Naughty Pictures

The gallery was as quiet as you would expect on a Wednesday morning, a few lonely souls wandering around enjoying the peace and visual treats that hung on the white walls. The exhibition of WWI war artists mainly Nash, Bomberg, Dix and Lewis drawing its particular audience, contemplative, those that were given to calm observation.

The smell of coffee and baked goods as I drew closer toward the café made my belly rumble, never being one with any will power I easily gave into its lure. My mind was full of the darkness and the futility of mankind. I needed to give my brain a break, take a moment to wash it clear of the imagery and imaginings I'd subjected it to in the last hour or so, coffee and pastry would help reset the balance.

Sat at a table in the bright, fully glazed conservatory café. I looked outside at the wintry landscaped gardens, snow still lying in parts, the trees bereft of their leaves, I felt melancholic.

I shifted my gaze from the gardens, glancing around the nearly empty room, a few older ladies chatting in the corner, a younger lady reading the gallery brochure whilst the staff busied themselves behind the counter. I watched as an older gentleman entered and was drawn to his straight-backed posture, there was a man that had served in the military I thought, the exhibition must be right up his street.

Handsome in a particularly veteran military type way, which i never knew appealed to me until then. He was tall, well groomed with perfectly combed grey hair. He wore a light tweed sports jacket with leather elbow patches and shoulder piece, a sharp crease down the centre of his slacks, a pale pink shirt with an impeccable knot in the matching darker pink tie.

I instantly felt a tingle in my stomach and my mood immediately lifted when he made eye contact with me and smiled.

He sat at the table across from me and his eyes again met mine. I tried to look away, look out through the windows but whenever my gaze returned from the garden, our eyes met and we looked right at each other. I felt he could see right into me. My heart was racing, what was going on?

The waiter removed my cup and plate, I now had no defences to hide behind. I couldn't just sit there staring into the face of this gentleman, I know I am weird but even for me that would be too much. I reluctantly gathered my stuff, my bag and jacket and reluctantly moved from the table. I felt his gaze on me as I made my departure back into the gallery, instinctively I smiled at him as I walked past his table, he smiled back at me and I felt my legs wobble which it ruined my attempt to be cool.

I had hoped that he would follow me, deliberately walking slowly back into the main body of the building, my hopes dashed as I realised he wasn't. I cursed myself for being an idiot, not everyone is as desperate as you I thought, berating myself for getting excited about a man who was just being friendly.

I tried to get back into the mood that had filled me before having coffee. Walking through the polished wooden floored halls, I tried to get back to looking and admiring the art, to reimagining the horrors that inspired the artists, but it was futile.

I accepted that my selfish desires had gotten the better of me and ruined what had been a wonderful experience. I wanted to leave, go home and wallow in my self-pity like the pathetic fool I felt. I looked for, foubd then headed for the exit.

The gallery was a former Victorian school, a large, ornate sandstone building set in its own grounds. I walked down the long, straight driveway toward the main road where I would catch my bus home.

Nearing the large wrought iron gates at the entranceway, I heard a car behind me, as the engine noise got louder I heard it drop a gear and it slowly drew alongside me. The whirr of the window as it dropped next to me, alerted me and allowed me to look inside, there he was, my handsome soldier.

"Can I offer you a lift?"

Though more than comfortable in the plush leather seat of the car, I was as nervous as a kitten sitting beside this stranger. He asked me where he could take me, I obviously blushed furiously as thoughts raced through my mind and I couldn't gather them quickly enough to give him an answer, instead he spoke for me.

"Perhaps you'd like to come to my place?"

The look I gave him confirmed that this was more than acceptable.

"My place it is then, I'm Michael by the way, what's your name?"

"eh..uh...I'm David, but I like Deb"

"Okay, Deb it is."

We drove in silence for about 10 minutes. Although nothing much had been said, we both knew why we were going to his place so it felt natural when his strong fingers moved from the gearstick and onto my knee. I gave a gentle gasp and he looked over at me as if for confirmation, I smiled my approval, this was exactly what I was hoping he would do.

Eventually, his fingers opened and his palm moved up my leg, slowly it slid over my thin cotton trousers until he reached my thigh. When he felt the taut strap of my suspender strap, his hand stopped, I felt the car slow momentarily as his foot eased off the accelerator in surprise. Then a broad smile broke across his face and he asked me, "Why do like to be called Deb?"

After another 25 minutes, Michael steered the car between two wooden gateposts and into a driveway. An old chocolate box cottage set in a mature garden appeared through the windscreen. "It was my late parents home, they've gone now and as the only child, it now belongs to me".

He opened the front door and invited me inside the bright day lit hallway. Oak panelled with framed countryside inspired watercolours on the walls, a stand with various hats balanced on its hooks sat on a time worn Turkish rug and an aroma of flowers and polish filled the room.

Michael closed the door behind us and gently took my arm. He led me into the lounge, a minimalist room completely different from the style I had expected. He walked toward a modernist chrome and glass drinks table and asked if I cared to join him? He poured himself a whisky and I asked for the same. As he handed me the cut glass tumbler, my resistence crumbled, I leaned into him and placed my lips upon his.

To be clear, at this point. I had never been with another man before, although my secret had been discovered in the car moments before, until then it had been exactly that, my secret. From a young age I had explored my mothers room, thrilled and excited myself with her feminine garments. As I grew older I allowed myself to imagine a host of scenarios but they had all been lived in my head. I was now a young man, turning twenty the following mont, my sexual experiences had been limited to unsatisfying fumbles with girls that, although pretty and perfectly nice, had done nothing for me. What I was living at this moment was beyond my wildest dreams.

Michael responded to my kiss. I felt his hands taking my head between them, reassuringly firm and masculine.

"When I first saw you back there in the café, this is what I wanted...Deborah!"

My knees buckled as he said my real name, I thought I must be dreaming. I moulded myself into him, putting my head against his broad chest and gave a purr of contentment. He put his strong arms around me and pulled me tighter into him. I could feel his arousal, hot and stiff against my stomach and I knew that he could feel mine too.

Taking my hand he led me from the lounge. We crossed the hallway and into his bedroom. I couldn't believe this was finally happening. The bedroom was large with a huge wooden bed with a solid headboard, a large double wardrobe, a mirrored dresser and on the far wall, a set of doubke doors with 15 glass panels doors that led into the garden.

Michael turned to me and we kissed again, passion overtaking us as we exchanged tongues and delighted moans of pleasure. I felt his hands move to my shoulders and with a little pressure he gently pushed them down. I looked into his eyes and allowed myself to be eased onto my knees.

Kneeling, I made quick work of his belt buckle and button. My head felt light as I unzipped his flies and his trousers easily fell from his waist. There before me, behind the crisp, white cotton of his briefs, lay my desire, straining at the fabric which contained it.

I let my fingers find the waistband, slowly I eased his briefs over his throbbing cock. I gasped as it sprang from its constraint.

It, to me anyway, seemed beautiful. A neatly trimmed nest of greying hair, standing 7 or 8 inches long, thicker than mine but not excessive, his gorgeous purple dome shining with a pre-cum gloss extending beyond his foreskin and screaming for attention. I leaned in to take this magnificence into my eager mouth like I knew good girls did, as I did so I was overcome with his aroma, the scent of manliness, of his masculinity and his power over me. I felt the wave of utter submission at that moment. I had made this mans cock hard and it blew my mind. Lowering my head, any previous pretence I had that I was a real boy disappeared, I was now the sissy boy I always knew I really was. Tasting his meat, the velvety soft and ferocious heat of his swollen dome, his delightfully deliciously saline pre-cum on my tongue, I felt alive!

With tongue and lips, on my knees before a gentleman forty years my senior, I sucked and licked his gorgeous penis. I felt his fingers twirl in my hair as he gyrated his hips and pushed his cock further and further into my greedy mouth until I gagged.

Without warning, he withdrew his splendid member from my mouth. Stepping back from me altogether. With disappointment in my eyes I watched him, he removed his tie, then his shirt, kicking of his trousers and briefs he sat on the edge of his bed to remove his socks. Still on my knees I watched this beautiful man undress before me, then lay back, pulling pillows up to support himself, he smiled at me.

"Okay pretty lady, your turn."

Getting to my feet, my eyes wide, every nerve ending in my body tingling, I started to undress.

I wanted to please him. I wanted to make his amazing cock hard for me. I removed my clothes, not meeting his eyes as I did so though I knew his were washing over me. Straightening up, I stood before a man dressed in my mothers lingerie for the very first time.

The matching sheer white silk camisole and panties that were trimmed with delicate lace, such elegant fabric, almost transparent. It couldn't contain either my diamond hard nipples as they pushed out from my smooth chest nor could they hide my smoothly shaven clit as it begged for release.

The thin garter belt, with its little rosebuds over the clasps, the tight straps which had first sparked his desire in the car, firmly holding up the dark tan tops of my nylon stockings. They made my smooth legs seem so long and as the nylon crackled as my legs brushed against each other, they sent bolts of static electricity through me.

"You are so beautiful Deborah. I must have been led a good life to be rewarded like this"

I moved toward him on the bed and he opened his arms. Climbing into them, feeling his warm skin against me, I felt safe and more aroused than I think I have ever been in my life.

We kissed again, our hands roaming over each other. My fingers found his stiff, swollen penis and with a practised hand, I slowly eased back his foreskin, up and down, allowing my thumb to brush over his leaking pee hole now and again which brought moan from his lips. Then it happened, my final surrender.

"Michael, I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me!"

With my legs wide open and a pillow beneath me, my pussy lubed and yearning. Michael positioned himself between my stockinged thighs. Guiding his slippery cock toward my button he made me gasp with the shock of entrance. Gently, without force or demand, I accepted him and he slid into me.

I almost exploded with the overwhelming release of emotion, slowly at first then building a rhythm, Michael fed me his full length and I almost cried my girly tears.

I wrapped my legs around the back of his, I pushed my hips back into him in time with his thrusts. I couldn't get my head around this experience of finally achieving my girly goal, this beautiful man between my legs, fucking me like the girl I always wanted to be, his hit cock stimulating my virgin pussy, it was so intense! It was so wonderful!

As he fucked me, Michael told me I was amazing, he told me I was fantastic, he told me I was his girl, I was his slut, I was his dirty bitch.

Then he came. His whole body stiffened and I thought his cock was about to rip my pussy hole wide open, he gasped loudly and spasmed, flooding my insides with his hot jizz, spurt after spurt of his sperm jetted into me. I watched his face contort with delight and it blew me over the edge.

My own orgasm ripped through me and I covered my mothers lingerie with puddles of my own sticky mess, from my chest down to my belly was a stream of cum and I howled with every twitch of girly delight that washed through me.

We collapsed into each others arms, I grabbed his face and kissed him wildly "Thank You Michael, Thank you thank you" I panted between kisses.

Eventually his spent cock flopped out of my pussy with a quiet plop and he gave a final shudder.

"Thank you Deborah, you're the best fuck of my life."

We climbed up into the pillows, he took me into his strong arms and kissed my head, we spooned until be both drifted off into a sated sleep.

Michael and I fell in love that day.