My First Blowjob

byStephanieSeymour©

I wake up early on a Wednesday morning. No work today. I've called in sick just because I don't feel like going. My live-in girlfriend is already gone to her job. I'm home alone. My first thought: turn on the computer and check out some porn.

Nothing weird. Half-naked models stripping off their lingerie. Start with still photos. Later move to video.

The longer I look, the deeper I fall into a lust trance. I started off wanting to fuck the girls in the photos. Now, I want to be them. I want to feel the G-string creeping up my ass crack, the under wire cups of a bra pushing into my chest.

I log into an AOL chat room where fags in my area meet for sex. I use my cross-dressing name, Penny, and put out my feelers: "Anyone looking for a hook-up?" I ask. No takers at first. Then a guy offers to fuck me up the ass. He says "no thanks" when I tell him I'm into wearing women's clothes. I download striptease videos while waiting for a mate.

Then comes Bob352. He sends me a private message, describing himself as a professional white male. 32 years old. Good shape.

Loves cross dressers.

"Perfect," I write. "Wanna fuck?"

He says he must be discreet because he's got a girlfriend.

"Me too," I write.

He says we should meet in public.

"Wanna do something kinky?" I ask.

Forty minutes later, my car is parked in front of a lingerie shop that's just opening. The shop is wedged between a nail salon and a pizza joint at a suburban strip mall. I'm leaning against the front of the store and watching for Bob's Honda Accord. When he pulls up and gets out, I see that the description he gave me is accurate. He's wearing a blue collared shirt and khaki pants. Wouldn't stand out in a crowd if he tried.

We shake hands like he's just sold me a car. I look him dead in the eye and say, "I'm going to let you cum in my mouth."

Bob smiles devilishly.

"I know," he says.

A bell rings as I push open the shop door. The clerk behind the counter is a young punk who is wearing a Korn T-shirt and reading a magazine. He looks up at the two men who've just walked into his shop.

"The leather masks, whips and shit like that are in the back," he says.

Bob rolls his eyes.

"Actually," I say, "we're more into bras and panties."

Bob smiles and nods vigorously.

The clerk shakes his head. He says "whatever" and goes back to reading his magazine.

We're the first customers. It's just the clerk, Bob, me and a store full of lace, leather and sheer fabric. The whole place smells like potpourri. I recognize some of the garments some mannequins are wearing. They're the same ones a few of the local strippers wear on stage. They must shop here.

Bob and I find a rack of lacy pink bras and panties. I pick out a 36a bra and matching boy-short panties. Bob nods his approval. I pay with cash and we rush to our cars.

Bob follows me to my house, a 10 minute drive. He parks in one of the spaces assigned to my apartment, making no attempt to hide his visit. We agree on an emergency plan: If my girlfriend comes home, he's going to say he's a computer tech from my company and that he's helping me install a security program.

I lead him to the office where I keep my computer. I cue up my favorite striptease and tell him to have a seat. A thin brunette with short hair gyrates to a techno beat on the screen. Bob leans back in the leather chair and watches. A bulge emerges in his pants.

I slip into a bathroom across the hall and strip out of my T-shirt and jeans. I pull the bra across my chest and clasp the wire hooks behind my back. The under wire cups press into my flesh. My cock jumps. I slide on the shoulder straps. By pulling up some flesh, I can almost fill out the cups. Not bad for a guy.

I pull up the boy-short panties. They hug my ass cheeks like a friendly set of hands. My cock and balls fit neatly up front.

When I return to the office, Bob has his pants and boxer shorts around his ankles. His stiffy is at least eight inches.

I like this guy's style: right down to business.

I kneel between Bob's legs. Our eyes lock.

"I've never done this before," I say.

"Me neither," he says. "Not with a guy."

With our eyes still held on each other, I wrap my lips around the head of his fuckstick. I slowly slide down his pole. Half of his meat enters me before I pull back. My head dips again. Bob's eyes roll back. He moans. I start to make like an oil well. Each time my head goes down, I take more of Bob's cock into my mouth. Pre-cum splashes across my tongue. Looks like I may have struck a geyser. Bob grabs the back of my head and makes me take his whole cock. I gag the first time but quickly open my throat and let him fuck my face. Each time I go down, I get a nose full of pubic hair. Bob smells like Irish Spring soap.

It's clear I'm in his hands now. He has total control over my body. His strokes quicken.

Then it comes.

A tidal wave of jizz I never thought possible. Bob holds my head in place to make sure I take it all. But it's impossible. Cum dribbles out of the corner of my mouth. It flows down my chin and neck like a warm river. Bob finishes and pulls out.

I look up at him with a mouthful of jizz in my pursed lips.

"Show me," he says.

I open up and flip my tongue. More jizz runs down my cheeks.

"Now swallow," Bob says.

His warm, salty juice slides down my throat. Then I lean back against a wall and pull my cock out of my panties. It takes two strokes for me to cum all over my stomach. Bob looks at me with disgust.

"Rub it on your face," he says.

His tone leaves no doubt that it's an order. I use the edge of my hand to scrape the cum into my palm. I thoroughly facialize myself from chin to forehead, my juices mingling with Bob's juices on my skin.

Bob pulls up his underwear and pants and fastens his belt. Then he makes the most unexpected -- yet perfect-- move. He walks over to me and slaps me across the face.

"Cunt," he says.

He unhurriedly walks out of the house. I hear his car door close and his engine start. The car drives away, leaving me on the floor of the office. I feel sticky, lonely and depraved.

I'm a piece of shit, but I love it.

After I shower, I drive to a local convenience store and ditch the panties and bra in a trash can. I vow to never do this again.

A promise I know I'll never keep.

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