Reality Slut Ch. 01

It has been some time since my last story. In the meantime, my desire to dress in lingerie has not subsided.

Before getting on to the detail, I'll explain my current intentions. Sometimes, the stories I read here are long, and that can prove somewhat troublesome. As such, I intend to keep my stories short but hopefully no less arousing as a result. I can't guarantee that, of course, because every word I write is essential to the story - so apologies in advance if they do seem long.

I must confess that my first two stories were entirely fictitious (apart from the early part of the first chapter concerning my crossdressing experience at university).

They were written whilst I was with my girlfriend of some years. I was obviously secretly pulling on her black panties and masturbating whenever I could and I doubt she suspected a thing for a long while.

One night towards the end, however, we had a blazing argument and I decamped to her rich friend's house, which we had been asked to look after, and used my time alone to dress-up in the best friend's expensive and exquisite lingerie. For the first time, I also tried make up. When my girlfriend arrived the next day, she asked me if I was wearing eyeliner. I denied it, made my excuses to go to the bathroom and took a look. There was an ever so slight trace on one eye, so I scrubbed it off and returned as though nothing had happened. The relationship ended about 2 or 3 months later.

I was pretty messed up by the whole affair, but took regular solace in the evenings after work by wearing the few pairs of panties she had (knowingly?) left behind when she removed her stuff.

Soon, I started to expand my second-hand wardrobe by purchasing panties from a well known Internet lingerie retailer. I started going crazy for panties, and soon had a collection of around 10 pairs, predominantly all in my favourite styles - skimpy, thong-backed, sheer or lacy, jet black or hot pink. In short, they were the kind of knickers I imagined a slut would put on only to pull off later, wet from her pussy once she had found a guy and brought him home to fuck her every hole.

And pull them down I did. But not for cock - not just yet.

I started to telephone live sex chat lines, advertising myself as a horny crossdresser in a pair of panties wanting to give head. The response was overwhelming. I used to masturbate for hours on end hearing what men would do to me and my knickers.

Before long, I built up the courage to purchase a butt plug and I began to speak to people live (as opposed to via message exchanges) as I rubbed my rock hard cock and stretched my little virgin hole. I was in heaven.

Soon, I began to pretend every now and then that I was a hot, 22 year-old brunette dressed in a lacy black bra with matching panties, hold-up stockings and very, very high heeled boots.

Not knowing whether I was doing it to rationalise my ex-girlfriend's infidelity, I adopted her name and would talk at length to men about how I wanted them to pull my hair as they fucked me in the mouth or stuffed my pussy or arse from behind.

They all loved the fact I was a complete slut (whether in my male or female voice) - but nobody could have enjoyed it as much as me.

There was one thing, however, that I could never offer, mainly out of fear than anything else - the oft requested meeting in person.

One night I got talking (as a man) to a man. He seemed pretty normal and more than able to hold a conversation littered with sexual images and horny suggestions as opposed to the blunt demands that most were able to manage.

As usual, he started to ask if we could meet. I felt comfortable enough to reply that it made me nervous to consider the prospect of a stranger coming to my flat solely so I could swallow every drop of his hot cum.

He replied (quite rightly, I thought at the time) that I had advertised myself as a crossdressing slut desperate to suck cock and that he found it slightly odd that I should not want to deliver on my promise. He reassured me he was not an axe-murderer (a line that was to stand me in good stead for future meetings with others) and asked me to write down his mobile 'phone number. As soon as I had done so, he ended the call.

Trembling with nerves, I just about managed to get the receiver back into its cradle. My cock was harder than I had ever known it to be and the pink, gingham-patterned, sheer thong I was wearing rode tightly up against my hole.

It only took me a few moments to realise that, as advertised, I actually was desperate for cock, so I picked up the phone and dialled his number.

Like all good salesmen who have first indentified an expression of interest, his manner was much more brisk and instructive when he realised I had come back for more.

He took my address, explained where he was and said it would take about half an hour for him to arrive.

It didn't give me long. With my cock bobbing up and down obscenely, I rushed around tidying the place up - bachelor life, eh, it's a killer when someone wants to come and visit.

Having just about managed that and with at least some sense of my own vulnerability - which is what I think motivates a slut, for what it's worth - I had a seconds left before he was due to arrive so I threw on a t-shirt and pulled a pair of jeans up over my pantie clad arse.

Right on cue, the buzzer to my flat sounded. I picked up the intercom and heard him say my name.

Detached from my own body, my heart in my mouth, I watched my hand reach up and press the button to unlock the front door. The sense of inevitability was overwhelming.

I opened the door to see a short, rounded chap of about 50 years, with very little hair. This might have put others off, but my interest in men has never been moved by looks (unless they are obviously scummy) - only their cocks.

I let him into my flat, and he followed me into the living room. I sat down on the edge of a foot stool, and he took a chair from under the table about 7 or 8 feet away.

This guy was good. He must have known that this was the first time I had done anything like this, and acted to get me at ease.

We talked for about 10 minutes about mindless crap - weather, traffic, sport - until it came to an awkward moment where neither of us had anymore mindless crap to raise.

Fuck it, I thought, I'll take the initiative.

"So, how do we go about this?"

"Well," he said, looking at me with the eyes of a person who wants something and wants it now, "why don't you dim the lights a little and we'll get undressed?"

Without any further prompting, I walked to the dimmer and turned it down. When I turned back to face him, he had removed his shirt and was unbuttoning his jeans. I swiftly followed suit.

When I got to my jeans, I looked into his eyes and slowly undid the fly of my own jeans, deliberately revealing my pink panties. I saw his eyes grow wider at the sight, and being strangely at ease with what I was doing (perhaps motivated by my desire to be the slut I had always wanted to be) I turned around and teased my trousers over my arse, making sure to push it out and up so he would be aroused by the sight of its cheeks gently framing the narrow strip of material leading from the triangular part of the thong as it disappeared between my legs.

"Nice panties," he commented, remembering the word I was so fond of using on the 'phone, "very feminine".

Presumably the words must have reached my ears before they did my cock, but I felt them wrapping around it like the hot, wet mouth of every man's fantasy, and I could feel the blood flowing into me, making me instantly hard.

I pulled my panties to one side and released my straining cock. Turning back round, I saw that my knickers and arse must have had a similar effect on him - his shorts were round his ankles, his cock pointing towards the ceiling.

"Sit down," he ordered.

It was a welcome order, my legs having melted beneath me, so I complied by dropping onto the foot stool behind me. I wasn't able to look at his face - all I wanted to see was the long, thick cock he was now gently stroking.

He began to walk toward me, masturbating slowly as he did so, and soon my view was consumed with the length and thickness of his shaft. With every beat of my heart, I swayed imperceptibly, drunk at the prospect of what I was about to enjoy.

Instinctively reaching my hand to him, I took a sharp intake of breath at how heavy and hot he was.

The slut taking over in me, I slowly leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock. The heat on my tongue was astonishing, and the way he gasped spurred me on.

Slowly and deliberately, I began to run my tongue up and down his dick, pausing every now and then at the top. The taste was like nothing I had tasted before - it was incredibly complex but generally describable as ever so slightly salty and with an underlying hint of something...well...human.

I couldn't hold back any longer and, forgetting to pay some attention to his balls as I had seen in porn films, I took him between my lips.

The sensation of having a cock in my mouth, resting heavily on my tongue, made me move my head back and forth as I hungrily tried to get as much contact with it as I could. I heard him sigh with approval and began to suck him for all I was worth.

Having come up for breath, I heard him comment that I really knew how to give a blowjob - I quipped that I had studied a lot of porn and was now putting into practice.

With that, I spat on the head, gripped it with my fist and began to wank him off only inches from my face.

Not being able to stop myself, I began to suck hard and fast, remembering to work my hand over him at the same time.

He must have sensed that my jaw was beginning to ache, as I felt him grip the back of my head and begin to thrust in and out of me, just like we had discussed on the 'phone.

After a few minutes of gagging inexpertly when he fucked himself into my throat, he pulled out and lifted me up by my head. My own cock was now red hot, and he spat in his hand and reached down to stroke me.

As he did so, he pushed me in the direction of the sofa, then sat me down again. He pushed me onto my back.

"Shall we 69?" he asked, not waiting for a response as he straddled my head.

Not needing any further direction, I took his cock back into my mouth - and vaguely remember the sense of relief at having it filled again.

This time, however, I could feel the warmth and wetness of his mouth on my cock. It was all I needed and began to work him for all I was worth - in particular, I took great pleasure in resting my head on the sofa and pulling his arse down low so that I was pinned down by the beautiful dick I was struggling to cope with.

It didn't take long - I felt him move around to get free of me and I let him go, knowing what was coming.

Leaping up myself and falling to my knees on the carpet, I looked up at him, opened my mouth wide, took my own cock in my hand and began to masturbate furiously.

Following suit, he started to wank himself off. Wanting to encourage him, I began to flick my tongue over the head of his penis.

"I'm coming," he murmured as I saw his legs begin to shake. "I'm coming".

"Come for me...I want your hot spunk in my mouth".

I wasn't prepared for what happened next, despite all my thinking about it and planning how it might go.

He placed his cock right in front of my lips and my mouth was suddenly being hit by hot, thick jets of cum. As soon as I felt too full, I closed my mouth and swallowed.

Perhaps I should not have done, as the next jets hit my closed mouth and chin - but I did.

Opening up again I felt strings of cum dangling between my wet lips as he fired his last few streams into my mouth.

Swallowing again, I opened up and licked my lips, savouring the tangy taste of it and the filthy images it made race through my mind.

I was hot, and he knew it. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me onto the sofa. He grabbed at my panties and yanked them to one side. He spat on his hand, and reached between my legs, feeling insistently for my hole. Once he found it, he roughly pushed his finger in and took my cock with his other hand.

Almost immediately, the sensations in my arse and dick became so strong that I could feel nothing else in my body and my hips began to thrust uncontrollably into his hand and away from his finger. The downward thrusts only served to drive his finger deeper into my arse, and in a matter of milliseconds I was shooting spunk high into the air before it splattered down over my body and panties.

My orgasm was the most intense I had experienced in my life, and even though my eyes were open, everything was black.

After I had regained the ability to speak and move, he slowly withdrew his finger and went to wash his hands in the kitchen.

As I lay there, running with spunk, in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties, I realised that I had arrived.