina’ and we resumed kissing, falling back on the bed as we did so. Our passions were burning hot and after a few minutes of sucking on each others tongues we disengaged and rearranging ourselves so that we were head-to-toe with the other we began running our hands down each other’s stockinged legs and kissing them. It felt good and we then refocused our attention to each other’s bare crotches and each took a cock in the other’s mouth. The sensation of their lips and tongue on my glans was overwhelming and I tried my best to do likewise. I started by licking around the point where the two hemispheres of the foreskin meet and after licking off salty pre-cum I inserted the shaft in my mouth.
Deep-throating wasn’t what I was into, either giving or receiving and was content to merely bob my head up and down his shaft using my lips like I would my fingers and hand, wanking him with my mouth. He clearly liked it and this translated into his sucking mine intensely. I lost count of how many minutes it took but our cocks almost simultaneously began bucking and jerking and I could feel the sensation of approaching orgasm all too well, my glans then tightened and swelled and I feared I would bite ‘Catrina’s’ head off as it was impossible not to cry out when I came. I momentarily let his cock fall from my mouth as I cried out in ecstasy: “YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!” My hips started bucking to as I shot glob after glob of cum into their waiting mouth. As my own orgasm subsided I refocused my efforts on returning the favour taking the cock back into my mouth. I soon had it bucking and then I felt it hit my tongue and the back of my mouth, cum, lots of it. Hot, salty and altogether yummy.
“I think I need a glass of water.” ‘Catrina’ broke the silence as we lay in each other’s arms.
“Or something.” I called after them whilst they busied themselves in the kitchen. We’d kissed and exchanged some of our own cum following the mutual blow-job – I’m not sure if sixty-nine is an appropriate term as we were lying on our sides. They returned to bed with a tumbler of almost black, fizzy liquid with a couple of ice cubes resting on the bottom. We shared a couple of sips of Diet Cola and lay in bed.
“I’m actually a pre-op trans-sexual,” ‘Catrina’ explained “I’m having silicone breast implants put in once the lockdown is over with, some treatment on my vocal chords and I’m getting this,” They gestured to their hardening cock, “replaced with a fully functioning clit and pussy. ” When they’re finished with me I’ll be able to do everything any other woman can do except lactate and get pregnant, but I don’t want k**s so that doesn’t bother me. Oh and I’ll change my name by deed poll to ‘Catrina’.”
“’Catrina O’Rourke’ sounds very exotic.” I said.
We turned and faced each other and began kissing, our hands roaming everywhere. As the kissing continued, ‘Catrina’ slowly rotated her body so that she was lying on her back. She reached forward with her hand and fumbled with the handle to one of the drawers of her bedside cabinet and finally opened it, extracting a tube of KY jelly. Lubing my once more erect prick, as well as their bum hole I positioned them so that they were on all fours and climbing off the bed I approached them from behind. I placed my cock against their arse cheeks and gently pushed forward. I’d never given anal before, but it was nevertheless everything I’d imagined, like fucking a super-tight pussy. I paused more than once for both our benefit. Finally I was as far up their back-passage as I dared and began to thrust forward, gently at first but as their backside became more accepting (and I got more carried away with the sensations I was feeling), with more speed and urgency. I was in seventh heaven with the sensation the inside of their bum was giving me. Further egging me on were the noises issuing from their mouth: “Oohh. Ahhh. Fuck me, come on fuck me!” coupled with the sound of the mattress springs creaking and the metal headboard banging against the wall – all big turn-ons for me, not to mention the realisation that not too very long ago Zoë & Jake were fucking in this exact same bed, brought on my second climax of the day.
“Where do you want it bitch?” I asked, reasserting myself.
“Inside me, please, cum inside me.” Came the reply.
“Do you want to be farting cum for the rest of the day, my cum?” I continued.
“Yes please!”
“I want to hear you say it.” I demanded.
“Please Pete; please cum in my sissy bitch bum hole. I want to be farting your cum for the rest of the day. Pleeasse?” Their pleading at my urging was the final straw and I let fly with globs of cum. I felt like I could cum all day. Finally, my balls ached and I fell forward onto them, pooped.
“That was great.” I said as we lay there in a tangle, laughing.
‘You’re telling me.” They agreed. I slowly pulled my cock out and walked into the bathroom.
I returned after washing it and, once my erection had sufficiently subsided, had a pee. Climbing back into bed we shared the rest of the cola and lay in bed for a few minutes.
“Do you still want to do it?” “Catrina’ asked, referring to my earlier request to receive as well as give anal. My ardour had cooled somewhat since I’d said it and I wasn’t so sure. I’d bought a butt plug from one of the many sex shops in London on a Christmas Shopping trip the previous December, but it wasn’t as big as ‘Catrina’s’ cock. I glanced down at it and taking a deep breath said; “Yes, but I want to see it going in. Can you do me from the front?” They nodded and I indicated that they should proceed. They liberally plastered my hole with lube whilst I lubed up their cock, wanking it in the process. Then the time came and I was instructed to lift my legs up and held them by my ankles. Squatting behind me, ‘Catrina’ approached my bum hole with their cock. I could feel the head press against my anus and braced myself.
I’d had prostate exams before and obviously there was the butt plug, but nothing truly prepared me for this, a man’s rock-hard cock entering my bum hole. It felt like someone had kicked me in the arse, but they lingered, with just the head inside and then, little by little, they eased more and more of it inside me until they were about two-thirds in. And then the thrusting began, slowly and gently at first but then, having satisfied themselves that I was relaxed, they began rocking back and forth. As they came into contact with my prostate I felt my cock stiffen again. I was desperate to touch it so as not to let my new erection go to waste.
“Rest your legs on my shoulders.” I was told. I did as was bidden and as ‘Catrina’ fell into a rhythm I began stroking my cock in time with their thrusts. I was in ecstasy. It was my turn to moan and groan with pleasure from the double sensation and when the headboard banging and mattress squeaking was added into the mix yet again, it was too much. Because of my position my body was arced over and when I came, the spunk shot out over my stomach, onto my chest and some even found their way onto my chin which I licked up with my tongue.
“Where do you want it?” It was ‘Catrina’s turn to ask me. Given that it was my first time I pointed to my face. I felt their cock withdraw and I went back onto the bed. ‘Catrina’ climbed up so that their cock was mere inches from my face and they began incessantly wanking. They were red-faced and started gasping and groaning and I opened my mouth like a baby bird about to receive a regurgitated meal from their parent. Eyes closed I heard the exultant cry escape ‘Catrina’s’ throat and then I felt the hot spunk land on my chin, cheek and into my mouth. I opened my eyes and let ‘Catrina’ lick their cum off me. We then got up and divesting ourselves of our nylons – mine were ruined and laddered, which I felt bad about as they weren’t mine, we took a shower together.
The bedclothes mercifully didn’t need changing, but I helped ‘Catrina’ or rather ‘Gareth’ as they were once more, make the bed. We dried off by simply sitting naked on the settee and talked. I told Gareth about how I was between jobs, with the start date of my new job being put back to the autumn. He told me about his which involved designing lingerie for TVs, CDs and pre-op Trans, just like himself.
“Its good money and a growing market now that people are generally more accepting.” He explained.
“And what about today?” I enquired.
“Well, if you’ve no objection and given that we can most emphatically say we broke social distancing rules and there’s no other likely source of sexual release available, why don’t we make it a daily thing? I might as well use this before I lose it.” He pointed to his now flaccid cock. I agreed and for the rest of the quarantine on an almost daily basis we spent time in one or the other’s flats and fucked like rabbits. There were variations with positions and we sometimes had porn on in the background. The only thing that didn’t change was it was as ‘Catrina’ that I slept with Gareth. That autumn after a mere seven months in flat four, Gareth moved out, but a year later, after he’d completed his transition we met back up and they gave me the honour of giving them a ‘test drive’ with their new parts, and reader it was a blast.
Whenever a new tenant moves into one of the adjoining flats I’m always interested in who they are, and with good reason. Living in a flat in a converted house (in my case a turn of the last century, three storey terraced townhouse) anti-social neighbours are the last thing I needed. I’ve lived in flats since I was 21 with my current one situated on a tree-lined road around the corner from Cardiff’s Roath recreation Ground. It was my fourth and in the three previous ones I’d had my share of noisy neighbours, playing music until all hours of the night, loudly. Thankfully, since moving into the flat on the hill this hadn’t been an issue. I lived in what I regarded as the best of the four flats in the building, the other three – two on the ground floor and one on the top floor were all either studio flats or one bedroom affairs with a combined living room and kitchen. In contrast mine had two bedrooms and a separate kitchen & living room/dining room.
I’d also been blessed with considerate neighbours since moving here two years previous. With the rear ground-floor flat, situated beneath my bathroom and second bedroom which I used as a large walk-in cupboard, the tenant’s behaviour was largely irrelevant. At the current time it was a rather frumpy, twenty-something Canadian woman named ‘Heather’ studying at one of the universities in Cardiff. As for the other two sets of tenants, the front flat was occupied by a rather quiet man of about my age (thirty) named ‘Darren’ who had lived there a year and who had recently got a new boyfriend with whom he was spending most of his time at their place.
That left the top-floor flat. Until the end of January it had been occupied by a couple in their early to mid-twenties – ‘Jake’ & ‘Zoë’ and for the most part they’d been quiet, apart from their love-making which was anything but quiet. But that wasn’t an issue with me. Quite the contrary I loved listening to them screwing and had many a memorable wank lying in bed listening to them. I especially liked it when I heard Zoë talking dirty as Jake fucked her. Even though I could only hear and not see them, it was better than watching porn. And believe me I often wished I’d had the courage to walk up the fire escape on the rear of the building and peer into their bedroom window and see what they were up to. When they’d moved out I was really going to miss that aspect about them.
Now, late on the morning of the last Saturday in February I happened to look out my window and beheld the site of a white van parked on the hill outside the flat and three people hefting boxes down the garden path to the door. There were clearly two men, one silver-haired in his fifties, the other in his twenties, but the third person in the group I was initially too late to see as they’d already walked past my line of sight to the front door. After a moment, having propped open the front door they reappeared and at first, through the nets hanging in my window for privacy my heart gave a leap as I beheld what I thought was a woman of about my age with long blonde hair in a ponytail. They wore a grey sweater under a pale-blue denim jacket and matching boot cut jeans. However, upon closer examination I could see it was a man, though it wasn’t difficult to see why I’d mistaken them. Their face was smooth shaven and had a woman’s pointed chin. Even thought I saw what looked like breasts where their chest was, but I must have been wrong.
As the trio began making trips upstairs with the belongings of which one(s) of them were moving in I could hear snippets of conversation through the door, and although one of them was soft, they were all clearly men’s voices. Around mid-afternoon I saw the two men I’d seen initially walking down the path, having closed the front door the middle-aged one turned and looked up at the building. Instinctively I stood back from the window, even though he couldn’t see me through the nets and I could see him wave. He and his companion climbed into the van and then drove off. I didn’t see anything or hear much of the new arrival. A few days later I happened to see some post – presumably bills addressed to flat four and discovered his name was ‘Gareth O’Rourke’.
And then along came the Corona Virus pandemic and the associated lockdown. Darren decided to stay with his new man and Heather took a flight back to Canada before they were suspended. Since this was my home, I chose to stay, especially as it would have been impractical to stay with my parents. Instead we spoke to each other via phone everyday, taking it in turns to call. As for Gareth, he chose to stay as well. I would see him going for walks to the nearby Roath Recreation Ground around the corner; at least I guessed that’s where he was going. That’s was as far as I ever dared to go. The only other times I left the flat was to walk to the shops in nearby Albany Road, or if I was feeling adventurous, a large Sainsbury’s supermarket on Colchester Avenue, fifteen minutes walk away.
It was the last Friday in March, a week after the full lockdown had been imposed that the incident I wish to share with you happened. Like many people I’d ordered things online and was awaiting a couple of parcels – mainly Blu-Rays and a new pair of flip-flops which I wore in lieu of slippers around the flat. So when the buzzer to my flat sounded and the person on the intercom identified themselves as having a parcel, I put on a pair of surgical gloves I’d had the foresight to bulk-buy immediately prior to the lockdown and raced downstairs. I opened the front door and picked the parcel up from the porch where the delivery person had left it. They were keeping a respectful distance roughly midway along the path when I opened the door and after saying thanks, they left.
I returned to my flat and noticed that the parcel was an A4-sized cardboard envelope which bulged about a centimetre in thickness near its centre. With my gloved hands I opened the package, which wasn’t difficult and stared in dismay at the contents. Two squares of cardboard wrapped in see-through cellophane bearing the logo of a well-known brand of nylons stared back at me. In both instances an attractive white woman in her twenties wearing a matching bra and panty set was present on the front. In one she wore a pair of black, crotchless fishnet tights. In the other a pair of red sheer-to-waste ones (in so much as any crotchless tights which in the case of these were essentially stockings with a built-in suspender belt made of nylon, could be classed as ‘sheer-to-waste’).
I considered all the possibilities; a prank gift from one of my friends (or my ex) who knew that I had a bit of ‘a thing’ for tights, or possibly it was simply sent to the wrong address. I then realised to my horror, I hadn’t checked the address label. Maybe it was for one of the other tenants! I sheepishly looked at the invoice inside, a piece of A5 paper folded in two. I considered it could be for Heather who’d ordered it before her last-minute flight to be with her family in Canada. She’d simply forgotten to cancel/redirect it. But in the eight months since she’d moved in I’d only ever seen her in a dress or skirt a couple of times, that was in summer and she’d been best as I could tell, bare-legged. She could of course wear tights under the many trousers or jeans she routinely wore instead of socks, but somehow I doubted it. I even considered that Zoë who’d recently moved out of flat four had ordered them. I’d certainly seen her in nylons, not often, but she did wear them. Perhaps there’d either been quite a delay in delivering them, or she’d not updated her contact details on whatever online retailer she’d ordered them from.
As I slowly unfolded the invoice and caught my first glimpse of the address, my second theory that it was for Zoë appeared to be born out when I saw ‘Flat Four’. But then I saw the name: ‘Mr. G. O’Rourke’. As I puzzled it out, I heard a creaking floorboard coming from the flat above, reminding me of the situation and I resolved to take the package upstairs. I first applied some Prit-Stick as best I could to the once sticky flap and whilst rehearsing my excuse for opening it headed upstairs to flat four. During my time living in the building I’d visited each of the other flats a couple of times, in the case of flat four it was between Boxing Day & New Years Eve when Zoë & Jake had invited me up for coffee one morning.
I paused outside the door and composed myself before knocking decisively on it. There was a moment’s pause before I heard footsteps and a chain being put on before the door opened as far as the chain would let it before going taut and Gareth’s face appeared in the three inch gap.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hi, I’m Pete from flat three downstairs. I think this belongs to you.” I handed him the parcel through the gap and he took it from me. At which point, as if it couldn’t have been better choreographed, my feeble efforts at resealing the parcel gave up the ghost and the two packs of tights fell to the floor, followed a moment later by the invoice which floated down in sympathy after them, watched by both Gareth and myself. After a moment we made eye contact and I said, “I may have accidentally opened it, thinking it was for me.”
“Clearly it wasn’t.” Gareth’s tone of voice demonstrated a mixture of irritation and annoyance at this turn of events.
“Sorry.” was all I could sheepishly manage.
Gareth stooped down and picked up the nylons and the invoice, hefting them in his one hand.
“Well, I guess you’re going to have to come in now, there’s nothing else for it.” I felt unsure to say the least about this as Gareth took the door off the chain opened it wide. I suppose I could have hidden behind the whole ‘social distancing’ advice and passed on his offer until after the lockdown, by which time he’d have either calmed down, or better yet forgotten the invitation. Nevertheless, the smile he then sported as the door was opened and his next words reassured me that I wasn’t in trouble,
“I’m Gareth by the way and I suppose you’re entitled to an explanation.” He gestured to his purchase.
“Only if you feel you have to.” I said as we shook hands. I walked into the flat and noted that he only closed the door and didn’t lock it. The room was as I remembered it from my prior visit, minus personal items and ‘nick knacks’ belonging to Jake & Zoë of course. It was smaller than my flat, lacking the large, circular bay window and he had the roof visibly sloping near the top of the ceiling.
As I took in my bearings, I also took in my host. He was about 5”6 (I’m 5”9) and was slim, with feminine curves in all the right places, including his chest and smooth, shapely legs. None of this required Superman’s X-Ray vision to see as all he wore was a short, silk dressing gown in navy-blue, tied with a sash! What’s more his hair was down and d****d over his shoulders. It reminded me of the style my ex had worn for much of our time together – straight and centre-parted.
“Forgive my attire, or rather lack thereof, but I didn’t expect visitors, at least not in the present circumstances.” I got the impression that he’d been naked this whole time, putting the dressing gown on purely for my benefit, which given that he’d been alone and the flat was quite a pleasant temperature was his prerogative. He sat in a black leather executive chair in front of a computer and spun it round to face me, unselfconsciously affording me a glimpse of his flaccid cock.
Seeing my reaction he crossed his legs and pulled at the ‘hem’ of his gown.
“Are you settling in?” I asked him.
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much?” I prodded him.
“Well it’s rather awkward. But Darren, the guy in flat one?”
“What about him?”
“He’s seeing an old boyfriend of mine. I didn’t find out until it was too late” He replied.
“Ouch.” I responded.
“Thank God for this lockdown and his buggering off to spend it shacked up with my ex. Lord knows what I’m going to do if my ex ever comes over to stay with him.”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ll want to hear this, but I think things are pretty serious between them. He’s hardly spent anytime here these past couple of months.” I said. He nodded his head and then got up and disappeared into the kitchen.
“How do you take it?” He called from there.
“What?”
“Your coffee.” He replied appearing in the doorway. He had a grin on his face to telegraph the obvious double entendre.
“I prefer tea, and I take that with milk and two-and-a-half heaped spoonfuls.”
“Coming right up.” I heard humming and hot drink making sounds before he repaired carrying a small tray with two steaming-hot mugs of liquid and a small plate of assorted biscuits. I was rather ashamed of the pig I made of myself when I took more than my fair share of the biscuits. Gareth for his part didn’t mind, I think he had two. I sipped at my drink, but it was still too hot to drink down, though it tasted good.
“Anyhow, getting back to your question. Beyond the fact that I’ll probably run into my ex one of these days, I think everything’s going fine. How long have you been here, and do you like it?”
I told him I’d been here more than two years and I found everything to my liking.
“Now, I promised you an explanation about these.” He held the packs of tights’ up.
“Look, I’ve a pretty good idea.” I replied.
“Do tell, and I’ll let you know if you’re right.” Our drinks had cooled sufficiently that we could drink them in one go, or at least a few gulps. Finishing mine off I said:
“You either bought them for someone else, perhaps as a birthday present…”
“Or?” Gareth coaxed.
“Or, you bought them to wear yourself.”
“Would you be shocked if I told you it was answer number two?” He pushed.
“Well I didn’t react when you casually slipped into the conversation that you’re gay, or at least like men. So…”
As I trailed off he seemed to come to a decision. Noting that we’d finished our drinks he took the tray and contents back into the kitchen and with an “I’ll be right back.” walked into his bedroom with the tights. My initial feelings of unease returned at this point, but I just couldn’t tear myself away. I think by then I knew that there was a good chance he was going to proposition me sexually and hell, if I was right, I wasn’t going to argue. I’d had a fantasy about screwing a TV/CD/Trans person, well at least a convincing looking one and it had been ages since I’d last had sex with anyone, so, why not especially with this lockdown looking like it was going to last for a few months.
I heard the sound of drawers being opened and closed and then, after a few minutes he reappeared. To say it was a transformation would be an understatement. It was worthy of the old ‘Stars in Their Eyes’ TV show with Matthew Kelly, only without the ‘dry ice’ and razzmatazz. When he emerged he was, well if it weren’t for the manhood between his legs, a she. His hair was combed out. He wore fake eyelashes and expertly applied make-up including lipstick, eye shadow and puff on his cheeks. Clothes-wise he was naked, save for the black crotchless fishnets and some black stilettos.
“Do you like?” I wore only a pair of jogging bottoms – no underpants, a t-shirt and the afore-mentioned flip-flops; he could see the bulge in my groin and the small wet patch from my pre-cum, “I guess you do.” He said. At that I stood up from the red leather two-seater settee I’d been sitting and casually removed my clothes and stood before him naked my cock standing proudly to attention with pre-cum dripping off the end of it. Without saying another word I walked towards them and taking them in my arms kissed them, hard, my tongue intertwining with theirs. After a few moments we broke apart.
“Now let’s get one thing straight. I’m after sex and what I want you to do, you do, got it?” My sexually domineering side was asserting itself. It had been a year since I’d last had sex and it had been puberty since I first started having these kinds of fantasies, and now it was about to become true and I wanted to direct it.
“Absolutely.” They crowed, loving it.
“Good, well for a start I’m not calling you ‘Gareth’. So what’s your name?”
“Catrina.”
“Well Catrina, I intend to fuck you every which way I can. But I don’t want half measures, I’m not just going to fuck you and have you suck and wank me off. I intend to have your cock in my mouth, to taste your hot, salty cum in my mouth and have that,” I pointed at his rock-hard cock, “Up my arse! Are we clear on that Catrina?”
“Oh yes.” ‘Catrina’ cooed.
“I can’t hear you.”
“OHH YESSS!” Was their reply.
“Good. And one more thing, I’ve a tights fetish myself. I want to wear those red ones you also got. I want to feel the nylon against my skin. Any objections?” By way of reply he broke my embrace and scuttled into his bedroom. Moments later he returned carrying the red sheer crotchless pair which he’d already liberated from its box and gave them to me. Now a good chunk of my porn collection showed women getting into and out of tights & stockings and having sex in them, and of course I’d observed my past lovers changing into and out of them so I knew what how to put them on. Pointing my toes downwards I balled up each leg of the tights and inserted my naked feet into the nylons, being careful not to stick my feet through the toe-guards. I then proceeded to pull the tights up in fits and starts being careful not to ladder them. Finally, after the inch-high band of elasticised nylon was perched just below my belly button I began to langoureously straighten the tights. As I did so, sitting in their leather chair ‘Catrina’ stroked their cock. I was too busy revelling in the ecstasy of finally fulfilling one of my desires, wearing tights. I ran my hands up and down the silky material whilst admiring myself in a full-length mirror in the bedroom where I’d relocated myself.
If I’d been guaranteed that no-one but me would ever see me in them, I’d have taken pictures of myself, but alas. I felt two arms encircle my waste and kisses being planted on my neck. I turned around and embraced ‘Catrina’ and we resumed kissing, falling back on the bed as we did so. Our passions were burning hot and after a few minutes of sucking on each others tongues we disengaged and rearranging ourselves so that we were head-to-toe with the other we began running our hands down each other’s stockinged legs and kissing them. It felt good and we then refocused our attention to each other’s bare crotches and each took a cock in the other’s mouth. The sensation of their lips and tongue on my glans was overwhelming and I tried my best to do likewise. I started by licking around the point where the two hemispheres of the foreskin meet and after licking off salty pre-cum I inserted the shaft in my mouth.
Deep-throating wasn’t what I was into, either giving or receiving and was content to merely bob my head up and down his shaft using my lips like I would my fingers and hand, wanking him with my mouth. He clearly liked it and this translated into his sucking mine intensely. I lost count of how many minutes it took but our cocks almost simultaneously began bucking and jerking and I could feel the sensation of approaching orgasm all too well, my glans then tightened and swelled and I feared I would bite ‘Catrina’s’ head off as it was impossible not to cry out when I came. I momentarily let his cock fall from my mouth as I cried out in ecstasy: “YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!” My hips started bucking to as I shot glob after glob of cum into their waiting mouth. As my own orgasm subsided I refocused my efforts on returning the favour taking the cock back into my mouth. I soon had it bucking and then I felt it hit my tongue and the back of my mouth, cum, lots of it. Hot, salty and altogether yummy.
“I think I need a glass of water.” ‘Catrina’ broke the silence as we lay in each other’s arms.
“Or something.” I called after them whilst they busied themselves in the kitchen. We’d kissed and exchanged some of our own cum following the mutual blow-job – I’m not sure if sixty-nine is an appropriate term as we were lying on our sides. They returned to bed with a tumbler of almost black, fizzy liquid with a couple of ice cubes resting on the bottom. We shared a couple of sips of Diet Cola and lay in bed.
“I’m actually a pre-op trans-sexual,” ‘Catrina’ explained “I’m having silicone breast implants put in once the lockdown is over with, some treatment on my vocal chords and I’m getting this,” They gestured to their hardening cock, “replaced with a fully functioning clit and pussy. ” When they’re finished with me I’ll be able to do everything any other woman can do except lactate and get pregnant, but I don’t want k**s so that doesn’t bother me. Oh and I’ll change my name by deed poll to ‘Catrina’.”
“’Catrina O’Rourke’ sounds very exotic.” I said.
We turned and faced each other and began kissing, our hands roaming everywhere. As the kissing continued, ‘Catrina’ slowly rotated her body so that she was lying on her back. She reached forward with her hand and fumbled with the handle to one of the drawers of her bedside cabinet and finally opened it, extracting a tube of KY jelly. Lubing my once more erect prick, as well as their bum hole I positioned them so that they were on all fours and climbing off the bed I approached them from behind. I placed my cock against their arse cheeks and gently pushed forward. I’d never given anal before, but it was nevertheless everything I’d imagined, like fucking a super-tight pussy. I paused more than once for both our benefit. Finally I was as far up their back-passage as I dared and began to thrust forward, gently at first but as their backside became more accepting (and I got more carried away with the sensations I was feeling), with more speed and urgency. I was in seventh heaven with the sensation the inside of their bum was giving me. Further egging me on were the noises issuing from their mouth: “Oohh. Ahhh. Fuck me, come on fuck me!” coupled with the sound of the mattress springs creaking and the metal headboard banging against the wall – all big turn-ons for me, not to mention the realisation that not too very long ago Zoë & Jake were fucking in this exact same bed, brought on my second climax of the day.
“Where do you want it bitch?” I asked, reasserting myself.
“Inside me, please, cum inside me.” Came the reply.
“Do you want to be farting cum for the rest of the day, my cum?” I continued.
“Yes please!”
“I want to hear you say it.” I demanded.
“Please Pete; please cum in my sissy bitch bum hole. I want to be farting your cum for the rest of the day. Pleeasse?” Their pleading at my urging was the final straw and I let fly with globs of cum. I felt like I could cum all day. Finally, my balls ached and I fell forward onto them, pooped.
“That was great.” I said as we lay there in a tangle, laughing.
‘You’re telling me.” They agreed. I slowly pulled my cock out and walked into the bathroom.
I returned after washing it and, once my erection had sufficiently subsided, had a pee. Climbing back into bed we shared the rest of the cola and lay in bed for a few minutes.
“Do you still want to do it?” “Catrina’ asked, referring to my earlier request to receive as well as give anal. My ardour had cooled somewhat since I’d said it and I wasn’t so sure. I’d bought a butt plug from one of the many sex shops in London on a Christmas Shopping trip the previous December, but it wasn’t as big as ‘Catrina’s’ cock. I glanced down at it and taking a deep breath said; “Yes, but I want to see it going in. Can you do me from the front?” They nodded and I indicated that they should proceed. They liberally plastered my hole with lube whilst I lubed up their cock, wanking it in the process. Then the time came and I was instructed to lift my legs up and held them by my ankles. Squatting behind me, ‘Catrina’ approached my bum hole with their cock. I could feel the head press against my anus and braced myself.
I’d had prostate exams before and obviously there was the butt plug, but nothing truly prepared me for this, a man’s rock-hard cock entering my bum hole. It felt like someone had kicked me in the arse, but they lingered, with just the head inside and then, little by little, they eased more and more of it inside me until they were about two-thirds in. And then the thrusting began, slowly and gently at first but then, having satisfied themselves that I was relaxed, they began rocking back and forth. As they came into contact with my prostate I felt my cock stiffen again. I was desperate to touch it so as not to let my new erection go to waste.
“Rest your legs on my shoulders.” I was told. I did as was bidden and as ‘Catrina’ fell into a rhythm I began stroking my cock in time with their thrusts. I was in ecstasy. It was my turn to moan and groan with pleasure from the double sensation and when the headboard banging and mattress squeaking was added into the mix yet again, it was too much. Because of my position my body was arced over and when I came, the spunk shot out over my stomach, onto my chest and some even found their way onto my chin which I licked up with my tongue.
“Where do you want it?” It was ‘Catrina’s turn to ask me. Given that it was my first time I pointed to my face. I felt their cock withdraw and I went back onto the bed. ‘Catrina’ climbed up so that their cock was mere inches from my face and they began incessantly wanking. They were red-faced and started gasping and groaning and I opened my mouth like a baby bird about to receive a regurgitated meal from their parent. Eyes closed I heard the exultant cry escape ‘Catrina’s’ throat and then I felt the hot spunk land on my chin, cheek and into my mouth. I opened my eyes and let ‘Catrina’ lick their cum off me. We then got up and divesting ourselves of our nylons – mine were ruined and laddered, which I felt bad about as they weren’t mine, we took a shower together.
The bedclothes mercifully didn’t need changing, but I helped ‘Catrina’ or rather ‘Gareth’ as they were once more, make the bed. We dried off by simply sitting naked on the settee and talked. I told Gareth about how I was between jobs, with the start date of my new job being put back to the autumn. He told me about his which involved designing lingerie for TVs, CDs and pre-op Trans, just like himself.
“Its good money and a growing market now that people are generally more accepting.” He explained.
“And what about today?” I enquired.
“Well, if you’ve no objection and given that we can most emphatically say we broke social distancing rules and there’s no other likely source of sexual release available, why don’t we make it a daily thing? I might as well use this before I lose it.” He pointed to his now flaccid cock. I agreed and for the rest of the quarantine on an almost daily basis we spent time in one or the other’s flats and fucked like rabbits. There were variations with positions and we sometimes had porn on in the background. The only thing that didn’t change was it was as ‘Catrina’ that I slept with Gareth. That autumn after a mere seven months in flat four, Gareth moved out, but a year later, after he’d completed his transition we met back up and they gave me the honour of giving them a ‘test drive’ with their new parts, and reader it was a blast.
Lauryn
- 10.05.2020
- 12
- 0
