Emma's Stiletto Seduction Pt. 15

This is a continuing story, my journal, please see :

Emma's stiletto seduction 01 to Pt. 14 for prior entries.

Comments welcome.

David closed the front door of the house behind him as he entered.

He immediately noticed how quiet it was. No audible sign of life, and yet the smell of fresh coffee radiated towards him from the kitchen beyond the hallway.

Someone was here.

There was evidence that things were not as he had left them some 8 hours ago.

There were an extra set of keys on the dresser. A black three-quarter length leather jacket had been slung casually over the stair post. He clicked on the light of the standard lamp next to him.

And kneeling silently in-front of him was a woman.

One hour ago I had used the keys David had given me months earlier and let myself in to his comfortable 1930s detached house.

To him, finding me here was unplanned and unexpected. To me it was something that I had been wanted and playing over in my mind for a year.

Since coming out of the closet as Trans over twelve months ago, my friendship with work colleague David had changed in every possible way. We had surprisingly become lovers, yes, and then became something more.

My previous relationships had not been successful. I was happy to date women but they were never able to provide that indescribable feeling that having sex with a man gave me. I liked being with women, but I needed to be with men, which always presented somewhat of a barrier to long term commitments.

In the past, long relationships with men were out of the question for me. I could be sexually satisfied by sexually satisfying them when presenting as the real me, Emma, but they couldn't give me what I wanted in a relationship. It was always quick meetings for sex and sex alone. For the past 15 years of my life, men couldn't wait to leave me immediately after they had reached orgasm. Probably the guilt of cumming combined with the realisation that they were having sex with a transwomen flowed over them after the adrenaline spike had left their arteries.

Don't get me wrong, this type of meeting became exactly what I wanted and expected too. There had been only a small handful of men who I exchanged more than a few words after having sex with them. And usually it was after being cleaned up and over a cup of tea.

An elderly man I used to date gave me the feeling that he rather liked my company, any company, and the sex was a bonus. What he wanted was the tea or coffee companion afterwards.

He had been another man, like my current partner David, whose wife had become disinterested in a sexual relationship. Unlike my former tea drinking companion, David had the fortune of his wife leaving him, which now allowed him much more freedom to explore his desires.

But now things were different. David and I were different. We were now moving from dating to relationship, and had in reality crossed that boundary a few weeks after it started

I can easily sum up why David was my first proper, lasting relationship. He was, and remains, the only man that I have ever fancied. I had fancied women in the past, but it was only ever 'just sex' with men. You could say I used them, even though every encounter had them using me and my body. It was sex. Only sex, until now.

I let myself into Davids house with my key, and placed my overnight bag on the black and while porcelain tiles in the hallway. Even though this area was cold, the rest of the house was full of warmth. And chintz. It was flirting at being decorated in a formal Victorian style, but only a pastiche. It had a charm all of it's own that my modern apartment just didn't have.

I had often daydreamed if David asked me to move in permanently and not just at weekends, what would I say?

I turned on the Sage coffee machine in the kitchen and ran some hot water though it. The central heating had already been timed to come on earlier, making the home warm and inviting as the sky outside slowly turned to dusk.

I caught myself reflected in the glass of the lounge bay windows that the failing light had turned into a perfect mirror.

Staring back at me was a 40 something transwoman. They were small, really, especially competed to young women of today. 5ft4 inches tall with a slim frame and a curved bottom that seemed to attract the hands of everyone who was near. Their breasts were small, but growing larger everyday. A combination of age, the wrong food, and oestrogen.

They had dressed in what was now their familiar style. Black stockings and suspenders attached to a figure hugging basque, pushing up her breasts into a b cup. They had on a tightly fitting soft black leather pencil skirt with a double-silver zip up, or down, the back. It fell just above her knees.

A white silk blouse completed the look, fine enough just to provide a hint of black underwear beneath. Her reflection failed to reveal that she was not wearing any panties this evening.

Her makeup was done to perfection. Lashings of black makeup. Eyeliner, eye shadow. Thick mascara that extenuated her green eyes - magnified by the lenses in her black framed spectacles.

She wore her jet-black hair in a sleek bob, shoulder length, which hid large silver hooped earrings beneath.

In a change from usual, her boots were not stiletto heeled but flat. Back leather, that reached a few inches above the knee.

I recognised her immediately.

It was the woman I really was and had been all of my life.

It may seem like transwomen just cosplay life as a woman, but, take it from me, it was in their former 'male' life they there were roleplaying. Each and every day.

After drinking a hot latte, I reapplied my lipstick in the chrome of the kitchen oven. I expected David home shortly.

It was easy to get ready for our surprise liaison. Switching off the lights in the kitchen and hallway enveloped the house in a warm dark blanket. The heels of my boots echoed along the tiles as I knelt into position directly in line with the front door.

The few minutes of silence was broken by a car pulling into the asphalt driveway. Its headlights flashing a beam through the obscured door glass, and then once more across the adjacent lounge.

My heart was racing now, even though he was no stranger, I wanted him and I wanted him to have me.

Footsteps now, walking towards the door. A key in the lock, turning.

As the door opened, I revealed my tongue piercing to the world. Arms behind my back, I was vulnerable to anyone that entered.

I noticed the tall man stop in his stride. He knew I was there, but kept up the pretence. He looked at the extra keys on the dresser and nodded to them.

He observed the jacket casually strewn over the stair post. And when he turned on the lamp in the hallway, I was revealed before him.

On my knees, my mouth open wide, tongue out. And looking up at him.

This. This!

This was what he had been missing all these years. Years of a loveless marriage wasted, when he could have been coming home to this. It quickly flashed before him, as he placed his case neatly down beside the dresser.

He knew what I wanted, and from the feeling that he found growing in his trousers, he wanted it to.

David had often told me that he felt powerless to resist when around me. That his cock had created a mind of its own. He felt it growing with every beat of his heart, straining at the trousers of his dark blue suit. He didn't want to take the time to undress, and found his hands unbuckling the black belt he wore.

I watched intently as he pulled down the waistband of his pants beneath his testicles and held his now erect cock proudly in front of me. The foreskin had tightened over the bell end, revealing the eye of the tip. Initially distracted, my eyes darted back to his, and kept his gaze as he entered my mouth.

He was slow at first, not deep. I resisted the temptation to close my red lips around his cockhead. I kept silent, still. Passive.

Gently he wiped his cockhead over my lips, coating them with the first trace of his milky white precum that had started to leak from the tip.

Then he put his cock on my face, just resting the 7" erection. To me, it felt huge, swollen larger that I had ever seen it before somehow. He rubbed it across my face, and softly hit my cheeks.

Bending his erection down now, he placed it back into my mouth. Holding it level with a strong hand around its base and placing a second hand to the back of my head, he fed me its length.

I felt the soft velvet tip against the back of my throat. With a jerk he retracted it a little, and moved it forward once more. Mucus from my throat caused a subtle gagging sound that broke the silence.

Slowly, but firmly, he quickened the pace, a rhythmic thrust each second created an audible morse code as it struggled against my resistance.

I concentrated hard to keep myself steady on my knees, my hands and arms still held behind my back giving him free and unlimited access to my mouth.

Without encouragement he became more forceful, now starting to take advantage of the vulnerable position of me in-front of him.

I felt both hands on my head now, each grabbing a clutch of my hair. David's cock now desperately trying to feed me it's full length, if it could get through my throat.

Although it was the wrong angle and position to deep throat his cock, I felt that he was enjoying himself trying. My eyes started to produce tears through my thick mascara, which together fell down my cheeks leaving a thin dark trace.

It wasn't hurting, and I knew he wouldn't hurt me. It was the illusion that control of my body had been given to him, that turned us both on so much.

The pace now made me steady myself, I quickly moved my hands to my thighs, and then around the back of his knees. He kept thrusting into me, now a fast hard rhythm that jerked my head back each time. It was countered by him pulling my head down onto his cock with my hair.

Again, to an external observer it would feel like he was violating me. But even though he grabbed my hair, in reality it was me who retained the control. I was exaggerating the movement, amplifying the sounds.

In the adverts I used to place on sites looking for partners, I would characterise myself as a submissive t-girl who likes to be in control. This was an example.

Like most men, he wanted to see what he was doing, the chaos he was causing. Pulling his cock from my mouth, as mucus flowed out of my mouth and down onto the black leather of my skirt, he watched it in slow motion.

He released himself from the clutches of my lips and made me raise my gaze to look up at him.

Looking back at me was a kind and gentle man, that had just returned home from a hard week at work to find me here waiting for him. He was still wearing his suit jacket, shirt and tie that he had worn to the office. He hadn't washed or cleaned himself, a thought that he tried not to think about.

"Can I?" I said.

He nodded.

I felt that this had given me permission to stop being passive, to now be a part in the sex act that had up to now been performed on me.

My lips quickly found his glans, and I used them to push his foreskin back so that it was constrained by his bell. The full head was revealed, it was hard now and flushed purple with his blood. It was covered in a mixture of pre-cum and my saliva.

I held his erect penis in my hands, my long black glossy fingernails each pinning the sides of his shaft. I set my mouth to work, snogging his cockhead whilst frantically flicking my tongue and working the tip of my tongue into the eye of his penis.

I wanted to bring him to orgasm. I wanted him to want me like I did him.

I was the one forcing my head down fully onto his length, grabbing his arse to get more leverage. He grabbed at my hair again, and we found our own comfortable rhythm with my head smoothly bobbing up and down on him.

In moments, unannounced, he came in my mouth. I kept sucking as his cum escaped through my swollen lips and down the front of my blouse. It pooled on my skirt.

It had been at least 7 days since I had last brought my man to orgasm, and I felt like this load had rewarded my patience.

One thing I learned at a young age as a cock sucker, is to clean up the cock afterwards when it has cum. All a man wants to do at that point is put it back in his pants and make a fast escape. But it is uncomfortable for them if they are still covered in jizz and saliva from a blowjob. It gets everywhere.

So I feel that it is part of the unwritten rules of giving a blowjob, that if you make it cum then the onus is on you to clean it afterwards. This can be providing your clothing for the man to wipe himself on you, but it's usually best to lick and suck the cock clean. You have a mouthful of cum anyway, so the residual sperm still on the cock is not a problem.

Also, it is highly unlikely that I achieved orgasm at that point, and so I was still very much in the throws of the excitement and thrill of having sex. I am still turned on when the man has cum. And so doing something very sexual and taboo like tongue cleaning cum from a cock is extremely thrilling for me. Davids cock is also now extremely sensitive and the lightest touch or flick from my tongue can still provide intense feelings.

From where I was kneeling, there were only positives. I held his cock in my hands and greedily licked it clean.

I rocked backwards onto the heels of my boots, and he helped me up. He was still tall, especially so in his dress shoes. With me only wearing flat boots, he towered a full 12 inches above me at 6'4".

"I think I'm covered," I said, gigglling.

"Well I Wasn't expecting that." David said, still catching his breath.

"Look what you have done to me." I said, pointing out the mixture of cum and mucus glistening off the front of my skirt.

"Let me help clean you up Em," He said, thinking that the encounter was over.

"You can, but you have to be naked first." I instructed him. "Take of all of your clothes."

"Here?" He asked quizzically, not used to being told what to do.

"Yes here." I demanded, in my submissive but controlling way.

David loosened his tie and took it from his neck placing it on the dresser. Next his suit blazer, revealing a white shirt that was now damp with sweat.

"Take everything off." I repeated, nonchalantly.

He stepped out of his shoes, and let his trousers and pants fall to the floor. I gave him a hand out of his shirt, which peeled from the small of his back. He was warm to the touch, and I liked touching him.

"Follow me." I said, taking his hand and leading him up the stars to the main bathroom.

I pulled the cord next to the shaving mirror, which filled the once dark bathroom with a warm orange glow.

"Turn the shower on please." I asked.

David did so, reaching in to the controls of the large, two person shower. In moments hot water cascaded from the central shower rainfall head.

"You have got me messy, now you have to get me wet!" I exclaimed.

David smiled, "Who is getting in first?"

"You are, I'm not ready!"

He threw two fresh towels on the floor next to the door, and walked in to the shower glass cubicle grabbing my arm tightly as he did so.

It wasn't a contest, there was never any physical way that I could have prevented being taken into the shower fully clothed.... although we both knew this was what I wanted, and I felt glad that David knew this too. It was part of me.

He dragged me under the shower head with him and I immediately felt the warm water start to flood over me. He pulled me close and we started to kiss.

The water flowed between us, my white blouse suddenly felt heavy and clung to the curves of my breasts. the blouse became transparent, my black basque revealing itself through the flimsy material.

In seconds we were soaked through, David's cum washed away from my leather skirt returning it to its pristine shining black in the half light, and me to the innocent girl I wanted to be for him.

I couldn't help but be in my element. Our kisses were gentle, soft. Our tongues choosing not to explore in the moment.

My arms embraced around his neck, clinging to his large frame like a vine. His hands explored my body, caressing my breasts and finding their way to my bottom.

My round bottom encased in wet black leather seemed to be the hit that I'd always hoped it would be with him.

It was nice to take care of him, soaping his powerful body and rinsing it clean. Every inch of him allowed to be explored by my hands.

I wasn't naked, I was fully dressed, and yet still he cleaned me. Meticulously he soaped my blouse into a lather and rinsed it off in the hot water.

With care, he did the same to my leather skirt. Running his hands first over my bottom and then turning me to face away from him. His hands were able to reach down over my shoulders and trace the outline my growing clit was now making against the soft wet material.

This was only the second time in our relationship that I had wanted this sort of attention, and that David felt confident enough to acknowledge my clit.

He knelt down and ran his hands up and down my boots, rubbing liquid soap into them.

And gently he lifted up the zip of my skirt, from the bottom of its hem to the waistband. First exposing my stocking tops.... and edging it higher, revealing my suspenders that now framed my bare buttocks in front of him.

He parted my cheeks and found my hole staring back at him. No parts of me, mind and body, were off limits to him now.

I felt two fingers find their way inside me, and gasped a breath as they explored my bottom until they were deep.

I'd just had him. He had just cum in my mouth. But this was different. I wanted him to have ME, and it seemed like he wanted me.

I reacted to his fingers penetrating my hole. They felt rough and uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I wanted him to have me in the way that he wanted. He had done so much for me, allowing me to explore sex with others that I knew he was uncomfortable with.

For now anyway, I felt like it should just be us. The two of us against the world.

His left hand reached around me, and once more traced the outline of my erect clit through the wet leather. He rubbed it, gently at first and then harder. With a movement he then took it in his hand, forcing me to steady myself against the glass.

For the first time in our relationship he was penetrating me with his fingers and wanking my clit. This was definitely another level of experience, a closeness between us.

He removed his fingers from me. I knew what I wanted to happen, and thankfully I felt his thumbs parting me once more.

The head of his cockhead felt like it belonged in my hole. He rested it there, at first, and then using the water of the shower as lubricant, penetrated with his penis.

I wanted him, all the way, for us to become one. He was absolutely going to have me and I felt relieved that he did.

As he entered me, his hands found my breasts, at first, and then back to my clit. It remained unspoken, but he wanked my clit hard through the material of my skirt as he penetrated me.

There was nothing I could do but react. I pushed my bottom backwards at the right time, in sync, forcing him so deep that I could feel his testicles rest on me.

We were clearly both turned on, more so than I can ever remember. What should I do, announce that I'm going to cum?

And held in the moment, I did.

"You are making me cum." I said, softly, not wanting to discourage him.

As he was fucking me, I came. It was unlike any previous orgasm I'd had. I could feel myself building up to the point of no return. And then I passed that point but I hadn't yet orgasmed. It was a feeling of pure calm, almost relaxed. For there was nothing further I could do.

David was still fucking my hole.