Just Like a Real Girl Pt. 02

After ending my online chat with Clint, I immediately regretted inviting him over. I logged back on a few minutes later to call the whole thing off, but he was showing as offline and any messages I sent would sit there unread. I could always turn off all my lights and simply refuse to answer the door, but a man standing outside my door knocking at 12:30 in the morning would attract far more attention from my neighbors than if he was able to simply slip into my apartment. Plus, I prided myself on following through on dates I made (and still do), and it would have been rude to leave him standing outside my door after inviting him over.

Equally inconceivable was the option of denying myself to him after he arrived; even most men who turn out to be obnoxious jerks usually end up getting a blowjob before they leave, often so that they WILL leave. So, at the very least, I was going to have to suck his cock, which didn't seem so terrible after seeing that massive bulge in his jeans.

Perhaps I was kidding myself, but I felt confident that I could easily restrict our play to just that; a blowjob, nothing more.

With the eleven o'clock hour rapidly approaching, I began the intensive prep which preceded every date. I got into the shower and shaved from my face down to my feet, peeking out of the shower at my phone, I saw that forty-five minutes had passed, leaving me just forty-five more to prepare.

I scrubbed myself down with scented soap, dried off, and went to my bedroom to look for an outfit to wear. Opening my closet, I was presented with a wall of satin, the result of years of shopping. The goal was to be attractive enough to get him hard, but reserved enough to preclude the possibility of anal sex. I decided upon a three quarter length red satin nightgown with matching stockings and panties... bikini briefs rather than a thong, for maximum coverage.

Next was makeup. Keeping with my outfit choice, I painted my eyelids and lips fire-engine red before drawing thick dark circles around my eyes; I'm not sure what they call it or why its so fucking hot, but the thicker the eyeliner, the more sexual the girl wearing it. Every time I did this, it invariably gave my date an instant hard-on, which is really half the battle as far as I'm concerned.

If you can get a man hard before you even touching him, then making him cum will be as simple as tying your shoe.

For me it's as simple as getting on my knees and looking up at him while I gently touch him (over the clothes so far) and begin undoing his belt or button, sliding down his zipper while I look up at him excitedly over what he's got for me, ending with me reaching inside and grabbing hold of his cock over his underwear (provided he's wearing any). That's Step #1,and if executed correctly, he's already about fifty percent down the road to exploding in your face. Maybe sixty percent.

Step #2, take it off and start jerking him off. Pretend you're impressed by the size but don't oversell it if he's less than average (guys with tiny cocks are well aware that theirs is tiny, but there's no benefit to pointing it out to them). Now he's seventy percent of the way there... at least.

Step #3, while you continue to jerk him off while you look up at him like a slave, start french-kissing the head of his cock and wait for him to melt, which he will.

Step #4, rinse and repeat, jerk and suck, cup his balls with your free hand when you think he's getting close and let out a little moan... and get ready to have your mouth filled in ten seconds or less.

Now, if I'm really enjoying the man I'm doing all that to, I simply prolong Step #3 for as long as I want, but I can basically take most men from flaccid to orgasm in under ten minutes, occasionally in as little as four minutes. It's a skill, and one that can make you plenty of friends over time, and people who come back for it again, and again, and again. If I ended up enjoying Clint's company, he might get some deluxe head from me to make up for the fact that I had changed my mind about fucking, and if he happened to be a dick about the whole thing and insisted on some relief, he'd get the four minute version.

Finally, I went to my bedroom and opened my closet to the four severed Styrofoam heads which were sporting my wigs. One purple, one blonde (Krissy's preference) and two red; one bob cut, and one shoulder length. My instincts were telling me that NOT looking exactly like the gurl in the pictures I'd sent him might be yet another signal to him that tonight's menu was... restricted.

I pulled on the long red one and returned to the bathroom mirror where I spent the next twenty minutes twirling and primping until it looked sexy and natural.

It was 12:25 am when I walked to my front door, unlocked it, and sat on the sofa to wait. I was a bundle of nerves and had to fight the urge to lock the door and call the whole thing off, but before I could work up the nerve to act, I heard the door to my building open and close followed by the sounds of footsteps clomping down the stairs towards my door.

I sat like a deer or small animal on the highway, frozen in the path of which might be my undoing as he entered my apartment without knocking, quietly closed the door and bolted it shut.

Tall and broad shouldered, he seemed to fill the doorway as he regarded me with an expression of mild disappointment as he gazed at me through his piercing blue eyes. "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in bed."

I opened my mouth to inform him of my revised intentions and the reasons I couldn't (or wouldn't) follow through with what we'd discussed, but he shushed me with a finger against his lips and then mine as he stood over me, looking down at me looking up at him from the sofa as he inched closer, forcing me to separate my legs with his knees as he inched closer.

"Listen," I said gently, "I have to tell you something..."

"Not just now," he whispered back, a crooked smile forming on his lips. "Earlier tonight you shared some of the most intimate details of your life, you told me some of your deepest and darkest secrets. You told me about how you used to wear your step-sister's panties for your late night walks, and how you secretly wanted to be caught, and how if you were caught you'd do just about anything they wanted... am I right?"

"Yes, but..."

He shook his head, "No, there's no but, you may not realize it, but what you were actually looking for was not to be caught but to be recognized." He stepped closer and began undoing the buckle of his belt. "You wanted someone to see you for what you are, and accept you, and desire you..."

His whispered words crashed down on me like torrential rain, and I sank back on my sofa under their weight as I realized he'd just told me something about myself that I'd never been able to fully grasp until that moment. I cursed myself (to myself) for not having seen it before, but I would have to reflect on this revelation later.

"... well, I see you, Krissy," Clint said as he placed one foot on my sofa and moved his hips closer to my face, "and I desire you. It's just you and me, nobody is going to catch you, or reject you." He lowered his zipper and pulled out his cock, "Let her out, be who you really are."

He reached into his underwear and produced his cock, it was at least eight inches in length, and so thick that it barely fit in his fist. It was heavy with veins and curved upwards slightly, and it's single eye was staring right at me.

I opened my mouth to compliment him on it, but he saw that for what it was (a stall tactic) and took the opportunity to slip it into my mouth before I could get a word out. His cock was hot and I could taste his pre-cum on my tongue, and I could feel the edges of my mouth being stretched in a way I've experienced very few times before. "Yesssss," he whispered, "that's a good girl."

I reached up and grabbed hold of his shaft, his hand gently brushing past mine as he relinquished his grip, and I squeezed it in my fist, feeling as though I was holding something not quite organic, like the handle of a baseball bat wrapped in skin. I closed my eyes and began jerking him off while I twirled my tongue around the tip of it. I felt him adjust his position, moving even closer until my back was pressed into the sofa and he began thrusting his hips gently, his cock sliding in and withdrawing, but never leaving my mouth.

I felt an unusual sensation coming over me, and it took me several minutes to identify it for what it was: euphoria. I felt my own cock growing beneath my red satin panties, and I suddenly felt very warm and relaxed. In fact, I was so relaxed that I found myself taking him deeper than I normally would have attempted with someone his size. I took him to the point where my gag reflex caused me to clench, and I just held him there as I continued to stroke his cock with my hand. My other hand reached up and gently cupped his smooth shaven balls and began to massage them.

"Oh, Krissy..." he moaned softly, "you are absolutely amazing."

Encouraged by his remark, I willed my throat to relax and slowly let him slide into me another inch, and then another, and another until the base of his cock was less than an inch from my lips. I felt Clint's hand slide around the back of my head and I opened my eyes to look at him.

"Look at you," he said proudly, "I've never met a girl who could take me in like that."

I wanted to mention that it was a first for me too, but I was obviously unable to at that moment.

My vision was beginning to blur with tears as my gag reflex began to spasm, and I knew I could hold him no longer. I pulled away just enough to relax my throat (about half way) and began bobbing my head on his cock, stopping just shy of my newly discovered limit. Clint reacted immediately, his grip on my head tightening as he resumed his gentle thrusting and the taste of cum grew stronger.

"I'm getting close, Krissy," he informed me quietly, something I appreciated because it gave me the choice between pulling out or taking his load. But just in case I hadn't heard him, he asked for permission. "I want to cum in your mouth so bad, Krissy... will you let me do that? Will you take it?"

With his cock still in my mouth, I nodded and said what little can be said with a huge cock in your mouth: "Mmm hmm."

Once he had the green light, Clint reached out with his other hand and took hold of both sides of my head, and began to fuck it. I stopped jerking him off and gripped my sofa with both hands as I struggled to accept him, a tear streamed down my cheek and hung off of my chin for a moment until another tear came along and took them both into freefall onto my thigh.

I felt his body beginning to tense up. "Oh fuck, Krissy... oh fuck..."

I braced myself.

I felt a couple of hot spurts land on my tongue, and the smell and taste of hot cum filled my senses, and then Clint pushed his cock all the way in and held it there... beyond my gag reflex, beyond the limit of anything I'd ever taken before, all the way into my throat until his balls touched my lower lip as he let out a long groan, and unloaded directly down my throat and into my belly. I choked for a second and blew a bit of cum out of my nostrils, but that didn't seem to bother him; his head was tilted back towards the ceiling and his jaw was hanging open as his cock continued to throb and drizzle cum.

Once he was done, he slowly pulled back, taking his cock out of me one inch at a time until it was completely out, still hard and dripping with cum and spit. Looking down at me, he caressed my cheek briefly before excusing himself to my bathroom, leaving me sitting there, surprised at myself for going as far as I did. I was surprised again when I noticed that my panties seemed wetter than usual and looked between my legs to see a puddle of cum on my vinyl sofa, cum which had soaked through my panties, and there was a LOT of it. Clearly, I decided, at some point while I was distracted by the huge cock in my throat, I'd had an actual orgasm. Since Clint was still occupying my bathroom, I slid off the sofa and darted into the bedroom to change.

I'd just finished stripping off the soaked satin panties and was bending over to snatch another random pair out of the bag of "girly stuff" in my closet when I felt what I knew to be a hard cock poke into me from behind, and I let out a yelp after which I spun around to see Clint standing there, naked.

"Jesus," I cried, "what are you doing?"

"Getting ready for round two," he said, grinning.

I took a deep breath and said, "Listen, I had a really good time, but..."

Once again, he placed a finger against my lips, silencing me. "Shh. I'd like you to go and freshen up for five minutes... exactly five minutes. And during that time, I'm just going to wait here, and I want you to think about it. After five minutes, exactly five minutes, if you haven't come out of the bathroom, I'll get dressed and leave, and you'll never hear from me again."

"But I..." I began, stopping short as he went on.

"Take the five minutes, freshen up, fix your makeup, and if you're interested in going a little further, I'll be right here."

"I have to ask," I insisted, "what exactly do you intend to do to me if I come back out here?"

Clint cocked his head and smiled, "Whatever you ask me to." Then he placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me towards the open door and gave me a little slap on my bare ass to keep me moving. My face flushed red, panties in hand, I did as he said and went into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind me. My ass was stinging where he'd slapped it, and I could see the red imprint of his hand beginning to form on my ass cheek. That's when I noticed what I had in my hand.

Though I'd just grabbed a pair of clean panties at random, intending to wear them just long enough to see Clint out of my apartment after which I would have taken a bath, I'd inadvertently grabbed a pair that were near and dear to my heart. Black satin bikini, with spaghetti straps; identical to the panties I'd 'borrowed' from my step-sister so many years ago, and the topic of last night's chat with Clint.

I sat down on the side of the tub and placed my forehead in my hands. Looking at myself in the mirror, I whispered these questions to myself:

What was going ON?

What the fuck am I DOING?

How did this HAPPEN?

One minute I was engaging your basic 'fuck talk' with a guy on the internet, and the next I was making this crazy bet with him on whether he'd be 'the best fuck I'd ever had', the consequences for losing said bet resulting in a seedy-hotel-gangbang with some people he knew. But there was a way out. All I had to do was sit there for five minutes, exactly five minutes, after which he'd show himself out (allegedly).

I could do that. I could sit... hell, I WAS sitting.

My lipstick was smeared outwards in all directions and my mascara had run into long triangular daggers on my cheeks, making me look like some sort of demented (and face fucked) clown. Still sitting on the tub, I reached for the wipes on the counter and began sliding the mess off of my face, painting the wipe in multiple colors with every swipe.

Whatever I ask him to... I thought to myself.

I looked down at the black satin panties and remembered what I'd told him earlier, about the excitement I'd felt, how I dripped at the thought of being caught, and then I'd thought about what Clint had said, about how I hadn't actually wanted to be 'caught' per se; I'd wanted to be seen and desired and accepted.

Clint had seen me, he'd desired me, he'd accepted me, and then he'd fucked my mouth so good that I came before HE did. And at that moment, he was in my bedroom waiting. Waiting to see if I'd come out in the next few minutes... waiting to see what I'd ask him to do to me... waiting to see if I had the courage to take that leap with him.

I looked down again at the black panties, identical to the ones that kicked off this crazy mindfuck journey I'd been on for the past twenty years, and thought about how grateful I was for every moment since then. The pleasure, the pain, the disappointment, the humiliation, and even the assaults that all led me to that very moment, standing there, looking at this guy in the mirror dressed in women's clothes and a wig who'd just allowed a man to ejaculate into his mouth, and I asked myself one simple question.

What IF I went for it? And if I did, what would I ask him to do to me, specifically?

The answer was painfully obvious.

I took a moment to consider it before opening the bathroom door and calling out as quietly as I could, "Clint?"

He answered back just as quietly from the bedroom, "Yeah?"

I bit my lip for a second, then I said, "Don't leave," and closed the bathroom door.

I spent the next ten minutes reapplying my makeup from scratch, sparing no effort under the illusion that Clint wouldn't appreciate the work, and gave myself a good wipe down with a hot wet towel before spritzing on some perfume and sliding into the black satin panties. I stood at the closed door for a moment and considered what I was about to experience if I walked out there.

Part of me didn't want it, and part of me knew it could be something that I'd never forget. What I knew for certain was; if I let him leave, I'd wonder about what might have been, probably for the rest of my life. I was tired of regretting my life choices.

I stepped out into the hall, turned out the light, and slinked my way towards the bedroom.

He'd turned out the light, but the streetlights outside cast enough through my closed blinds that I could see him sitting there on my bed, waiting for me. I could just make out the shape of his still-hard cock standing at attention between his open legs.

"Hello, Krissy," he whispered.

"Hello, Clint," I replied.

"I'm glad you asked me to stay."

"So am I... I think."

A silence fell between us and my guts began to twist with anticipation. Sensing my struggle, he tried to make the next few moments easier for me. "It's okay," he assured me. "Just like before, it's just you and me, right here, right now. No judgement. I find you VERY attractive, and not just how you look. I'm turned on by how you think, and I want you to know that whatever you want me to do to you, it's okay. I know your limits... I know you're not looking to get beat up or hurt, and I wouldn't be interested in that even if you were. So tell me... what would you like me to do to you?"

I let out a long breath and took in a new one as I tried to calm myself down. Then I moved to my nightstand and produced a big bottle of lube, which I set down on my nightstand with a thump. Then I took two more items and held them behind my back as I turned to face him.

"Here's what I want," I said cautiously. "You seem to know what I really need, and it seems that maybe you're the perfect person to give it to me. Maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing, or maybe I'm bottoming from the top, I don't even know what to think at this point..."

"You're stalling again," he pointed out.

He was right.

Rather than making another feeble attempt to find the right words, I held out my right fist, keeping my left secreted behind my back. Clint held out his palm and I dropped the contents into it: a small skinny key.

I saw a little grin form on Clint's lips even before I showed him what was in the other hand.

Police issue handcuffs, which I dangled on one finger until he took them, opened them for use, and asked one last question. "Front or back?"

I answered by turning my back to him and presenting my wrists.

Clint carefully cuffed both wrists before securing the locks and tossing the key onto the dresser behind him. I felt his body press into mine from behind, and he whispered in my ear as his hands slid up and down my torso and hips. "Before we begin, I need you to do something for me."