tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersSoma Slave's Journey: Dressed & Fed

Soma Slave's Journey: Dressed & Fed

bySomaSlave©

I had posted an ad looking for a man to "unlock my inner woman," more out of a sense of hope than of expectation. I received the usual assortment of one liners and illiterate responses, but one caught my eye. It was brief, but well written, with proper spelling and punctuation. The last two sentences especially caught my eye: 'Not looking for anything serious but not interested in one time meet either. You sound lovely...'

For some reason, that last sentence resonated with me. It was exactly what a man would say to a woman. I replied with a list of the days and times I was available to meet. He replied that those were good times for him and ended with: 'What size dress do you wear? I think massages for both of us is a good start.' I liked the way this man thought.

We arranged to meet at a fast food restaurant for coffee and conversation. I had told him what I would be wearing and I waited nervously, hoping this was not going to be a no show.

A slightly balding, middle aged man, wearing glasses and shorts, approached me. We shook hands and made introductions. He looked vaguely familiar to me. After buying us drinks, we walked out to his car to talk.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

"You look vaguely familiar," I replied.

"We met at a Starbucks a while ago and played at a hotel."

"Of course, Sir! I still remember that day fondly." It had, indeed, been a memorable meeting. Conversation at Starbucks (tea for me, not their burnt excuse for coffee) had led to an impromptu session at a nearby hotel, where he had masterfully used me and I had coaxed two loads from his cock. I still remembered how well it fit my mouth.

"I emailed you after that, but it bounced back," he said.

"Dang! I had to switch email accounts. I was hoping you would reply. I really enjoyed our time together."

"So did I. I remember the bra and panties you wore. Do you still have them?"

"No, Sir, but I can get another set to wear for you."

He stroked the back of my hand briefly, and I shivered with delight.

"I'm glad we reconnected," he said.

"So am I, Sir," I replied, eager to pick up where we had left off.

"Good. Will Thursday afternoon work for you?"

"I'll check my calendar when I get back to work and let you know. Thank you for the coffee, Sir, and for the opportunity to serve you again."

I returned to the office and immediately blocked out Thursday from 4:00 on. I sent him the information, ending with, 'Looks like I'll be making a shopping trip at lunch tomorrow: bralettes and panties.' After emailing him, I got back to my work, struggling a bit to focus while reminiscing about the fun we had had last time. Toward closing time, I received his reply.

'Oh my! I ordered a dress for you on Amazon last night. Hope it arrives on time. It might not, but we shall see.'

My heart definitely skipped a beat when I read that. As for my cock, the less said about its reaction, the better. I tried to keep my reply low key: 'Thank you, Sir. I'm looking forward to modeling it for you. What color bra/panties should I wear?' His answer was quick in coming: 'Red!!'

Have you ever tried to find a red bralette on short notice? They seem to come in every color but red. It took two days checking nearby stores at lunch and avoiding the gaze of the women doing their shopping in the lingerie sections, but I was finally able to find a reddish bralette and a pair of red lace cheeky panties.

I reported my progress on Wednesday. His response was brief but stimulating: 'Sounds great! You can come on over when you leave at 4. My address is... Looking forward to making you feel like a lady.' So was I.

4:00 finally arrived, and I was ready to leave the office and my male self. I had my bralette and panties in my day pack. In the men's room, I went into the handicap stall and took off my shirt and pants. First, the bralette: I quickly discovered that I may have chosen one size too small, as it was an extremely tight fit on me. Even more quickly, I discovered that one size too small was just right: it squeezed my breasts nicely, and the slight irritation the fabric caused rubbing against my chest hair was a constant reminder of its presence, as well as an incentive to figure out a way to get rid of my chest hair without inciting suspicion. I slipped my hand under the bralette and gave my nipples a quick squeeze, then slipped my shirt back on.

I had just taken off my underpants and removed the panties from the pack when the door opened and a couple of men came in. I froze and sat still on the toilet, naked from the waist down except for my socks. If they glanced under the stall, they would see my white sock clad feet and shoes next to them. I paused, waiting for them to finish. As they washed their hands and left, still talking about an earlier conference call, I relaxed. Being caught crossdressing in an office bathroom may make for a good fantasy, but HR tends to take a dim view of fantasy fulfillment at work.

I slid on the red lace cheeky panties, which were a perfect fit. My balls were trying to force themselves out of the front, resulting in a delightful friction that complemented the overall cool feeling of the lace on my skin. I put on my pants and once again understood why women like to wear nice underwear: the lingerie was a constant stimulus and a walking metaphor for my inner feminine side. My briefs went into my pack and I walked down the stairs, each step stimulating my balls. For once, I wished for more than a five floor walk.

The drive felt much longer than 20 minutes. I pulled into his cul de sac and knocked on the door. He opened it immediately and invited me in. He was barefoot and comfortably dressed in a button down shirt and cargo shorts. He gave me a hug and I could smell his masculinity. The living room had the distinctive smell of vaping. I didn't know if it was him or his roommate who vaped, but the scent appealed to me. I had never cared for smoking, but this was different: it was like a cigar, manly. For some reason, it made me feel more submissive, more female.

He led me into his bedroom, which was highlighted by a double bed ready for action, with sheets but no blanket and a pillow that looked very comfortable. On the dresser was a large bottle of Lubriderm. On the bed was a package and a pair of black high highs. On a box on the floor was a blonde wig. Sitting next to the bed were two pairs of heels, black and gold stiletto pumps and a pair of black strappy low heel pumps.

"The dress came in today," he said, "I hope it fits you. The fishnets and shoes are for you to wear as well. You can wear those and the wig."

I opened the package and took out a red polka dot swing dress. I held it up to my body; it seemed to be a perfect fit, knee length and soft. I turned to him and gave him a hug. He leaned in for a quick kiss on my lips. I was surprised, but turned on by it, another first for me.

I took off my shoes and socks, then removed my shirt and folded it in a nearby chair, giving him a look at my bralette. He ran his hands over it appreciatively and snuck a hand inside it to rub my nipples. I hummed contentedly and unbuttoned my pants. They soon joined my shirt and I was left in my underwear, sitting on the bed and reaching for the thigh highs.

"I've never worn fishnet stockings before. Thank you, Sir," as I rolled them slowly up my legs, trying to be as sexy as possible. Once on, I stood up and smoothed them up my leg. Surprisingly, they covered the light hairs on my legs and highlighted my shapely calves. I made sure they were both at the same level on my thighs.

"I'll leave you to finish getting dressed. Just come out and get me when you're ready." He gave me a tight hug and nuzzled my neck, just at the spot that made me melt. With that, he went into the living room and closed the door behind him.

I pulled the dress over my head and smoothed it down my body. It was a little snug around my tummy (definitely too many carbs), but, otherwise, fit well. The cotton felt cool against my skin and hung well on my body. The dress ended just above my knees and the scoop top exposed my skin without exposing either the bralette or too much chest hair. I looked in the mirror, amazed at what I saw. I've always said I wasn't passable and didn't want to be seen in a dress, but I looked in the mirror and saw a woman looking back, a woman who wanted nothing more than to please her man. My heart fluttered with delight, and I knew this was going to be a special afternoon.

I turned to the shoes on the floor, naturally gravitating to the gold pumps. Sadly, I found my feet protesting as I tried to pull them on. They were too narrow for me, and I didn't have time to stretch them. I turned to the black strappy pumps. The heels were lower, about three inches, and the open areas around the straps allowed me to put them on without difficulty. I pulled the heel straps over my ankle and stood gingerly, allowing myself a moment to get my balance. I took a few steps, revelling in the lift they gave my legs and the way the straps put my feet in bondage. I was becoming more turned on by the minute, as my growing clitty attested, becoming more of a woman: Sir's woman.

Next came the wig. Trying to get it on and fit properly was a comedy of errors. I couldn't find a position that it didn't hang down over my eyes. Eventually, I turned it to a point where I saw the hair falling over my shoulders in a somewhat natural manner. I used a metal hairband to pull it out of my eyes. After taking off my glasses, I saw looking back at me the woman I had wanted to be. I wondered if it was time to give makeup a try.

I opened the door and stepped out, enjoying the clicking of my heels on the wooden floor. My man looked enthralled. I turned as sexily as I could, showing him how well the dress, my dress, the dress my man had chosen, fit me.

"Help me with the zipper?" I asked in what I hoped was a sexy voice. After helping me zip up the back of my dress and giving me another of those electric kisses on my neck, made doubly sensitive by the dress, he turned me around by my shoulders, pull me to him and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, to which I responded (another first for me, as I don't generally like kissing men).

I could feel his cock growing hard, and I knelt in front of him, adjusting the dress so I wasn't kneeling on it, and unzipped his cargo shorts, lowering them slowly and revealing his grey briefs. I slipped my hands into the band on either side of his waist and slid the briefs over his growing cock, joining his shorts on the floor. He stepped out of them and I planted a kiss on his cock before taking it into my mouth.

The head slid in easily, and I stopped there to enjoy the feeling of his cock in my mouth. I flattened my tongue and slid it down his shaft, enveloping his cock in my mouth. It grew into a perfect, snug fit, with no gagging on my part. I let my saliva build up and spent the time sliding my tongue around his shaft and flicking into his cock slit. He moaned appreciatively and I started sliding up and down his cock, my lips tight around it and my mouth forming a seal.

At some point during my oral lovemaking, he had removed his shirt and was standing before me naked, though I didn't notice: my eyes were closed and my mouth was savoring his wonderful cock. Suddenly, his cock was gone and he pulled me up gently as he moved to the bed and lay down on his back, his legs spread for me.

I knelt on the floor between his legs and kissed my way up his feet and legs, pausing to run my hands over his manly legs, the hair invoking a surprising arousal in me. He ran his hands through my wig as I approached his thighs and I caught his musk, which raised my lust to a new level. I wanted his cock in my mouth, but I also wanted to explore the rest of him.

I kissed my way up to his middle age spread, which was a solid bulge, not flabby. I licked his flat navel and moved my hands up his torso toward his nipples, taking time to enjoy the feel of his chest hair. I didn't care much for my own soft body hair. His was more wiry, darker and thicker, just the style I hated...except on him. In my hands, and on my lips, his hairy chest was just right for his lady to explore with wonder. It was so much more masculine than my own halfway efforts at being a man. His small, erect nipples showed through and I had to lick them, ignoring the hair on my tongue, wanting nothing more than to please this man who had aroused me so much.

"Mmmmmm...that feels so good."

"Thank you, Sir. You taste wonderful."

Mindful of the dress, and not wanting it to be stained by the cock that was now pressing against me, I moved down, slowly, and licked the delicious precum off the tip of his cock, following that with a long lick up his shaft, and, sucking his cock head into my mouth, running my tongue around it. My hands were on his thighs. I was determined they would not go near his cock while I showed him what my mouth could do.

And it was doing a lot. The tightening of my panties as my clitty expanded, the feel of the fishnets on my legs, the comforting pressure of the pumps on my feet, the strands of hair from the wig falling into my eyes, above all the cool, cottony feel of the dress on my skin: the woman within was finally emerging and finding her place: pleasuring her man. I raised my calves and swung my legs casually, humming contentedly as I slid my mouth down and filled it with my Sir's cock.

It was a perfect fit. My nose was being tickled by his pubic hair and my chin was resting on his balls. I could feel the tip of his cock in my throat, but it wasn't triggering my gag reflex. I closed my eyes and savored it, flattening my tongue against the shaft, sucking my cheeks in tight and letting my saliva build up and coat it. His cock was nestled tightly in my mouth, home where it belonged, and I was ready to welcome it.

Sucking in as tightly as I could, I pulled my mouth up slowly, until his cock was halfway out. My tongue sprang into action, licking around his perfect shaft, listening to his gasps of pleasure. I moved my mouth up a bit more, leaving only his wonderful cock head in my mouth, my tongue flicking in and out of his cock hole, coaxing out the precum.

And that was the last straw: the taste of the precum on my tongue turned me from a demure lady making love to her man to a lust crazed slut with one goal in mind: filling her mouth with cum. My world narrowed down to my mouth and to the cock filling it. I attacked it with a fury, sucking it, tonguing it, driving my mouth up and down in a fury of desire. He may have been moaning; he may have been crying out; I didn't notice. All the sensations around and in me were focused on his cock, my mouth and my need to make him give me his cum.

At some point, he took control, grabbing my head and driving my mouth up and down his cock with increasing gusto and force. I was delirious with pleasure and quickly moving to that special head space, when he pressed hard, ground my face into his crotch and held it there. I felt his cock throbbing and his cum shooting down my throat. Time froze as he marked me as his woman.

When his hands loosened their grip, I lay my head on his thigh, his deflating cock still in my mouth, and nursed it gently, running my tongue around it, seeking to capture those last few precious drops of nectar. Most of all, I was basking in the afterglow of what had happened. My man had fed me and I was content. I stroked his thighs and balls idly, happy to lay here, knowing I had pleased my man.

Eventually, he lifted my head gently off his thigh and I moved up until my head was on his shoulder, my clothed body snuggled tightly to his naked splendor. I sighed contentedly.

"Thank you, Sir. That was wonderful. Your cock is perfect for me."

"You were incredible." He kissed me and we lay there enjoying each other's presence, no need for words. My hand grazed idly over his body, ruffling his chest hair, as I processed what had just happened. I had not orgasmed; indeed, I hadn't even noticed my nether regions. And yet, I was glowing and filled with pleasure of a sort I couldn't understand. All was right with the world...

...and then, he sat up on the bed. He lifted my ankles, one at a time, and slipped off my shoes, rubbing my feet as he did so.

"Turn around," he said, and I complied, swinging my body around until my feet were on the pillow and my head was laying on the end of the bed.

"Slide down a bit. I want your head off the bed." I did so, knowing what was coming next.

"I'm going to fuck your face," and, with that, he stood by my head and fed his semi-erect cock into my wide open mouth. I went to work, sucking and licking it until it was fully erect. When he was ready, I sucked in my cheeks to try to create a tight hole for him to plunder...and plunder he did.

I thought I had taken him as far down my mouth as I could, but I learned very quickly that he was just getting started. The first deep thrust almost reached my gag reflex. His cock felt even thicker and longer and was taking possession of my mouth with every stroke. I sucked in my cheeks to tighten my mouth's hold on him, while flattening my tongue to give him full access to my mouth pussy. I kept one hand on my hair, holding onto the wig for dear life.

I knew now why it was called face fucking: there was no interplay, no give and take, just him taking my mouth and using it like another pussy. There was no tenderness; he was well and truly having his way with my mouth and throat. As his thrusts grew more urgent, my gag reflex started to kick in. Hearing that, he pulled out briefly. I opened my eyes and saw a thick string of viscous fluid stretching off his cock toward my lips. His attack had summoned up something more than saliva: it looked like a woman's juices when she's in the midst of being pleasured. How appropriate, I thought, before he plunged back into my mouth and I closed my eyes once again.

He leaned over now, driving into me with greater urgency. I was a passive vessel for his lust, unable to do anything but keep a tight seal and provide him another release for his passion. The realization made me do my best to encourage him.

"Um-hmmm," was the best I could muster, repeated mindlessly as his thrusts became more urgent and I heard him gasping with the effort. Finally, the moment we both wanted: he drove deep and froze, and I felt his cock pulsing in the throes of orgasm. I sucked as best I could, encouraging him to empty himself in my new pussy. As he slowly pulled out, exhausted, I held his cock head in my mouth as long as possible, extracting the last few drops of his nectar.

"Lay back on the pillow. I want to spoon for a bit" he said, and I was thrilled to do so. I lay on my side and he soon joined me, his body joined to mine. I leaned back into him, breathing quietly and enjoying his arm wrapped around me and owning me.

His hand slipped inside my dress, finding my bra, slipping his fingers inside and rubbing my nipples. I purred and slid my stocking clad feet against his bare feet, enjoying the sensation of fabric on skin and the comfort and peace of being caressed by my man. Is this what women enjoy in the afterglow of lovemaking? A fluttering heart and a deep satisfaction that cannot be explained? No wonder they were so upset by the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am school of sex.

After tweaking my nipples to a state of full attention, he slid his hand out of my bra and down the front of my dress, lazily rubbing my panties through the cotton of the dress. I closed my eyes and pushed against his body, willing the moment to continue.

At some point, Sir planted a soft kiss on the back of my neck, and got off the bed. I heard him move around the room, but I was too far gone even to open my eyes to see what he was doing. Then he took my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. I turned over lazily and opened my eyes, seeing him move toward the end of the bed.

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