The Wrong Turn

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After the party

Bonnie strode purposely down Maple Street taking long, determined strides. The thin leather strap on her purse dug into her shoulder, the purse itself banged against her hip. Bonnie’s short black leather miniskirt was lined with rayon and kept sliding up her shimmery pantyhose. She kept tugging at the skirt, pulling it down as far as it would go, which wasn’t far. At the party the skirt hadn't been a problem because Bonnie had been walking seductively: swaying her hips, turning her toes inward slightly as she took small narrow steps, ensuring the ball of her high-heels hit the floor first and the skirt stayed put, mid-thigh where it was supposed to.

From any distance it was obvious that Bonnie was angry and under the influence of alcohol. She was taking long determined paces, fury causing her to almost trot as she put as much distance between herself and the Benning household as she could.

“Oh Fuck!” she squealed as she came precariously close to turning an ankle when her heel caught a crack in the path.

Bonnie stopped walking and sat on a low brick fence fronting a darkened suburban house. The effects of the booze made her head swim as she focussed on her watch and saw that it was past 1am. She caught her breath, took off her high heels and rubbed her feet. She put the white, size eleven, four-inch-heeled pumps on the wall beside her. Christy had found the shoes for Bonnie at Macy’s. They were the last pair in that size on the shelf.

“Fuck Christy!” Bonnie sighed.

“No fuck Evelin!” Bonnie corrected herself, using Christy’s real name.

Bonnie was feeling a little nauseous as the alcohol slowly worked its way out of her system and she dragged in a lungful of the cold night air hoping it would sober her up.

She rummaged around in the little purse which contained her ‘essentials’ as Christy had called them when she’d tossed them into Bonnie’s purse before they left for the party. Her long red fingernails clacked against her iPhone as she searched for her cigarettes. She found the Marlborough Menthol Lights she was looking for and the Bic lighter. She put the phone down beside her shoes and lit up, drawing the cool menthol smoke deep into her lungs.

She and Christy had Elf Bar vapes that they used in their home because vapes didn’t stink up their house and their clothes and despite the Surgeon General’s concerns they were both convinced that e-cigarettes were doing far less damage to their health than tobacco. The exception being when they went out on weekends they allowed themselves to have a couple of illicit cigarettes.

Bonnie’s rage slowly dissipated into burning fury. She was still too angry at Christy to turn around and go back to the party where their Nissan Rouge was parked in the Bennings driveway. It was all Evelin’s fault. She had decided to attend the Bennings ‘Bad Parents’ theme party as Bonnie and Christy Plunkett.

Bonnie pulled the black bolero jacket tight around herself in an attempt to keep out the chill. Inside the Benning’s huge temperature controlled house the leather skirt, satin blouse and bolero jacket had been comfortably warm. Out in the night air the ensemble didn’t do much to keep out the cold.

Maple Street was deserted and there was no way that an Uber was going to pick her up and drop her off at home at this hour. Bonnie’s house was a forty-five minute walk but only a ten minute drive. Besides, the walk would give her time to calm down, sober up and blow off some steam and think up a good excuse to tell Christy.

Bonnie couldn’t help but think of Evelin as Christy and herself as Bonnie, the two characters that they had decided to roleplay at the Benning’s party.

“We need to stay in character from the minute we leave home right up until we get home or at least until we win the contest,” Christy had insisted and to be fair Bonnie had agreed.

The Bennings owned Exclusive Escapes and the prize for the most realistic interpretation of the theme was an all-expenses paid holiday to Cabo San Lucas including airfares and accommodation for two people. The holiday had been gifted to Lyle Benning as a promotion. He received these marketing junkets all the time and he and his wife often passed them on to friends and family.

Mitchell and Evelin Scottsdale had a comfortable lifestyle but Lyle and Kathy Benning were nouveau riche. Kathy had inherited a family fortune and Exclusive Escapes was doing a roaring trade now that people were in a post-pandemic rush to travel.

Bonnie picked up her iPhone and for a second thought about calling Christy to pick her up but Bonnie was still too angry to talk to Christy and Christy was likely to tell Bonnie to take a hike or probably something more abusive. She tossed the phone, cigarettes and lighter back into her purse and shouldered it. She picked up her pumps and dangled them by her side on two fingers as she began to walk down Maple Street.

The concrete path was cold but smooth under her stocking feet and she was making better time walking barefoot than she had been in her heels. When Maple Street came to the junction at Cypress Drive Bonnie had a decision to make.

Mitchell Scottsdale was a runner. He ran at least five miles a day around the leafy suburbs of Forest Gardens. That’s why Bonnie’s long legs were toned and well turned out in her glossy nylons. If Bonnie took the pathway through Cedar Park it would cut fifteen, maybe twenty minutes off her journey. If she continued along Cypress it was likely that Christy would drive by on her way home and possibly pick her up.

Bonnie wasn’t ready to speak to Christy yet and the shortcut seemed a more inviting alternative. The only problem was that the pathway through Cedar Park was crushed gravel which would mean putting her heels back on or cutting the soles of her feet to ribbons. The park was dark but the pathway was lit by solar powered edge lighting.

“Fuck it!” Bonnie tossed her cigarette into the leafy groundcover and slipped her high heels back on her feet.

She turned onto the path, her heels crunching on the gravel. Bonnie was nearly halfway through the park when she realised that she had made a mistake. Walking in high heels on the loose gravel slowed her down considerably and she had to concentrate on where she placed her feet on the poorly lit path. The park was pitch-black except where the solar lamps illuminated the edge of the walking trail.

At the halfway point there was a picnic area comprising a pavilion, picnic tables and benches, gas-fired barbeques, a children’s playground and a sandpit and public ablutions. Bonnie could see the small pavilion in the middle of the picnic area illuminated by a single fluorescent bulb mounted on the ceiling. It was like a small island of light in an ocean of complete darkness. She decided that she would take a seat there and find the little stone that had caught in her shoe and was giving her hell. Maybe she would smoke another cigarette.

Bonnie had been too busy thinking about the events leading up to her current predicament and concentrating on the path to notice the shadowy figures approaching her, one from behind and one from in front.

“Well, well, well; what do we have here?” the unexpected voice coming from behind her startled Bonnie.

Bonnie looked up and saw a man blocking her path. It was so unexpected that she was too stunned to cry out.

Bonnie stood a little over six feet tall in her heels and weighed 138 pounds on a runners frame but she was no match for the two strangers who dragged her off the pathway and corralled her towards the pavilion.

Bonnie knew that she was in terrible trouble.

One week before the party

Mitchell Scottsdale had completed his daily run around the leafy suburb of Forest Gardens. The Scottsdales lived in phase two of the sprawling upmarket development built around a civic centre and shopping complex. He worked as a planner for Forest Gardens Developments and was proud of his achievements and liked to run around the select community to survey the fruits of his labour.

Evelin’s BMW was parked in the driveway and he smiled as he took his airbuds out of his ears and fished the door key out of the little pocket in the waistband of his running tights. Another few weeks and it would be warm enough to switch to his spandex running shorts so he get some colour on his long athletic legs.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” he called, grinning at his parody of Jack Nicholson.

“In the kitchen,” his wife called out.

Evelin worked as a real estate broker for the same development company, although her office was located in the civic centre whilst Mitchell spent most of his time in the planning office at phase five of the development site.

Evelin had her back to him. She was at the sink washing vegetables for the salad that would accompany the steaks they would eat for dinner. Mitchell filled a glass with chilled water from the fridge and admired the back of his wife.

Standing at five-five Evelin was as diminutive as Mitchell was tall, although her Louboutin's gave her a couple of extra inches. She was trim and had long platinum blonde hair that she wore in a blunt-cut bob, the bangs framing her pretty face. She was wearing a burgundy skirt-suit and tan nylons, the skirt clung to the curve of her pert backside, hugging her buttocks. The hem rested a few inches above her knees; her shapely legs clad in lustrous sheer hose.

Evelin dressed to look professional for the wives of her male clientele and to look sexy but business-like for their husbands. It was usually the husband that controlled the purse strings but it was the wives who decided which house they would live in. The balance was to impress the women with her business acumen whilst at the same time subtly beguiling the men. She was good at her job and often led the monthly property sales figures.

Mitchell put his water glass down on the countertop and closed in behind Evelin and hugged her, nuzzling her neck.

“You always smell so nice,” he murmured as he snuggled up to her, pressing his body against hers.

Evelin could feel Mitchell’s erection pressing against her skirt through his athletic tights.

“You smell like sweat,” she replied.

“Take a shower and get changed,” she admonished him.

“Come with?” Mitchell began to grind his erect penis against Evelin’s ass.

“I have a late showing after dinner,” Evelin tried to wriggle out of the embrace but all that did was further arouse her husband.

“Looks like were fucking in the kitchen then,” Mitchell chuckled and put his hands on Evelin’s hips and pushed harder against her.

Evelin knew that Mitchell was turned on by her, especially when she was dressed like this. He had a fetish for taking her fully-clothed dressed in her business suit, her tennis outfit or her yoga leotard and tights, anything that looked sexy on her. She pandered to his needs because she loved him and because she wanted to keep him from straying.

The Scottsdales were in their late thirties and had made a deliberate decision not to have children. They loved the freedom of not being tied down and being able to do what they wanted when they wanted. Evelin’s female colleagues bitched about their kids and their husbands and the fact that they didn’t have time for a good sex life and were scared that their husbands would be tempted to slake their desires elsewhere.

Evelin had been propositioned on innumerable occasions by clients, work colleagues and even other wives husbands. She was well aware that she was a beautiful sexy woman and that some of her friends were jealous. But the reverse was also true. Mitchell was a handsome man and she saw the other ladies sizing him up, and without children to bind them, she was concerned that he might stray so she gave in to his proclivities whenever he felt the need, seldom saying no to him.

She felt him lift up her skirt and press his cock into her buttocks, rubbing his lycra tights against her panty-clad bottom. Mitchell loved the feel of the mellifluous fabrics on his flesh; especially his cock and he ground his penis against his wife’s soft yielding buttocks and groaned.

Evelin wondered if she might be able to fetch Mitchell off in his running tights. She’d done it before. He’d once picked her up from her yoga class straight after one his runs and pulled the car over and practically dragged her into the back seat and rubbed his lycra-clad cock against her prominent pubic mound sheathed in her leotard and tights. He’d buffed his cock so hard against her that her labia became delineated through the layers of gossamer-like fabric and his glans mashed against her clitoris.

She clung to him in the back seat, wrapping her legs around him, nibbling his earlobe, scratching his back, biting his lip, trying fruitlessly to free his erection from his running tights so that he could plunge his steely rod into her warm syrupy clunge but he she wasn’t quick enough and she felt the warm wetness of his spend soaking through her leotard and tights and it had triggered her own orgasm.

When they arrived home Mitchell had driven the SUV into the garage rather than parking on their driveway as usual because their neighbours were out and Mitchell and Evelin had saturated the crotches of their sportswear with their coital juices. When they got inside they had both laughed uncontrollably until Mitchell threw Evelin down on the shag pile rug and tore the stiches out of the crutch of her yoga pants and fucked her so hard that her head had bounced on the polished hardwood floor.

Another time he had followed her into the ladies locker room at the tennis club. She was hot and clammy from the match, her little skirt clinging to her thighs, her tight, full-cut tennis panties riding up her ass crack, her makeup had run and her hair was clammy. She didn’t feel the slightest bit sexy but Mitchell had pushed her into a toilet cubicle and practically raped her, not that she hadn't enjoyed it when Mitchell eased aside the gusset of her tennis panties and slid his long thick schlong into her clammy slit.

She’d had to bury her head in his clavicle to stifle her moans and push her fingers in Mitchell’s mouth to keep his groans from ringing out across the locker room whilst he pressed her against the wall of the cubicle and fucked her, her arms and legs wrapped around him. They were lucky that they weren't caught but Mitchell was always excited when they fucked in public places.

Evelin pandered to her husband’s fetishes not only because she wanted to please him, it turned her on too. She relished their adventurous sex life.

She reached behind her and stroked Mitchell’s cock through the skin-tight spandex feeling the power projected from the hardness of his steely rod. Her panties were becoming moist in anticipation. Mitchell turned her face to his and she craned her neck awkwardly so that he could kiss her, his tongue slipping over her lips and into her mouth.

For work Evelin wore seamless ‘Skims’ full-cut bikini panties over her pantyhose so that she didn’t show any VPL under her tight skirts. They were figure-hugging and comfortable but also fashionable. Mitchell cupped her buttocks and ran his fingers over the seat. Mitchell slipped a couple of fingers inside the gusset and pressed her sheer-to-the waist pantyhose into her sex. He smiled when he found her warm and wet.

“You pig!” she giggled as he pressed a finger between her puffy labia and circled her clitoris.

Evelin tugged at Mitchell’s sports tights until his cock sprang free. Even after years of marriage she was fascinated by the feel and texture of her husband’s penis. It was long and curved upwards slightly, perfectly shaped so that his glans pressed on her G-spot when he fucked her. The spongy shaft was sheathed in velvety flesh with little veins running along the length of it which she traced with her perfectly manicured fingernails. The glans was a pink cushiony mushroom that she adored licking when she fellated him. She circled it lightly with two fingers and stroked it.

Peter’s breathing was quickening and becoming erratic as his wife stroked his cock, bringing it to full tumescence. He circled her clitoris with a fingertip, teasing it, pressing the fabric of her pantyhose into her vagina. Evelin’s heels began to judder on the tiled floor as waves of delight radiated from her cunt. Her nipples hardened and Mitchell unbuttoned her blouse with his free hand and pushed his fingers inside the cups of her brassiere and tweaked her nipples.

“You bastard!” she moaned.

She guided his penis between her legs and bent over the sink invitingly. Mitchell removed his fingers from her vagina and pushed against the fabric of her pantyhose until they split open and he thrust his cock through the hole, into his wife’s tight buttery quim.

It was over quickly.

Mitchell squeezed Evelin's breasts, pulling her tight against him, her ass pushed out, her skirt hiked up. He nibbled her ear as his cock slid all the way inside her. Evelin could feel Mitchell's heart beating in his chest as he held her close and slowly fucked her, her quim tightening around his invading manhood. Mitchell tweaked her clitoris and she climaxed, her whole body shuddering as the head of his penis pressed on her G-spot. She would have fallen to floor if her husband wasn’t holding her tight against his lean body.

She felt his cock shudder and fill her vagina with his creamy issue. It felt overwhelmingly decadent to be fucked over the kitchen sink whilst she was still dressed in her business suit. She looked out through the sheer lace curtain and saw their neighbour Melody Bishop in her backyard pushing her two brats on the swing set. Melody looked Evelin's way and Evelin saw the shocked expression on Melody’s face but she could also see envy. Evelin smiled at Melody and pushed her buttocks back against her husband, triggering a second smaller orgasm.

Mitchell held Evelin close as he ejaculated inside her, his cock swelling. She felt like a bitch tied by a dog’s knot, unable to expel Mitchell’s cock even if she wanted to. He held her like that and she felt the warmth and the love radiating from her husband, his face resting on her neck, inhaling her scent as he planted his seed deep inside her.

Mitchell finally released her, taking his hand out of her blouse and the other from inside her pantyhose. She felt a little pang of regret as his cock slipped out of her clunge, her vagina and her labia clinging to the swollen flesh, reluctant to let it go.

“I better take that shower,” Mitchell kissed her softly, pushing his deflating organ back into his tights.

“You better,” Evelin echoed, her voice husky with the remnants of lust.

She reached for the dishcloth on the counter and pressed it between her legs to soak up the juices that threatened to saturate her thighs and stain her skirt. She looked out the window and saw Melody Bishop with her mouth still agape and she smiled sweetly and waved. Melody blushed and turned away and began to push her snotty brats back and forth on the swings.

Evelin kicked off her high heels. Carefully keeping her skirt hitched up out of the way she pulled down her pantyhose and panties. They bunched up around her ankles and she kicked them away and used the dishcloth again to dry her sex and then she buttoned her blouse and let her skirt fall back into place. She picked up the tangled underwear off the kitchen tiles and disentangled the Skims, dropping the pantyhose into the kitchen tidy. The panties would go into the wash.

Mitchell was in the shower when she entered the bathroom and Evelin wetted a facecloth with warm water and liquid soap and cleaned and dried her sex. She fixed her makeup and padded into the bedroom on bare feet. She fished a fresh pair of pantyhose and Skims out of the drawer and put them on. While she adjusted her blouse and skirt she wondered how many pairs of her pantyhose that Mitchell ruined in a month.

Not that she was bothered. As long as she kept her husband happy and he kept her fulfilled he could rip out the crotch of every pair she owned for all she cared. She had repaired the seams in the crotch of her yoga pants and sports tights so many times that she wondered if it wouldn't just be easier to leave them torn.

When Mitchell came back to the kitchen, Evelin was dressed as perfectly as ever, looking ready for work.

“Go! Cook meat, you caveman,” she smiled at him, thrusting the plate of New York strips at him.

The charcoal grill was smoking on the patio outside the kitchen. When Mitchell put the steaks on the grill he saw Melody Bishop in her backyard playing with her two girls. He waved at her and she waved back but she had a funny look on her face. He wondered what that was all about as he turned the meat to cook it medium rare.

Later that night…

“You know that Lyle and Kathy Benning are throwing a party again on Saturday,” Evelin said as she came out of the bathroom ready for bed.

“Not another one of those theme parties?” Mitchell tried unsuccessfully not to sound whiney.

“Yes but this time the prize for the best impersonation is an all-expenses paid holiday to Cabo flying first class and staying at a five-star resort,” Evelin pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.

“Again with the theme party. Why can’t they just throw an ordinary party and have the guests pull a lucky dip out of a hat or something? Maybe we could play poker and the winner gets the prize?” Mitchell offered.

“You know I like those theme parties,” Evelin snuggled up to her husband.

“They appeal to your competitive nature,” Mitchell countered.

She rubbed her leg against Mitchell’s belly. She had worn pantyhose to bed at Mitchell’s request which meant that he wanted sex and she was not above bartering when the opportunity arose.

“Ok, what’s the theme this time?” Mitchell asked running his hand along Evelin’s thigh.

“Bad parents,” Evelin reached for Mitchell’s cock which was already semi-erect.

“What the fuck is a bad parents party?” Mitchell whined.

“On the invite it says to come as your favourite bad parents portrayed in film or on television. The couple with the closest resemblance wins the prize,” Evelin explained.

“You know… like Peggy and Al Bundy in Married with Children or Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest… you get it?” she squeezed Mitchell’s cock.

“Yeah, ok I get it. Who do you have in mind?” Mitchell asked, enjoying Evelin’s penile ministrations.

“There are so many obvious choices that I thought we’d do something outrageous and original. What’s our guilty pleasure on Netflix? Something we watch to fill in for a half hour before go to sleep?” Evelin gave Mitchell's cock another squeeze and smiled broadly at him, her eyes twinkling.

“Mom!” they cried out in unison.

“How’s that going to work? You're going to play Christy Plunkett and I’m going to play Baxter?” Mitchell asked; a little intrigued.

“I’ve thought about it and we need a better hook. We’re going to play Bonnie and Christy Plunkett,” Evelin said excitedly, letting go of Mitchell’s penis.

“Bonnie and Christy Plunkett are both women,” Mitchell stated the bleeding obvious.

“That’s the kicker and it’s going to make us win! I’m going to be Christy and you're going to be Bonnie. You're getting up in drag,” Evelin chuckled.

Mitchell batted Evelin’s hand away from his cock.

“What do you mean I’m getting up in drag?” Mitchell sat upright in bed.

“Christy and Baxter aren’t a couple on the show and no one will recognise Baxter. You could do a mean Bonnie Plunkett I think. You have the build for it,” Evelin sat up beside her husband.

“You’ll get to wear pantyhose and panties. You get turned when I wear them on so imagine what it will be like to actually wear them yourself,” Evelin leaned in and nibbled her husband’s ear.

“How would we do this?” she had his attention.

Three days before the party

The premise of the sitcom ‘Mom’ follows a dysfunctional mother and daughter duo Bonnie and Christy Plunkett, who, after having been estranged for years while both struggled with addiction, attempt to pull their lives and their relationship together whilst trying to stay sober.

The first thing that the Scottsdale’s decided was that it was going to be no good pretending to be the ‘good’ Bonnie and the ‘good’ Christy because that would be too vanilla for the theme which was Bad Parents so they would dress up as Bonnie and Christy before they both got sober.

Bonnie quite often dressed as a ‘slut’ in the sitcom but Christy was quite demure as she remained sober throughout the series but in the opening credit sequence Christy is depicted as a drunken pole dancer wearing black velvet hotpants, a matching crop-top, black pantyhose, high heels and heavy makeup.

Evelin had the perfect physique to carry off Christy, right down to the blunt-cut blonde bob. Turning Mitchell into Bonnie would take a little work but Evelin was up to the task and Mitchell was a willing subject. Standing six feet tall with his lean frame and long legs Mitchell had the perfect proportions. He would just need a little padding here and there and to adopt some feminine traits.

Finding a suitable outfit for Mitchell had not been as hard as Evelin thought it would be. The black leather miniskirt and matching bolero jacket she had found in a shop at the mall. She estimated Mitchell was a women’s size six and she was right. The mauve satin blouse she had bought also fitted perfectly. The shoes had been difficult because Mitchell wore a women’s size eleven. They found this out whilst visiting Macy’s in the same mall and although Evelin would have preferred black, the only pair they had in that size was white. Evelin had blocked the aisle while Mitchell tried them on because he was embarrassed.

There was no embarrassment when they shopped for underwear because Mitchell often shopped with Evelin for lingerie. He was excited and safe and secure in the company of his wife while they explored the lingerie section of the department store. They needed panties that were sexy but would keep Mitchell’s ‘junk’ tucked and eventually they found some seamless full-cut panties that would fit the bill. They were bright red and trashy, perfect for Bonnie Plunkett. They found the matching B-cup brassiere in size 34 which they smuggled into the fitting room and had Mitchell try on.

“Perfect!” I’ll fill the cups with bunched-up pantyhose to give them some shape. They won’t need much padding because Bonnie is kinda flat-chested,” Evelin whispered excitedly.

Mitchell had no idea what she was talking about and just wanted out of the fitting room before someone from work or one of his friends saw what he was doing.

Amazon came to the rescue when the overnight package containing four pairs of Aristoc women's ultra-shine ten denier sheer to waist pantyhose along with a shoulder-length brunette wig they had ordered arrived promptly overnight as advertised.

Evelin was now ready to transform her tall, skinny husband into Bonnie Plunkett and Mitchell had finally got onboard and had to admit that he was a little excited too.

She had Mitchell sit still while she did his makeup. He was freshly showered and shaved although he had hardly a skerrick of hair on his body and could go three days without shaving and no one would notice. Evelin wouldn’t let Mitchell see himself in a mirror until she had completed his hair and makeup. Once the makeup was completed she fitted the nylon wigcap to his head and pinned the shoulder-length brunette wig to his head and brushed it out.

Mitchell was impatient to see what he looked like and when Evelin put a mirror in front of his face he was astounded at the transformation. He looked very feminine, very sexy and very fuckable. Did he look like Allison Janney the actress who played Bonnie Plunkett? Not exactly but with a little imagination he could be.

Slipping into the sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose was a delightful experience that exceeded Mitchell’s expectations. Evelin helped Mitchell roll the nylons up his legs and pull up the gusset and then smooth out any wrinkles. Needless to say Mitchell sprouted an erection during the process and Evelin did the most practical thing she could and masturbated him. She slipped one of her old nylons over his cock to enhance his pleasure and catch his load.

Tasting the lipstick on his lips, smelling the exotic perfume he was wearing, looking at his feminine face in the mirror, looking at his toned legs swathed in the sheer nylons and feeling the diaphanous pantyhose on his flesh was a unique turn-on and Evelin soon produced a glutinous ball of semen from her husband’s cock caught in the stocking she had rolled over his erection. She dried his shrivelled penis and tucked it between his legs and had Mitchell step into the lycra-nylon blend panties and pulled them up tightly around his buttocks.

Mitchell gasped at the feeling of the panties being slithered over his nylons and smoothed around his genitals and buttocks but thankfully remained flaccid. Evelin was all business as she adjusted the brassiere and stuffed the B-cups with old nylons to give them shape. She helped Mitchell button the blouse and step into the skirt, then she zipped it closed and adjusted the hem. The rayon lining caressed Mitchell’s legs and nearly brought about another erection but Evelin made Mitchell stand up so that she could put the high heels on his feet one at a time.

Mitchell looked in the full-length mirror and was astounded at what he saw: a tall, leggy brunette, with heavy but perfect makeup. She looked feminine, attractive and downright sexy. She looked like Bonnie Plunkett.

“Hello Bonnie,” Evelin whispered in her ear.

It was as if a switch had been made in Mitchell’s brain. He no longer thought of himself as Mitchell; he was Bonnie.

“Let me accessorise you. Winning this competition might come down to the smallest detail,” Evelin explained, leaving Bonnie to stare in wonder at herself in the mirror.

Mitchell had pieced both his ears in his teens and still wore studs occasionally when not at work so Evelin had no problem putting the cheap, sparkly costume jewellery on Bonnie: a gold necklace with faux rubies, matching drop earrings and bangles on each wrist. She lent Bonnie a gold watch that Mitchell had given her as anniversary present, adjusting the band so that it fit her wrist. Another spray of perfume and Bonnie was ready.

Evelin led Bonnie around the room teaching her how to walk in heels and Bonnie soon got the hang of it. It wasn’t as hard as it looked. Evelin coached Bonnie in feminine mannerisms. Allison Janney’s voice was husky and a little ‘Long Island’ so all Mitchell had to do was get the inflection right to sound just like her.

The next three evenings Mitchell presented as Bonnie and was as proficient as she was ever going to be by the time Saturday rolled around. Bonnie became excited every time she dressed and Evelin had a nylon stocking handy, ready to fetch her off when the inevitable erection presented itself. Bonnie practiced walking and talking like Bonnie Plunkett and adopted her mannerisms as much as she could. They watched back to back episodes of Mom and bantered back and forth imitating their characters.

“I’d really like to fuck you while I’m dressed like this,” Bonnie had stated every time she transformed but Evelin politely turned her down.

“When we win the prize you can take Christy home and fuck her brains out. That will be my gift to you,” Evelin teased.

“So when am I going to see Christy?” Bonnie whined.

“I have my Christy costume upstairs in the wardrobe and I know I look good in it but I’m keeping it under wraps until the party. It will be a nice surprise for you,” Evelin teased.

On the evening of the party Evelin helped Mitchell transform into Bonnie. Mitchell didn’t need much help because the process was familiar now and as soon as Mitchell began to transform he became Bonnie not only physically but mentally. Evelin helped Bonnie do her makeup but Bonnie had become reasonably proficient.

Evelin changed into her Christy costume while Bonnie sipped wine in the kitchen waiting expectantly for her to come down and when she did Bonnie was not disappointed.

Evelin made the perfect ‘pole-dancer Christy’. Her diminutive but perky bottom was clad in black velvet hotpants worn over diaphanous black pantyhose, her flat creamy-white midriff was exposed, her upper body clad in a black velvet crop-top that matched her hotpants and emphasised her 32C breasts. She wore black spiky high-heels and heavy makeup with lashings of eyeliner and mascara. Her blonde blunt-cut bob had been teased into a hooker-do.

“Don’t you dare ruin my makeup!” Christy squealed when Bonnie reached for her.

By mutual agreement they would refer to each other only as Bonnie and Christy tonight so they remained in character throughout the party.

“At least let me have a little grope,” Bonnie insisted and Christy let Bonnie feel her up a little.

Bonnie was becoming uncomfortably tumescent so she didn’t push it. Her cock was nicely tucked along her perineum, held in place by her pantyhose and tight panties and she had figured out how to tuck her testes into her inguinal canals so that she had a nice tight ‘V’ in her crotch. Besides she would get to fuck Christy after the party.

They both had another glass of wine. Bonnie was very nervous now that she was about to present herself in public to her friends. She hoped that they would get that she and Christy were just roleplaying and that Mitchell wasn’t some faggot who liked to wear women’s clothes, although if Bonnie was honest with herself she would have admitted that she very much enjoyed presenting femme.

If fact Mitchell was so apprehensive that as the afternoon drew on he had developed a case of nervous diarrhoea. Evelin was worried that Mitchell might not be able to make the party so she had insisted that he evacuate his bowels and douche to ensure that ‘Bonnie” wouldn’t need to use the bathroom at the party. Mitchell swallowed a double-dose of Imodium as further security. Bonnie still had nervous butterflies in her stomach, which she treated with alcohol, but at least she was in no danger of developing ‘the skitters’.

“Take it easy on the booze,” Christy took the third glass of wine out of Bonnie’s hand

Their fingers touched as she did so and Christy held Bonnie’s hand and leaned in and kissed her cheek. Bonnie’s fingers were long and delicate and the red stick-on fingernails matched Bonnie’s lipstick. She had never really noticed how feminine her husband’s hands and fingers were before she’d started dressing him.

“You better drive,” Bonnie tossed the keys to the Nissan Rogue to Christy.

“Bonnie and Christy are a couple of drunks but let’s not overdo it before we win that trip,” Christy admonished Bonnie as Bonnie climbed very unladylike into the passenger seat of the SUV, flashing her red panties.

During the short drive to Lyle and Kathy Benning’s house Christy reminded Bonnie how to act and they tossed one-liners from the TV show back and forth to make sure they remained in character and also so that it would be obvious to the other partygoers who they were supposed to be. They had purposely delayed their departure so that the party would be in full swing when they arrived so that they could make a grand entrance.

Lyle and Kathy Benning opened the door dressed as the Peter and Kate McCallister from 'Home Alone' and burst into laughter when they saw Bonnie and Christy. It wasn’t mocking laughter it was appreciative.

“Well look at you two. You both look amazing, especially you Bonnie Plunkett,” Kathy Benning smiled broadly.

“Hey folks! Look who has just arrived,” Lyle called out to the partygoers.

Bonnie and Christy stood inside the entrance to the Benning’s huge home looking down into the sunken living room at the assembled revellers who all turned in their direction.

There were some easily identifiable characters amongst the attendees: Peter and Lois Griffin, Homer and Marge Simpson, a Patsy Stone from Ab Fab, a Joan Crawford carrying a wire hanger, George and Lucille Booth from Arrested Development, there was even a Frank Gallagher from Shameless. One couple had completely missed the mark and came as the Coneheads. Three couples had come as Peggy and Al Bundy.

Mom! the crowd called out in unison and a huge weight was lifted from Bonnie and Christy’s shoulders.

Everyone knew who they were supposed to be.

The Bennings ushered the Scottsdale into the living room and the party continued. Bonnie and Christy worked the room as a team, staying in character, dropping quips from the show. Christy complained about having to live in a car as a girl and about Bonnie using her smuggle drugs and Bonnie berated Christy about having two children from two different men and working as pole-dancer and stripper.

One or two people at the party might give Bonnie and Christy a run for their money but some of the partygoers hadn't made much of an effort at all. What was apparent immediately to Bonnie was that she was the only man in drag.

Everyone complemented the Scottsdales on how great they looked, telling them that they really nailed their characters. As expected Bonnie took some ribbing but most of it was complimentary. Of course a few of the revellers who were well into their cups tweaked Bonnie’s boobs and put their hands under her skirt to see if she was ‘fully in character’.

Bonnie was confident that she and Christy had a good chance of winning the competition but she was still very nervous and drank every drink she was offered. Some of the men at the party teased her but she was also aware that some of the men were looking at her appreciatively. This made Bonnie uncomfortable but also she felt a little flattered and the booze began to mellow her.

As is want to happen at such events the Scottsdales separated and made their way around the room talking to friends and acquaintances and being introduced to people they hadn't met before. Not everyone had got into the spirit of the party’s theme and some people had not bothered to come in costume but were enjoying the revelry none the less.

Bonnie was aware that a man dressed in a lounge suit around her age was watching her intently and it made her uncomfortable. Every time she moved onto another circle of friends the man followed her but remained in the periphery. Bonnie drank more wine to calm her nerves.

Bonnie looked around to see if she could find Christy in the crowd but she was so diminutive that she could be anywhere. Bonnie stood on her tippytoes and looked over the heads of the revellers and caught a flash of Christie’s platinum blonde hair over in the corner of the room. She was taking to a group of colleagues from the real estate brokerage and seemed to be enjoying herself. Bonnie didn’t want to interrupt her so she made her way to the kitchen looking for more wine.

The straps on her purse kept digging into her shoulder and she took it off and put it on the marble top of the kitchen island and opened the double doors on the largest household refrigerator in existence. The Bennings liked big things: big house, big pool, big gardens, big furniture, big cars.

She opened a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc and filled the glass almost to the brim. Bonnie needed a cigarette and normally when they attended these functions she would sneak off with Evelin, now Christy of course, and smoke an illicit ciggy out in the Benning’s garden. She snatched up her purse and made her way out the back door.

Holding on to the handrail she stepped cautiously on the granite steps leading down to the patio. Although Bonnie had mastered walking in heels she trod carefully because she suddenly realised how tipsy she was. She could only use one hand to hold the handrail because the other held her wine glass and she tucked her purse under her arm. It was cool out and Bonnie pulled her bolero jacket tightly around her as her heels click-clacked on the polished stone floor of the patio. She followed the path through the garden to the pagoda. The pagoda was so ostentatious that could almost be called a folly but at least the sandstone wall surrounding the reclusive nook kept out the breeze.

The pagoda was lit by fairy lights and Bonnie put her wine down on the sandstone plinth and rummaged in her purse looking for her smokes. Her hand was shaking as she extracted a cigarette from the package. She regretted that she hadn’t insisted that Christy come with her. Bonnie put the cigarette between her lips and struggled to find the Bic lighter in her purse.

“Here. Let me,” the voice surprised her and she physically jumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man laughed.

It was the man who had been staring at her so intently at the party. He leaned in and offered Bonnie a light from his gold lighter and then he lit his own cigarette.

“Steve Marshall. I moved into the house across from Lyle and Kathy last week,” the man said by way of introduction.

Steve was tall and handsome and Bonnie could smell a hint of cologne.

“And I am…” Bonnie was about to introduce herself as Mitchell Scottsdale.

“Bonnie Plunket. Please don’t ruin the illusion for me,” Steve cut her off.

“You look just like her. Tall, attractive, slim and sexy,” Steve smiled; his brilliant white teeth set in a sensuous mouth and tanned face.

Bonnie found it strange that she should think of him this way but she supposed it was all part of the complete immersion in her character. She took a gulp of wine and returned the smile.

She could sense Steve studying her face and admiring her body and her nervousness returned. She shook her head.

“You know I’m just a character from a television show,” Bonnie whispered but Steve stepped into her.

“I’m from DC. Did you know that DC has the largest population of transgender women in the continental USA? I should know; I’ve dated a few,” Steve said, apropos of nothing.

“That might well be Steve but I’m not a transgender woman. I’m a…” Bonnie stammered but Steve cut her off.

He gently took her cigarette and wine glass from her and put them on the plinth and then he took Bonnie in his arms and kissed her.

Bonnie was stunned. She knew that she should fight back. She knew that she should knee this guy in the balls and kick his ass or at least attempt to; he was heavily muscled under that suit. She could feel his strength as he held her in his arms.

She didn’t know if it was the booze, the raunchy clothing and makeup she was wearing, her total absorption and preoccupation with her character or if she was just flattered or a combination of them all. More frightening was that she was genuinely attracted to this man. Whatever it was, instead of fighting him she allowed Steve to kiss her.

The kiss was tender and sensual. His lips were soft and he held her against his hard body and she seemed to fit right into him. She always felt feminine when presenting as Bonnie but she felt downright womanly in Steve’s embrace. Her mind was swirling with the enormity of what was happening to her and when Steve slipped his tongue into her mouth she thought it was the most seductive and arousing thing that had ever happened to her.

Bonnie was intently aware of the provocative way she was dressed. The feel of her silky panties against her diaphanous pantyhose, the caress of the hem of her skirt stirring against her gossamer–sheathed legs, the smell and the taste of her makeup and perfume, the soft flutter of her hair on her neck, the way her high heels caused her to stand proactively. She intuitively put her arms around Steve’s neck, lifted one leg, and leaned into him. She opened her mouth and offered him her tongue.

Bonnie was becoming concupiscent, her penis becoming uncomfortably bloated between her legs. Steve put his hand on her buttocks and squeezed. Then he rubbed her skirt against her ass and she gasped. She could feel the hard lump in his trousers pressing into her and she relished the idea that it was she who had affected this man that way. She had beguiled him and she revelled in her seductiveness.

“What the fuck!” Christy screamed as she strode across the granite flagstones.

Her screech dissolved the illusion and Bonnie came to her senses and pushed Steve away from her.

“Hey, we were just having a little fun. You know Bonnie Plunkett can’t resist a handsome man,” Steve tried to make light of the situation.

“Fuck off!” Christy snarled and Steve did exactly that.

He retreated down the pathway towards the lights of the house.

“She fucking loved it! Give me five more minutes alone with her and I’d have had her sucking my cock,” Steve taunted as he disappeared into the night.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Christy hissed at Bonnie.

Bonnie was mortified. She knew that what she was doing was a terrible breach of trust and more importantly it was downright offensive and bizarre. As people often do when they are caught doing something that they shouldn’t, Bonnie deflected the blame on Christy.

“It’s all your fucking fault! You dressed me like this. You turned me into a slutty tart to win some stupid fucking contest. You feminised me and insisted that I act and think like a woman!’ Bonnie hissed at Christy.

“Yeah but I never expected my husband to turn into some kind of homo! If all it takes to turn you into a sissy fag is for you to put on some nylons and lipstick then I wonder what kind of person you really are?” Christy spat and immediately regretted it.

She wished she could take back her words so that she and Bonnie could sit down and talk about what had happened like two sensible adults but it was too late.

Bonnie snatched up her purse and stormed away without so much as a glance at Christy. She found the back gate to the Benning estate and let herself out onto Maple Street and walked away without looking back.

Christy knew that she should go after Bonnie and apologise and talk sensibly to her but she was just too downright angry, and if she admitted it to herself, she was also insanely jealous. Instead she followed the pathway back to the house, intent on taking Steve Marshall to task. Unbelievably she still thought that she and Bonnie had a good chance of winning that trip to Cabo. Maybe it was all worth it.

Cedar Park – After the Party

Living in an exclusive suburb like Forest Gardens had its advantages but there had recently been a startling development. Some of the criminal element from the nearby city had started to drift into Forest Gardens attracted by the affluence of the community. There had been a string of car thefts and break-ins. So far there had been no violence committed on the residents of the community but a man had been robbed at gunpoint a few weeks ago. A Neighborhood Watch had been established and police patrols had been stepped up but a sprawling development like Forest Gardens was a difficult place to police.

Bonnie guessed that it was two members of this criminal element who had accosted her and forced her into the Cedar Park pavilion. Under the fluorescent light she got a good look at her assailants.

They didn’t look like gangbangers. They looked like anyone you might pass on the city street. They were wearing jeans, sneakers and hoodies and appeared to be well groomed. Bonnie guessed their ages to be mid-twenties. They seemed more like opportunists than hardened criminals. That said, they had forced her into the pavilion and their intentions seemed far from honourable.

“Sit there bitch!” the two men forced Bonnie down onto a bench made from recycled plastic.

Forest Gardens Developments liked to advertise that they were an environmentally friendly company.

The two men towered over Bonnie who tugged modestly at the hem of her skirt. They snatched her purse and scattered her belongings on the picnic table. Bonnie’s flight or fight response kicked in but the two young men would easily catch her if she tried to run in her heels and she realised that there was no way that she could take on these two young men in a fight. She figured that once they realised that she wasn’t a woman they would let her go, after stealing everything of value from her of course.

“What’s this shit? Where’s the cash and credit cards?” one of the men growled.

The contents of Bonnie’s little purse were pathetic. Her ‘essentials’ consisted of her iPhone, a compact, a tube of lipstick, a hairbrush, two sticks of gum, a package of Marlborough Menthol Lights and a Bic lighter. The Scottsdales were going to a party and Christy was driving so Bonnie had not taken her wallet or any cash with her.

“There aren’t any. I’ve been to a fancy dress party and my wife drove,” Bonnie realised that she shouldn’t have said anything but it was too late.

“Show me that fucking watch,” one of the men grabbed her wrist and snatched her watch.

Bonnie knew that resistance was futile and if all the men took from her were the watch and her phone it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Both could be replaced and the security features on her phone made it virtually worthless to them but she supposed they knew people who could wipe the phone clean.

One of the men picked up and began to examine her iPhone while the other studied the watch Mitchell had bought Evelin for their anniversary. The watch was gold and valuable and it was engraved on the back.

“You know I’m not really a woman right?” Bonnie whispered.

She wished that she had not drunk as much as she had, her head was still swimming.

“Yeah we kinda figured that once we got you in the light. You’re pretty hot though, better looking than some of the trannies working the streets in the city,” the man holding her watch didn’t look up at her but what he had said sounded a little ominous.

“What are we going to do with this bitch?” the man holding Bonnie’s phone said to the other.

“You ever fuck a tranny?” the man studying Bonnie’s watch replied, grinning evilly at Bonnie.

“Hey, hey, hey! I can get you cash. Give me my phone and I’ll get my wife to bring all the cash we have in the safe at home right here. We don’t live that far away. You take the money and I can claim it on my insurance. I’ll give the police a bogus description I promise,” Bonnie began to plead.

Bonnie didn’t think the man was serious about fucking a tranny. He’d said it flippantly and she guessed it was more of a threat to scare her than it was a real proposal.

“You hear that Mike? She’s going to give us her cash and tell the cops it was someone else,” the man holding her phone said sarcastically.

“Sure. I’ll tell the cops it was two gangbangers who robbed me,” Bonnie hung onto a glimmer of hope.

“Sounds kinda racists to me Jerry. Kinda like… what do they call it... racial profiling,” the man using the name Mike sniggered.

There was no doubt in Bonnie’s mind that Mike and Jerry were not their real names.

“Let’s go back to my original question. How you ever fucked a tranny before?” Mike said.

“No but she’s hot. She’s pretty and she’s a tall drink of water, check out those legs,” Jerry leered at Bonnie who tried to pull the hem of her skirt further down her legs.

“What’s your name honey? Not your guy name, we don’t wanna to spoil the illusion. What name were you using at the fancy dress party?” Jerry asked.

“Bonnie Plunkett. You know who she is?” Bonnie answered trying to turn their threats into nothing more than banter.

“Yeah, I caught the show. You do look like her,” Jerry replied.

“Open your phone,” Mike handed Bonnie her iPhone.

Bonnie was relieved. It looked like the men were going to agree to her proposal to give them cash. Evelin was going to be pissed but there was no doubt that she would get the money to save her husband.

The face recognition didn’t work so Bonnie typed in her password and then Mike snatched the phone from her. He fiddled with it and put it down on the table beside his own phone.

“Don’t you want me to call Christy?” Bonnie was not going to use Evelin’s real name.

The less there men knew about her and Evelin the better.

“Not yet. Stand up and let me get a good look at you,” Mike held out his hand and Bonnie obliged.

She got unsteadily to her feet and had to hold onto Mike’s hand. She wasn’t sure if it was booze or fear or combination of both but she found it difficult to just stand upright.

“You having some trouble there honey? Let me help you,” Mike pulled Bonnie into his arms and held her close examining her face.

In her heels Bonnie was a half head taller than Mike.

“Damn you are a good looking woman for a guy,” Mike chuckled.

Bonnie didn’t know what to say. Steve Marshall had been enamoured by her at the party and now this thug was coming onto her. Bonnie hadn’t thought that presenting herself this way would have this effect on men. She knew that she looked very similar to Allison Janney who is an attractive woman but she didn’t think that men would actually find her romantically appealing. Despite her predicament she was rather flattered.

Mike leaned in and kissed her and Bonnie was shocked. She pushed back against him but he held her tight. He was strong and muscular and Bonnie was unsteady on her heels and still drunk. She was no match for him.

Mike held Bonnie in a stringent embrace but his lips were soft and yielding. Just like when Steve had kissed her earlier she felt herself feeling very womanly and she melted a little. She could taste her lipstick and smell her perfume, her undergarments and pantyhose seemed to be caressing her skin. She was aware that the hem of her skirt was tickling her thighs.

Being held like this against her will seemed to give Bonnie licence to capitulate. What could she do? She was in the clutches of two strong men who were menacing and predisposed towards violence if they didn’t get what they wanted.

She clasped her hands together behind Mike’s neck, just so she wouldn’t fall of course. She returned the kiss and opened her mouth a little, just so that Mike wouldn’t hurt her of course. When Mike slipped his tongue into her mouth her tongue met his, just so Mike would think she was willing, even though she wasn’t of course. She rubbed her body against his, just so she wouldn’t fall of course.

Bonnie knew that she was lying to herself and trying to justify her actions but she couldn’t believe how exiting and exhilarating this was. She’d been aroused when she first started dressing as Bonnie. Christy had to masturbate her to stop Bonnie ruining the ensemble because she kept tenting her skirt. But it wasn’t just the clothes, lingerie, makeup, heels and the wig. Something else was going on. She couldn’t imagine Mitchell Scottsdale kissing this young Lothario but Bonnie Plunkett was enjoying it immensely.

She felt herself becoming uncomfortably tumescent; her cock was hardening along her perineum, only the gusset of her pantyhose and tight lycra-nylon blend panties held it in place. Mike’s hand went to her buttocks and he began to squeeze it and Bonnie felt herself becoming harder. She could feel Mike’s erection pressing against her belly.

A thousand unrelated thoughts ran through her mind: What was Christy doing now? What would Christy do if she saw what Bonnie was doing? What was Jerry doing with her phone? How much longer were these two men going to keep her captive? What was she going to do if they made her do the things she suspected they were going to make her do? Why did she like it when Steve Marshall kissed her? Why did she like it when Mike kissed her?

More importantly, why were her fingers stroking Mike’s cock through his jeans?

Bonnie came out of her reverie and became startled. Her hand was indeed on Mike’s erect penis and she had no idea how it had got there. Mike was squeezing and stroking her ass, the rayon lining of her skirt sliding up her panties exposing her buttocks. With her skirt rucked up she could feel the cool night air on the tops her thighs and her genitals but Mike’s hands were warm and they stroked her panties as his tongue wriggled in her mouth and his cock throbbed in her hand.

Bonnie broke the kiss.

“If I do this will you let me go?” she whispered in Mike’s ear.

“Depends what you do and how good you are at doing it?” Mike gave her a cute grin.

Bonnie kissed him again and squeezed his cock. She knew that what she was doing was wrong. She was married to Evelin. She was a respected member of the community. She was a heterosexual male. She was horny and dressed like a slut and it was exciting and she felt something she had never felt before and she liked it.

These were all truths that Bonnie did not try to deny. Why she did try to do unzip Mike’s pants? Because she wanted to feel what his cock felt like in her hand. When Mike put his hand on her thigh and stroked her flesh through the diaphanous fabric of her pantyhose she wondered if it felt the same for Evelin when he did it to her. Did she relish the feel of a man’s strong fingers lightly caressing her leg so it felt like a thousand butterflies were stroking her skin with their wings?

Did her vagina begin to moisten like Bonnie’s cock, leaking pre-seminal fluid into her panties? Did Evelin feel her feminine frailty when she was in the arms of a strong man who held her close, fondling her, pressing his manhood into her, kissing her with passion and need? Were the feelings that Bonnie was experiencing the same as what Mitchell’s wife felt when he did those things to her?

It didn’t matter.

Because it was what Bonnie was feeling and nothing else mattered.

She moaned into Mike’s mouth as he stroked her thighs. She had finally released his organ from his jeans and she took it in her hand and felt the raw power of it. Mike sighed as Bonnie traced the veins with her fingertips. She paused to express a bubble of pre-ejaculate from the eye and massage it into his fraenulum.

For a brief second she wondered what Jerry was doing. Was he watching? Was he disgusted? But thoughts of Jerry and Christy nee Evelin dissipated when Mike rubbed the front of Bonnie’s panties. The perfect V in her panties felt deliciously decadent. Mike had not intended to treat the creature he was holding in his arms like a real woman. Wasn’t she was just like the other trannies Mike had picked up in gay bars? He’d let them suck his cock and if they were pretty he might even fuck them.

No she wasn’t. Bonnie was exceptional, not only in her appearance but in her innocence and naiveté. He and Jerry had forced the woman into the pavilion with the sole intention of robbing her. When they had discovered that she was a transvestite at first they were amused. They found the story of her dressing up for a fancy dress party humorous but then something else had happened and all Mike could think of was his need to possess this woman.

Bonnie began to stroke Mike’s cock and it engorged to full tumescence. Her own penis was swollen and uncomfortable, wedged between her legs. She gasped when Mike put his hand inside her underwear and freed it from between her legs. He didn’t want to touch her raw flesh but stroking it though her panties and pantyhose wasn’t gay, was it? Not that it mattered. There was no one else to witness what was happening in the pavilion except for his buddy Jerry.

Bonnie felt her knees buckle when Mike softly kneaded her cock through the layers of satin, lycra and nylon. She had never felt anything this wonderful, not even when Christy had put a stocking over her cock and masturbated her.

She kissed Mike with earnest passion and stroked his cock a little faster. The evil part of her psyche wanted know what it would feel like when Mike unloaded his issue in her hand.

But Mike had other ideas.

He took his hand out from under her skirt and placed both hands on her shoulders and gently pushed. Bonnie wasn’t stupid, she knew what he wanted and for an instant she panicked and thought about trying to run but she’d come this far so what did she have to lose? No one was going to see her. Didn’t she want know what it felt like to suck a cock? She was aware that she had initially been hesitant and non-compliant but there was no way that defence would stand now.

She was kissing this man, encouraging him to fondle her whilst unzipping him and masturbating him. She hadn't been forced to do that had she?

These thought’s rumbled around in her mind as she dropped to her knees. She was aware that she could no longer even blame the alcohol. She was far from sober but she was also far from drunk. The alcohol had given her just enough Dutch courage to do what she secretly wanted to do.

Mike’s cock was level with her face. It was magnificent. Long, thick and veiny with a globule of clear precum glistening on the eye. She stuck out her tongue and lapped at it, relishing the sweetness of the nectar. Then she took the mighty weapon into her mouth and suckled it. Bonnie had been fellated by Christy so many times that she had a good idea how it should be performed to provide maximum pleasure to the recipient and she went to work on Mike's cock.

Once again she needed to justify her actions. If she did this one deed for him maybe they would let her go. Maybe they would forget about the money. No one need know that Bonnie had sucked off a young thug next to the playground where children would be playing in a few hours’ time.

Mike’s cock felt spongy and pliable whilst remaining rigid. She explored his fraenulum with the tip of her tongue and when Mike moaned she smiled. She swallowed the whole thing and began to suck, running her red-lipsticked lips up and down the shaft whilst her tongue lapped at his glans. A generous flow of precum leaked from the organ and she relished the sweet taste as she swallowed it.

Mike looked down on the gorgeous mature woman sucking his cock. Her beautiful big eyes enhanced by her makeup, her fine cheekbones rouged and powdered, her lips coated in bright red lipstick slavering his manhood. He didn’t have to use his imagination much to imagine that it was indeed Bonnie Plunkett sucking his penis.

When Bonnie cupped his scrotum with one hand and gently caressed it he could almost sense the semen roiling in his sac ready to explode out of his mighty phallus.

Bonnie sensed it too. She suddenly realised that she was stroking her own cock through her panties and that she too was close to extremis.

Mike put his hands on Bonnie’s head and began to fuck her face as his orgasm washed over him. He cried out with the ecstasy of it. His knees buckled and his legs shook as torrents of semen burst from his cock and filled Bonnie’s mouth.

Bonnie squealed with delight around the big cock filling her mouth. She felt the fleshy prong quiver and pulse as Mike ejaculated, filling her mouth with his warm creamy issue. It was musky and salty and beautiful and she slavered at his cock trying to milk every drop from his quivering penis. She was furiously stroking herself and on the verge of orgasm when suddenly her face was ripped away from the ejaculating organ.

Jerry had put down the phone and pushed his hands under Bonnie’s armpits and he dragged her to her feet. Bonnie was dazed and confused, overcome with lust and on the verge of orgasm when she was suddenly ripped away from the source of her pleasure. A final rope of Mike’s semen flew from his cock as her face was pulled away and splattered on her cheek.

Jerry lifted Bonnie onto the table, laid her on her back and opened her legs.

“No! No! No!” Bonnie screamed.

She knew what was coming and this was definitely not part of her fantasy but Jerry didn’t care and apparently neither did Mike because he hastily put his cock away and ran to the other side of table and grabbed Bonnie’s wrists and held them down on the table.

“Looks like someone is gettin’ a fuckin’,” Mike growled.

Jerry said nothing. His cock was already out, his pants around his ankles; his steely weapon looked almost evil. It was long, not as thick as Mike’s but still girthy and it was leaking precum. He pulled aside the gusset of Bonnie’s panties and tore open her pantyhose. Her puckered bud was exposed.

But not for long.

Jerry spat in his hand and rubbed the spit on his cock and then he began to push it into Bonnie’s anus.

Bonnie screamed as Jerry’s cock stretched her sphincter and then she began to cry as the weapon slid slowly into her anus. The pain was not unbearable but she felt filled and stretched. His cock felt elephantine as her anus expanded to take the girth. At least the copious amount of precum that was leaking from his glans provided some lubrication.

She stupidly thanked Christy for insisting that she douche and take the Imodium before they left for the party. She was being anally ravished against her will and all she could think about was at least there would be no faeces. What a stupid thought to think of a time like this.

Slowly Bonnie became aware of her senses. She could see her long nylon-sheathed legs held high, her white high heels prominent under the fluorescent lighting as Jerry held her ankles against his shoulders. She could feel her nylons caressing her flesh as he began to move in and out of her, her panties massaging her scrotum and rubbing on her still erect penis. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, the buttons on her satin blouse straining; her hair was fanned out on the table. She looked like a slattern lying on the picnic table with her legs open, a strange men between them, fucking her.

Something had changed.

Her sphincter had loosened and her anus dilated and she was now able to accommodate Jerry’s hard cock quite comfortably. Little sparklets of delight radiated from her sphincter and deep mellow waves of pleasure were emanating from her anus and her prostate.

“Oh my!” Bonnie sighed.

She couldn’t believe that she was experiencing pleasure rather than pain. The pleasure was deep and satisfying and illicit and if she had felt like a slut when she was kissing Mike and sucking his cock, she felt like an utter trollop now because she was thoroughly enjoying what was happening to her.

Mike sensed the shift in Bonnie’s demeanour and he released her wrists and picked up his phone. Bonnie kicked a little and Jerry held her ankles tighter until he realised what she wanted. Jerry let go of her ankles and to his amazement Bonnie locked her legs around him and pulled him close. The feel of her nylon-clad thighs on flesh intensified his pleasure. She reached for him and Jerry lowered his face to hers and they kissed.

Jerry fucked Bonnie with long slow strokes and kissed her passionately, their tongues intertwining, her heels digging into him, encouraging him to fuck her harder.

Waves of intense delight radiated from Bonnie’s anus, her panties were tented and soaked with her precum. When Jerry bent down to kiss her his belly pressed on her groin, pressing her panties and pantyhose against her rampant prick.

She squirmed and moaned like a whore as pleasure raged through her body. The feel of her garments on her flesh, the taste of her lipstick and the smell of her perfume all amplified the feelings that were coursing through her senses.

Jerry pulled her tight and his tongue waggled in her mouth and he groaned as he inseminated her. She felt the hot gush of his spend filling her stretched anus, his cock palpitating as he ejaculated deep inside her tight anus. It triggered her orgasm and her cock quivered and she filled her panties with her own issue. The intense satisfaction burgeoning from her genitals amalgamated with the deep undulations of intense pleasure stemming from her anus.

Jerry held her tight and she clung to him as their climaxes peaked and began to slowly subside. The decadent lasciviousness that radiated from deep inside Bonnie didn't fully dissipate, she still felt a little concupiscent but now her ardour was being replaced by guilt.

She began to realise the enormity of what she had done as Jerry pulled his deflating penis from her ass and his semen ran down between her legs and soaked her nylons.

She lay spread-eagled on the table unable to move. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Of course she could tell no one what had happened but she would have to live with the guilt.

Bonnie suddenly became aware that Mike was playing with his phone and her iPhone. What the fuck was he doing?

“I airdropped your contacts into my phone,” Mike waved his phone at her menacingly.

“I’ll send you a few snippets of the video we took. You look really cute sucking my cock but the best part is you wrapping your legs around my buddy, encouraging him to fuck you,” Mike chuckled.

“We’re heading off now. Tell Kirsty or Christy or whatever the fuck her name is not to worry about the money. Just bring five hundred dollars cash with you next time we meet,” Mike stuffed his phone into his back pocket.

“I’ll send you the details, the date and time. I’m sure you’ll find some excuse to tell your wife as to why you need to spend the night in the city. Get us a nice room, order some champagne through room service and make sure you're dressed all sassy for us Bonnie, we don’t want to see Mitch,” Mike chuckled and followed Jerry out of the pavilion.

“What the fuck?” Bonnie couldn’t decipher what he’d said to her; he might as well as been speaking Swahili.

She suddenly realised that Mike had called her Mitch. He’d found her real identity on her phone.

She pressed her palms flat on the table and pushed herself into a sitting position. She adjusted her panties as best she could and pulled down her skirt as she slid off the table.

Her belongings were strewn across the table next to her purse. They had even left the gold watch behind. She reached for her cigarettes, suddenly aware that her panties were wet both front and back. There was nothing she could do about that but she could fix her face. He put down the cigarettes and picked up the compact and powdered her face and fixed her lipstick and then she brushed her hair.

She took stock of the situation. Except for the hole in her pantyhose and her semen-sodden panties, which thankfully were covered by her skirt, outwardly at least, she looked exactly like she had when she left the party. She threw her makeup in her purse and put on the watch and checked the time. The whole episode had taken a little over half an hour.

Bonnie lit a cigarette and was wondering what to do next when her phone pinged. She clicked the link in the text she had received and was mortified to see a video snippet of her being fucked by Jerry. She had her legs wrapped around him and was kissing him and her face was clearly visible. Another snippet arrived soon after. This time she was on her knees wilfully sucking Mike’s cock.

They had her contact list. They had asked for five hundred dollars cash which she could easily accumulate without Evelin finding out. But what about ‘the next time we meet’? What did Mike mean by that?

“Don’t be stupid Bonnie, you know exactly what that means,” she said to herself.

She took a deep breath, adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder and found the pathway and began to walk home, her semen-sodden panties and the pleasant ache in her anus a reminder of what had happened. She could still taste Mike’s semen in her mouth.

When Bonnie arrived home Evelin was waiting up for her still dressed as Christy.

“We won! We won the fucking trip to Cabo!” Christy waved the tickets at Bonnie and then flung herself at her.

Obviously Bonnie’s indiscretion with Steven Marshall had been forgiven.

“Come on Bonnie Plunkett, take me upstairs and fuck me,” Christy giggled.

Christy had driven home but she was definitely a little tipsy. Winning the trip to Cabo and a few stiff drinks had changed Christy’s demeanour and Bonnie was relieved. She’d have nothing to explain if she played her cards right.

Bonnie excused herself briefly and went into the bathroom where she brushed her teeth and changed her pantyhose and panties. She joined Christy on the bed and gave her the fucking she had asked for. Bonnie was able to last quite a while before she orgasmed because she had recently climaxed in the park. The whole time Bonnie was fucking Christy she imagined that it was her on the bottom being fucked dressed in her slutty clothes.

The next day while Evelin was out for her morning run Mitchell Scottsdale went into his home office and locked the door. He fished the pantyhose and panties that he had been wearing the night before out from where he had hidden them. He put them to his nose and inhaled Bonnie’s perfume and the musky scent of semen and in his head he became Bonnie. Mitchell stuck his erect cock in the leg of the pantyhose and draped the panties over his face and tapped his phone and watched the video of Bonnie sucking Mike’s cock and being fucked by Jerry while he masturbated.

Bonnie wondered when the text from Mike would be forthcoming directing her to meet his demands. Bonnie would need to do a little shopping before she went into the city to meet her new friends.

The End

Author's Note: As always comments are encouraged and appreciated

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Not heard the word

leeanna19's picture

Not heard the word mellifluous before. It's a very sexy story that will do well on Literotica and Fictionmania.



joannebarbarella's picture

Michele Nylons story. Our hero now becomes our heroine.