The Awakening - Chapter 03.

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The Awakening
Michele Nylons

Part Three – The Cost of Doing Business

The woman is slim. Mauve satin blouse, navy-blue skirt, black high-heeled pumps. The hem of her skirt teases the backs of her knees. Taupe stockings with black seams. She’s attractive; heavily madeup and her black bob is obviously a wig but of good quality.

She falls to her knees and smiles. A faceless man approaches; his fly is undone and an enormous erection pokes out of his trousers. Her hand snakes out and she caresses the pulsing manhood quivering only inches from her face. As her fingers encircle the phallus I notice her fingernails are painted ruby red. She leans forward and engulfs the proffered organ with her mouth; her lipstick matches her nailpolish.

I wake up with a start; I’m sweating and sporting an erection. The dream is still vivid in my memory and I lie there thinking about it. Is it a dream or a repressed memory?

The woman in my dream is me. I know that. Even though I am a middle-aged man in my early forties named Michael Nyland. The woman in my dreams is named Michele Nylons and she is an attractive, sexy, middle-aged transvestite. And; as I just stated; she is me!


My restlessness has woken Nadine, my wife.

“MMMMmmm! Is that for me?” her hand slides under the covers and gently squeezes my erect penis.

She is still dressed in sheer crotchless pantyhose and the satin baby-doll pajamas that I coaxed her into wearing to bed so we could make love. She still wears the makeup I need her to wear to fulfil my fantasies and it has smeared and her eyes are panda-like because of her smudged mascara and eyeliner. For some inexplicable reason it makes her look even sexier. The high-heeled sandals she wore during our lovemaking lie discarded on the floor beside the bed.

Nadine was so exhausted after our session that all she could do was kick off her heels and crawl into my arms and fall asleep. We both have work in the morning after all.

I’m surprised that she is not too tired and sore to want any more sex but her hand is coaxing my erection to full tumescence. She rolls over and snuggles up beside me; placing a nylon-clad thigh over my torso, seductively rubbing it on my sensitive skin. Her hand continues to caress my manhood.

“Quickie?” she smiles at me in the dark and then kisses me.

Her breath tastes of red wine, which we drank during our lovemaking, and sleep. Her body reeks of stale sex and perfume. She is still sexy as hell, even with her smudged makeup, stale breath and her bruised and semen-clotted vagina.

I roll her on her back and my tongue slides into her mouth at the same time as my erection slides into her buttery cunt. Her legs instinctively ride up and pantyhosed thighs caress my flanks as I begin to fuck her with long deep strokes.

There is no need for foreplay; her vagina is still soggy with a coagulation of semen and vaginal juices and my hardon is rock-hard from my dream.

“MMMMmmm! Come on; do me Mike! Make me come!” she whispers in my ear and then bites the lobe as an added incentive.

I drive myself deep inside my wife and then begin to jackhammer my cock in and out of her; she responds by rising to meet my thrusts and rubbing her legs on my body, spurring me on. He cunt is wet now; not from our previous lovemaking, but from fresh vaginal juices. She is moaning, her tongue working its magic in my mouth.

We climax together; grinding. Our bodies locked groin to groin, our pubic bones clash with the dull pleasurable pain that only intense sex seems to illicit. Nadine rakes my back with her fingernails while her feet drum on my body coaxing me to empty my seed deep inside her.

I feel her vagina quiver and squeeze my ejaculating penis, as it only does when she is experiencing the most intense of orgasms.

We lie locked together like two dogs tied by the knot until both of us are sated. I feel runnels of semen and cunny juices flooding from Nadine's puffy vagina; they soak into her pantyhose.

Eventually Nadine extricates herself from underneath me. She kicks off her pantyhose and throws them on the floor. She rummages around in the bedclothes and eventually finds her panties; she pulls them up her legs and scrunches then around her ample ass without any pretence of behaving ladylike.

She rolls over and kisses me and as she does she cunny-farts.

She smiles at me in the dark.

“Oops!” she giggles.

“It’s your fault anyway. God my cunt is sore!” she pecks my cheek and turns her back to me, spooning, she pushes her behind into my groin but she is sweetly snoring in seconds.

What Nadine doesn’t know; or need to know; is that when I climaxed I was thinking about the woman in my dream engulfing the erect penis of a stranger. I was thinking that I was that woman.

Don’t get me wrong; I love my wife and I love making love to her. Our sex life has never been so good; well not since I came out of my coma; I don’t really know what it was like before that but Nadine tells me it’s currently the best it’s ever been so I believe her.

The fact that I only get aroused when she wears lingerie, high heels, makeup and perfume, sexy skirts, dresses and blouses, does not inhibit our lovemaking. Nadine has been well aware of my fetish for years now she tells me. She knows my peccadillos and, other than the inconvenience of having to dress and make herself up; it actually works to her advantage.

If she wants sex; voilã, all she has to do is dress accordingly. And she has admitted that since I came out of my coma our lovemaking has increased both in frequency and intensity and that she is more than satisfied. What she doesn’t know is that I own nearly as much sexy lingerie, and as many skirts, blouses, high-heels and as much makeup as she does.

Or that I regularly meet another transvestite by name of Vanessa at the Southside Inn and dress up in said accoutrements and have what we call transbian sex. That’s transvestite-on-transvestite sex for the uninitiated.

And I have to admit that until a few weeks ago I was the uninitiated! Apparently before my accident, about four months ago now, I was quite a regular participant in the underground transvestite scene. Then I had my accident and was in a coma for three months and when I regained consciousness I had lost certain parts of my memory; memories mainly regarding my sexual peccadillos.

I discovered the truth about my crossdressing past and then contacted Vanessa who has been leading me through the magical world of crossdressing and transvestism, which I find fascinating and extremely sexually rewarding. We have met three times now at the Southside Inn but I can tell Vanessa is getting a little impatient with me.

She wants me to experience a transvestite party where I can explore sex with other transvestites and admirers (who I now know are men that - well they admire transvestites) but I’m too scared to move beyond my intense foreplay and fellatio sessions with Vanessa.

She tells me I used to be quite the slut! More than happy to gang-bang away the night with all comers (pardon the pun). But I’m reticent now. I like what I have with Vanessa; it’s sexy, sensual, discreet and mutually enjoyable. And I have to admit I’m scared of the thought of having sex with a man. Very scared!

Sure in my dreams I am more than happy to swallow the load of some faceless admirer but I just can’t bring myself to reconcile to the idea in real life. Wouldn’t that make me a homo? Not that dressing like a girl and sucking my new friend Vanessa’s cock while he is dressed as a girl is in any way homo! Is it?

The easiest way to deal with the situation is to just not to deal with it; to let Vanessa try to cajole me into attending a tranny party whilst still enjoying the fruits of her company. It’s been working for a while now so why disturb the status quo?

These are the thoughts that clatter around my brain as I fall asleep cuddling my wife.

Little do I know that my life as Michele is about to change and that I will have very little control over the circumstances of that change.

The next evening I’m in my study with the Sony notepad open and my ‘Michele mobile’ on charge. I’m hoping for an email or text from Vanessa to organise our next meeting. I open my hotmail account and among the junk emails that my junk mail filter has failed to auto-delete is an email from [email protected]. I am about to delete it when I figure I better open it.

John was the guy who unlocked my Sony notebook when I discovered it a few weeks ago after coming out of my coma, but I couldn’t remember the password. I remember John carried on a little weird and kept going on about being into ‘the scene’ which I didn’t understand. I now presume he meant the crossdressing and transvestite scene; not to subtly letting me know that he is an admirer. He must have seen some of the hidden files on my notepad, which fills me with a little trepidation but I open the email anyway. It might just be a warranty issue or maybe he put me on his adverting mailing list.

The email reads:


You must remember me from when I cracked open your laptop for you. I must say I found the contents of the MN folder very interesting, exciting, and very much to my taste.

If you are interested in meeting an avid admirer I would love to meet you.


Fuck! Now I have this guy pressuring me as well as Vanessa! Well I’m not going to be coaxed into doing something I don’t want to. I draft a reply and send it:


I don’t understand what the fuck you are talking about! I don’t know any Michele or know of any hidden MN folder and can’t understand why you would be an ‘avid admirer’ of a salesman who works for a mediocre publishing house!


As soon as I’ve sent the reply I realise my mistake. If I don’t know anything about Michele and the MN folder; how come I’m logged into Michele’s msn email account?

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I rant.

“You must be really horny or very angry,” Nadine calls from the other room; the satire in her voice evident.

“Shall I break out my high-heels and stockings or a bottle of scotch?” she chuckles, leaning against the doorjamb of my study.

She’s not long home from work and is wearing a grey business suit, tan hosiery, black high-heels and full makeup. She crosses her ankles knowing she looks sexy as hell.

“Break out the scotch; I’ll take you as you come,” I slam down the lid on my notebook and leap up from behind my desk; my erection is tenting the front of my trousers.

Nadine makes a show of running away from me but she is giggling. She falls on the couch in the lounge room and her skirt rides up exposing her luscious, silken-clad thighs. She makes no attempt to pull her skirt down.

“If you fuck up this suit Mike you’re paying for the dry cleaning! And this will be the third pair of expensive pantyhose you’ve ruined this month!” she whines, but I can tell she wants it as much as I do.

I’m in the office the next day when my world is turned upside down.

I receive another email from John the PC guy but this time it has been delivered to my work account. This is very disturbing! Is this guy some sort of stalker? Only one way to find out!

I look around the office to ensure no one can see my work station and open the email.

‘Michele honey,

Why are you playing so hard to get? I know who you are and what you do, and even who you do it with. See attached files.


PS. It only takes a click of my mouse and the attachments can be sent your wife’s work and home email accounts and also all of your work colleague’s accounts. You do look stunning and quite unrecognisable as Michele but once I tell them that Michele is really Michael under all that makeup and the wig; I’m sure they’ll join the dots. As Dave Edmunds is want to sing: “There are some things you can’t cover up with lipstick and powder”…’

I become very pale and I think I’m going to faint. I begin to tremble and I can’t control my breathing. With extreme trepidation I open the attached folder.

It comes to me as no surprise that the folder contains a number of pictures of Ms Michele Nylons (AKA Michael Nyland in drag) dressed in her whorish best; some of them with her sporting a rather large erection.

You wouldn’t know it was me. That is to say you wouldn’t know it was me unless someone told you it was, and then you would look very hard and determine that indeed it was me!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Before I have time to panic another email arrives from the same address.


I know you have just opened my previous email (god its good being a computer-nerd sometimes; cloning, phisting and tracking cookies are my stock in trade) so you know what I have on you. I also have your entire email address book from this PC and I have been monitoring the Sony notepad that you use at home.

I know you have been active with Vanessa (another girl I’d like to meet but let’s not digress for the moment) at the Southside Inn and that will suit me just fine.

Be there tonight at 8:00pm, make some excuse to Nadine I don’t care what, but just be there! Be dressed; I don’t want to meet Mike. I now your cell phone number so I’ll call you at eight and you will give me the room number.

Let’s just call this the cost of doing business!

It’s that simple Michele! Don’t fuck this up! Just remember: one click and everyone knows your secret!


PS. Can’t wait!!!!!!!!’

Needless to say I spend the rest of the day fretting. I try to contact Vanessa on her mobile phone but it is turned off and I am too scared to email her because I knew John is monitoring my email.

It eventually becomes obvious to me that the only way to deal with this mess is to meet this asshole. The hold he has over me is particularly ironic, as I have only really just started crossdressing. Blackmailing bastard!

I am too worried to work so I make an excuse and go home. Being not long out of a coma has its advantages; if I say I feel sick, them I am immediately allowed as much sick leave as I need. I ruminate on the problem for a long time while watching the minutes and hours slowly tick away. Then it comes to me! Fight fire with fire!

If I set up a camera and microphone in the hotel room I can get the necessary material I need to blackmail him back. In the first instance I will have footage of him meeting a transvestite in a hotel room and secondly I can secretly get video and audio of him admitting that he is blackmailing me. This seems to be the best plan. Lure him into a false sense security and let him think he is in control then turn the tables on him!

It’s only 3:00pm when I enter the internet café and log onto the net. I stay well away from my Michele Nylons msn account and Google John’s PC Sales and Repairs and go to his businesses homepage. It doesn’t take me long to find out that my nemesis is in fact John Steele, the owner and manager of John’s PC Sales and Repairs. A few searches later and I’ve found his Facebook wall. Fuck I love how people are prepared to tell you all about themselves on the Internet.

The irony is not lost on me that John used cyber tools in order to get the information from my computer and my TVChix page that he needed to blackmail me.

I find out that he is forty-four and married with two grown kids. That’s all I need really to blackmail him back; the fact that I will expose him to his family as a transvestite admirer and or to the police as a blackmailer. Satisfied that I have what I need for now I print the information I need and head home, stopping on the way at a computer hardware store (needless to say not John’s) to get the other items I need to make my scheme work.

I fill my small suitcase with the things I will need and head off to the Southside Inn and get a room.

I’ve texted Nadine that I’m working late and then going for drinks with the boys so I will be home late; incongruously the same excuse I have been using to cover my meets with Vanessa. Another thing that bothers me is that John specifically used Nadine’s name in his email; but now I know the name of his wife!

I’ve tried to fill the suitcase with the least revealing and un-sexy items out of my extensive collection but I need to keep in mind that for my counter-blackmail to be effective; it must look like he is meeting me in flagrante delicto. I open the case and arrange clothes, underwear, shoes, makeup and wig, ready for me to wear.

But first I need to make sure the other essential items that I need for tonight are going to function correctly. I open my notepad and insert a small wifi receiver into one of the USB ports and install and open a program that comes with the hardware I have just purchased. I take a small remotely controlled video camera and directional microphone device that is roughly the same shape and size as a tube of lipstick and turn it on. On the screen of my little PC the hotel room comes into sharp focus. I say a few words and note that they are being recorded on the audio monitor and then play back the little sequence.

Perfect! My plan should work! Now where to hide it? I look at my watch and notice that time is running out. After a few minutes of trial and error I have the camera hidden away between a couple of magazines on a corner table. After another couple of minutes remotely adjusting the field of view to take in the whole room I hide the notebook under the bed, ensuring it is still receiving and recording data from the camera.

I shower and change and am ready to receive my unwelcome guest at 7:30pm. I take a half-bottle of Shiraz from the minibar, I hate the way hotels and airlines think they have the right to charge you double the price for inferior drinks, but I pour myself a glass anyway. My lipstick leaves a red imprint of my lips on the glass.

I have selected a charcoal-grey business suit, the most demure of Michele’s ensembles, and a cerise satin blouse. Underneath I’m wearing a red satin and lace bra and matching full-cut panties. I’m wearing taupe, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose; no need for stockings and suspenders tonight as I won’t be undressing. I’ve chosen patent leather black high-heeled pumps, and I am wearing my usual extravagant amount of makeup. I’ve accessorised myself with jet-black, shoulder-length wig, silver jewellery, and a few perfunctory squirts of Poison, my favourite perfume.

I look attractive rather than seductive. I’m happy with the look; sort of overdone businesswoman; you know the type, the forty-year-old professional who is trying too hard to look young.

I sip my wine and watch the bedside digital clock count down. As it clicks over to 8:00pm exactly, my cell-phone rings. I answer it.

“Room 217,” is all I say.

I quickly pull the notepad computer from under the bed and click ‘record’ on the open program and slide it back into place. I check myself out in the mirror and brush a few stray hairs back in place and touch up my lipstick. As I drain the last of the wine from the bottle into my glass I notice my hand is shaking. I’d probably be sweating too but I’ve cranked up the air conditioning.

There is a single knock on the door and I nearly drop my glass. I take a quick gulp of wine and walk over to the door; I want John to see me holding a glass of wine and looking casual; I want him to think he does not intimidate me.

I look through the peephole. It’s him. The asshole is even wearing his work polo; the company logo and his name embroidered above the breast pocket.

I open the door and he quickly brushes past me into the room. He’s obviously not keen to be seen here; which gives me more confidence in my plan.

I close the door and turn around to face him. We both look each other over. John is looking all of his fort-four years. He’s average height and build with a little potbelly just starting to show. He is not unattractive I suppose; dressed in tan chinos, polo, and suede work shoes. His hair is starting to recede.

He’s taking me in, taking his time to look me up and down. He breaks into a smile.

“Mag fucking nificent!” he grins stupidly.

I’m very much aware that we are being filmed and that I need to trap him as soon as possible so that we can end this charade and I can get my life back on track.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“You Michele. You look magnificent. Even sexier and beautiful than you look in your pictures,” he replies.

Haha! He is falling into my trap.

“What pictures?” I ask.

“What the fuck is this? Twenty questions? Jeopardy? You know what fucking pictures!” he’s getting a little angry.

I take a sip of wine trying to look composed.

“Look; you know why we’re here so stop being so bloody coy!” he growls.

He’s looking at me very intensely now and alarmingly I notice he has a full-blown erection bulging the front of his pants. It’s time to turn this conversation around and get this guy admitting to blackmail so I can bring this farce to a close.

“We’re here because you blackmailed me into being here aren’t we?” I smile sarcastically at him.

I am totally unprepared for what happens next. For a soft looking forty-four year-old John is extremely agile. Before I even realise what is happening he leaps across the room and pounces on me. I’m caught totally unaware as he tackles me and throws me down on the bed. My wineglass goes flying but that is the least of my worries. John is astride me and I am lying prone on the bed with my skirt riding up high on my thighs.

“We’re here because of the pictures I saw of you on your computer and on your webpage. I know you’re active in the tranny scene; you’ve been meeting with Vanessa but you didn’t want to meet with me. Well now we are meeting!” he snarls.

Then he lowers his face to mine and tries to kiss me. I’m struggling and wriggling on the bed but he’s astride me and I have to admit he is stronger than I am. I realise I won’t be able to stop him kissing me without suffering some sort of physical discomfort but I also realise that my camera is filming us and this will support my allegations that he is blackmailing me. It will prove to whomever I need to that this man is a transvestite admirer and a blackmailer.

I stop struggling and let him kiss me. He slides his tongue into my mouth and kisses me passionately. I am forced to admit that it is quite exciting to know that I can get a man worked up like this. As I am no longer struggling he stops holding me down. He slides his legs along the bed so he is lying on top of me; he’s still kissing me while he does this and I have to admit it feels pretty good.

Instinctively I respond; I kiss him back and put my arms around him, pulling him to me. As well as feeling pretty good this will look good on video.

“MMMMmmmm, Michele you feel and smell so wonderful; I’ve wanted to do this for so long honey,” he sighs and kisses me again.

He strokes my face as we continue to kiss and cuddle. I figure I’ll let him make out with me for a while and then drop the bomb and tell him I’ve got it all on video. I can feel his hard cock through his pants and the material of my skirt. It’s like an iron bar and he’s pushing it against my body as we kiss. Again I am impressed that I can so affect a man.

John slides a hand down my body and begins to stroke my legs; his ministrations are quiet sensual and over the panting and groaning and I can hear the rasp of his fingertips on my pantyhose. He strokes my thighs and little sparks of delight run up my legs to my groin; I’m becoming tumescent.

“MMMMmmmm, nice,” I whimper.

I’ll coax him on a little more; it will give me more evidence to blackmail him.

He’s thrusting his body against me harder now and his kisses are becoming more passionate, his fingers are raking my thighs and I can tell he is extremely excited.

He lifts himself off me briefly and I’m a little disappointed that he has stopped kissing me but then I hear the unmistakeable sound of a fly being unzipped and a belt buckle being loosened. I am about to object when John lowers his face back to mine and starts kissing me again; I can feel his cock through my skirt as he humps me. As long he is just dry humping me I’ll let him carry on what he’s doing.

It does feel nice and I feel quite feminine lying under a man who is taking great pleasure from kissing and fondling me. My thighs are tingling from his continued caresses and my own cock is hard inside my pantyhose gusset. As John dry humps me he is unknowingly rubbing my satin panties against the nylon gusset of my pantyhose and the sensations on my penis are unbelievably arousing.

I’m kissing him quite arduously now; my own tongue sliding around his mouth, my arms locked around him pulling him to me as I lift my body to meet his thrusts. I suppose that he is leaving silvery trails of pre-cum on my skirt and the thought adds to my excitement. I decide I will let him come on me and I can come in my panties without him knowing. Then; after he has finished ravishing me, I can counter-blackmail him.

Suddenly his hands stop raking my thighs and I feel them at my skirt. He’s trying to hike it up further and I try to stop him. We struggle against each other, he trying to ruck up my skirt up my waist and me trying to push it down. What is bizarre is that we keep kissing and humping. The room is filled with our moans and sighs.

Eventually he wins out and he succeeds in hiking my skirt up and he immediately pushes his groin against mine so that his hard throbbing penis is rubbing against the front of my panties. It feels so hard and warm against me. Then his erect phallus finds mine and he pushes his naked cock against my panty-clad member and starts to slowly massage our appendages together.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he groans and lowers his face to mine.

It feels so good that I lift my legs up and wrap them around him to pull him closer. The feel of his steel-hard cock rubbing against mine through the layers of panty and nylon is exquisite! I’m close to coming and we are both rutting at each other with vehemence.

“Oh Michele you are so beautiful and this feels so magnificent honey. I knew I would get you to like me if you gave me a chance,” he looks deeply into my eyes as he humps away at me.

I’m both flattered and enraged. I’m flattered that he finds me so sexy and beautiful; and lying here underneath him dressed in lingerie, skirt, blouse, heels and makeup I must admit it feels very feminine and sexy. But I’m enraged that he thinks that a little kissing and cuddling has made me change my mind about him and his coercive ways.

“Well this does feel good honey but it’s a shame you had to blackmail me into me letting you dry-hump me,” I smile up at him and then pull his lips to mine.

His shirt has come loose and free of his pants and I rub my nyloned legs on his flanks, knowing that he will love it as I love it when Nadine and Vanessa do it to me.

Suddenly John breaks the kiss and stops humping me.

“Blackmail you into letting me dry hump you Michele?” he says.

“Nah. I’m not blackmailing you into dry humping me. I’m blackmailing you into letting me fuck you!” he hisses.

John moves quickly again and before I can stop him he slides his cock under the leg opening of my panties and his cock comes into contact with my pantyhose-sheathed appendage. I struggle and try to push him off me but John hangs on and probes at my groin with his hard phallus. I drum my heels on his back and push at his shoulders to try to dismount him.

“Get off me you fuck!” I shriek.

“Bullshit! You like it,” he whispers in my ear as his cock slides sensuously against mine.

“Ok; but you are not going to fuck me buster,” I smile up at him, enjoying the sensations and thinking the threat of being penetrated has passed.

We continue to kiss and fondle each other, John’s hands stroke my pantyhosed legs rubbing them from knee to gusset and back again.

“MMMMmmm, that’s nice,” I moan.

I become worried again when John takes my hand and leads it between our bodies and pushes it inside my panties. It’s obvious what he wants I reluctantly take his hard cock in my hand. It actually feels quite erotic; the velvety flesh of his glans contrasts with the sleek, veiny hardness of his shaft. I rub my thumb over the eye and feel a bead of pre-seminal fluid seep from it. John groans and I slowly squeeze his manhood and begin to stroke it.

It’s not only pleasurable; it’s also empowering, having this man virtually eating from my hand simply by wanking his crank and rubbing my nylon-shrouded legs on his body. Of course the irony is that I respond the same when my wife does the same to me. But feeling it from the feminine perspective is for more intense; it’s even more intense than the transbian sex I’ve been having with Vanessa.

John is no longer stimulating my penis, which is better for me in a way. I can concentrate on pleasuring him and bringing the evening to an end. I’m kissing him arduously, working my legs and body against his now shirt-less torso and slowly masturbating him to climax. I must be doing a good job because he is grunting and writhing on top of me whist fucking my hand and kissing me so hard that our teeth occasionally crack together.

John pushes my hand away from his penis and lowers his groin to mine again; rubbing his hard cock on my semi-erect member. My cock hardens quickly as his erection rubs against my pantyhose-sheathed penis. He seems to be close to climax, he’s panting into my mouth and he impatiently pulls at my panties so they don’t interfere with our cock-on-cock humping.

I lower my legs from his body so he can pull my panties down; which he does quite violently, leaving them dangling from my left ankle as he slides his arms under my knees and lifts my legs up high. He lowers his cock back onto mine and I lock my ankles behind his back as he frantically humps me, frotting away with vigour.

The gusset of my pantyhose is soaked with our pre-seminal fluid and I’m sure it is about to become saturated with our scalding hot semen. I’m close to coming and I’m pretty certain he is too. I squeeze my legs tight and wrap my arms around him in a lover’s embrace in expectation of a mutual orgasm as we fanatically kiss.

Suddenly John adjusts his position slightly and pushes his cock into the crevice of my pantyhose-clad buttocks and begins to push. I know immediately what he is trying to do.

“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I scream.

John holds me down with his bodyweight as his hand quickly reaches down and tears a hole in the gusset of my pantyhose and his hard cock quickly snakes inside my pantyhose and pushes against my puckered anal bud. Despite my desperate struggles he manages to spit into his hand and lubricate his shaft, he spits again and rubs his saliva on my virgin sphincter.

“Please don’t!” I sob, but I am defeated.

The head of John’s penis pushes my sphincter open and he enters me. I’m surprised that there is no real pain; his saliva has obviously provided lubrication and allowed for an easy insertion. I feel full; but there is not the sharp pain I was expecting. This goes to the truth that Vanessa told me; that before the coma I was quite partial to being fucked, sometimes three of four times a night apparently. I suppose all that cock up your ass over a period time must loosen up the anus!

John continues his assault until his cock is buried deep inside me. He lies still for a while, while I get used to his girth. I begin to realise that if I concentrate I can relax my anal muscles. Then the feeling of fullness begins to slowly turn to pleasure. The nerves of my sphincter radiate little sparks of delight but the most intense sensations emanate from my prostate gland.

I stop struggling as little waves of gratification radiate from my anus; John feels me cease fighting him and slowly he begins to fuck me. I lift my face to his and kiss him. He releases my legs so I can reposition them around his torso in the missionary position. I know he wants me to rub my nylons on his body and I oblige; I rake his back with my fingernails and spur him on with my high-heels.

“Go ahead John fuck me! Fuck me!” I cry and lift my buttocks to meet his thrusts.

“MMMMmmmm! You sexy whore!” he hisses and then we kiss again, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

I can feel John’s glans rub against my prostate and rings of pleasure run up and down my anus; my sphincter responds as his shaft slides in and out emitting its own tingling ripples of pleasure. I am amazed at how erotic and sexually stimulating being fucked like this really is. Despite being forced to participate, I am glad now that I have overcome my trepidation about being fucked. Image how good it’s going to feel when I’m a willing participant?

I feel totally feminine lying underneath John; wantonly giving myself to him; the feel of hose, heels, and skirt, the taste and smell of makeup and perfume, its what I imagine it must be like for Nadine when I am fucking her.

John eases his penis in and out my anus with long slow thrusts as I raise myself up to meet him. Then he begins to quicken the pace, fucking me faster, his groin thwacking against my soft buttocks. I grip him tighter with my arms and legs and push up hard against him to coax all of his length inside me as he fucks me.

"Oh fuck me honey!" I moan and began to push back against him as he slides in and out of my tight passage.

My cock is fully erect in my pantyhose and it is rubbing against John’s belly as he fucks me. The incredible sensations coming from my anus combines with the electrifying pleasure from my nylon-sheathed cock is bringing me close to orgasm.

“Oh Michele I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m going to come in you, you slut!” John screams and jackhammers in and out of my bruised anus.

I rake his body with my nails and heels and slide my pantyhosed legs along his flanks encouraging him to unload his seed. I raise my ass up off the bed and grind against him.

John unloads his semen inside my back passage; his cock pulses and quivers ejecting steams of hot semen. I feel my anus fill with John’s scalding load, triggering my own orgasm.

His cock is fully embedded in my ass, his scrotum tickling my pantyhose-clad buttocks his whole body is quivering. We kiss passionately, our tongues entwine, lips mash, as we slather and paw at each other.

My orgasm wracks me and my penis throbs and expels my issue into my pantyhose. John pushes his belly against mine; he must be feeling my hot load soak through my hose and scalding his belly. He slides a hand between us and milks the last of my seed from my pulsing member.

I slide my nylon-sheathed legs up and down John's torso and pull him harder against my body; my fingernails rake his back and our lips crush together; our tongues intertwine. I drum my heels against John's hard buttocks as the final throes of desire wrack our pleasure-fused bodies.

We kiss and cuddle as John’s penis slowly deflates inside me. He hunches up a little and his cock slides out of my anus and a dribble of semen runs from my sphincter and soaks into my hose. John places his soft cock on mine and rubs it a little.

“MMMMmmm,” he moans.

He lifts his face from mine and looks at me seriously; he tenderly strokes my fringe away from my eyes.

“I’m sorry I forced you,” he says.

“You’re an asshole!” I reply just as seriously.

I see the hurt look on his face.

I can’t help but break into grin.

“But you’re an asshole who knows how to fuck and make a girl feel feminine and sexy,” I smile and kiss him quickly.

“I have to go,” he says apologetically.

“So you’re the kind of guy who fucks a girl and runs?” I giggle.

“There are plenty of other times to come,” he smiles back.

“You wish!” I say sarcastically.

“I still have all that stuff I emailled to you” he smiles back.

“You mean the stuff you blackmailed me with?” I say, setting the trap.

“Yes, the stuff I blackmailed you with,” he smiles.

I’ve got him now. But the whole context has changed. I need to think things through.

John climbs off me and quickly gets dressed. I just lie there watching him, a little amused.

He bends down and kisses me.

“Til next time,” he smiles.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I smile whimsically back up at him.

“No. Til next time!” he says seriously, but then he winks at me and his face breaks into a grin.

I lie on the bed, my skirt still rucked up, my panties around my ankles, my anus dribbling semen from my ripped pantyhose, and my makeup smeared as I contemplate what to do next. I also conjure up memories of the past hour or so, my anus throbbing with a strangely satisfying bruised feeling. My cock begins to harden again.

“What the fuck; I’ve paid for the room! I might as well use it!” I say to the empty hotel suite.

I reach under the bed and pull out the Sony notepad. I cue the video to where John has just entered me and press play. I masturbate myself to orgasm as I watch John fuck me on the small screen.

To Be Continued……………………………

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Michele may want to start

Donna T's picture

Michele may want to start carrying and using tampons to stop the post sex leakage. It seems there's a lot of seepage going on. John's interested in transvestites a LOT... so is he a practitioner or just an observer? I guess it's just a matter of time before Vanessa becomes involved. Never a dull moment with ANY of your stories.