Sweet Treat Ch. 02

This is chapter 2 from my crossdress fiction novel 'Sweet Treat" and it has been abridged so I can publish it here.

As the door opened, the richness of the summer air, combined with the drying rain, stimulated my senses with renewed freshness.

A sense of rebirth filled me; potentially, a whole new world was now becoming accessible.

Pausing on the footpath, I glanced around to see if any neighbors were watching, but life was carrying on as normal.

Did anybody really care about my own inner desires? Of course not, they almost all held their own secrets too.

Nervously, smoothing down my skirt, then the white jacket, I gave my blouse a gentle tug also, to display a little more cleavage.

I felt the sway of my ass instinctively release a torrent of profound suppressed feminine sexuality. 

Jayne opened the garden gate, just as two young men were walking up the street toward us. My heart began to race, and suddenly I was not only aware of a physical attraction, but also the sense of empowerment which welled from deep within. Both my hands gripped the hem of my white jacket, giving it a firm tug to enable it to cling to my new figure more so, and display even more of my artificial cleavage. To be given such attention was explosive.

Inside the transparent casing, my restrained cock tried unsuccessfully to enlarge itself, in a demonstration of wanton sexual desire.

"Good evening," one of the young men smiled, his hand unmistakably fiddling within the confines of a trouser pocket.

"Hello gentlemen," I replied instinctively, tipping my white officers cap further askew rebelliously, the gloss of my scarlet lipstick glistening enticingly with the smile. The second man replied, "It certainly could be a good evening." Both grinned wolfishly, as though I was a lamb they wished to devour.

Jayne looked surprised when we stopped at the car, the guys still glancing back over their shoulders.

"You brazen tramp!" she laughed, and I flicked my golden locks back without even realizing and gave the guys a discrete wave with my fingers.

As we slipped on our seatbelts, I looked across to Jayne, enquiring, "That went alright, didn't it?"

Placing her hand on my stockinged knee she quietly said "Alright? if that is anything to go by, you'll be busy, fighting them off all night".

She reached into her handbag, "'I've a small gift, which should enhance the impression you are trying to create," she beamed, handing me a pink, faux leopard-skin phone case.

Jayne parked the car almost outside Helen's house, and we carefully strode up the path, or rather Jayne did, as I swayed my way along its length.

Helen opened the front door, bringing a hand to her open mouth as she stared, "Goodness me, you look incredible, Steve" she stammered.

In the long hallway, several people were hanging up jackets, and from somewhere came a long wolf-whistle. Of the people in the hallway, none had been too particular in their efforts for a fancy-dress party, and in truth, I could barely recognize who any of the characters were supposed to be. Edging sideways, through the small gathering, as I headed to the lounge, an anonymous hand gave my ass a firm squeeze. I did not look around, but instead I paused, just long enough, as an acknowledgement, presenting whoever it was, a second opportunity. This time my anonymous admirer took the opportunity to grab it more centrally, sending a shiver right through my hips, before I moved away.

Entering the lounge, I congratulated Helen on the wonderful effect she had achieved, with the decorations, and a superb selection of vintage posters, depicting a selection of musicians or movie stars. The gathering of two dozen or so people in the room created a low hum of conversation, which suddenly seemed to ebb. I realized almost all the eyes had turned to me.

Many stood motionless, a glass or plate in their hand, staring. My cheeks began to burn with embarrassment at this sudden mass attention. Wives or partners were clearly averse to my presence, as several raised their chins, looking down their noses with disdain, whilst others glared and sucked their pursed lips, in a gesture of guarded aggression.

Were some of the straight guys here really getting heated by my cross-dressed look, as a female US Navy Officer I pondered?

Quickly, the room began to return to its previous volume as people continued their conversation's, although now I was receiving the occasional sneer.

"Would you care for a drink?" a voice said behind me. I turned to see a young man dressed half-heartedly as a younger version of the pop-star Madonna, or so I thought, from the bullet bra, skewwhiff wig, and makeup which looked as though he'd fallen headfirst into the Maybelline counter at a department store. I thanked him and asked for an orange juice, with which he returned moments later. This was the trigger for several of the other men in the room to walk over and chat, and the poor young 'Madonna' was quickly jostled out of the way.

Several of the men in the room introduced themselves. Some asked for a selfie with me, to which I was happy to oblige. They also took the opportunity to place a strong arm around my waist and give me squeeze, as they used their own phones, and then at their request, I did the same with my own, extending my arm out, which allowed all to see my pink leopard skin case, which seemed to excite them further.

After each photograph taken on my own phone, they insisted I send it to them. When I explained I didn't have their details, they gave a smile, then took the device from my hand, and emailed the picture to themselves.

Suddenly, it crystallized how I had been slyly duped into exchanging contact details.

As they gathered around, I was hemmed in, and several hands used this opportunity to fondle my bum or thighs. Finally, with my bum glowing from the thorough groping it had received, I had gotten a few moments to myself with another glass of orange juice and a straw, to avoid ruining my lipstick, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I found myself looking into the eyes of a tall, sturdily built handsome man in his early forties, approximately fifteen years my senior and the same age as Jayne.

"Hi Tom," I gushed to Helen's husband.

He congratulated me on my uniform, and to emphasize his approval further, gave my bum a discrete, gentle stroke, causing me to look at him astonished.

"A nice, lovely bum, and as sweet as candy," he winked back.

"I guess so," I stammered, utterly surprised at his completely unexpected forwardness toward my femininity.

Glancing nervously around, he cupped one of my buttocks with his palm and stated, "Helen didn't place as much effort on the desserts, so this must be the sweet treat." His palm continued to support my ass for what seemed a long time, until another man suddenly appeared alongside Tom.

He too was tall, a stocky barrel chest, slender waist and very handsome in his tanned skin, slicked back, black hair, and beautifully cut, black suit.

"This is Mátyás," Tom smiled, explaining the man was a business acquaintance who imported Hungarian wines, which therefore meant he was effectively sponsoring the party.

"Stefania, I believe," he smiled, with a heavy eastern European accent, holding out his large hard. I shook it. An involuntary shudder of excitement ran through me. He grabbed a drink from a passing tray and asked me to join him.

As he sat on the cream sofa, he patted the seat next to him.

"Beautiful legs, Stefania," he nodded.

"Thank you," I replied.

He asked me how long I had been dressing, and I informed him that in secret, it had been some years, but now was the first time I had been out. He congratulated me once again.

"So, tell me Stefania," he purred, "do you get pleasure from dressing as such a beautiful woman, or do you enjoy the attention you are getting from all these men?" he said. Colour rushed to my cheeks, and he instantly apologized for being so forward.

I informed him that I did find the attention somewhat rather exciting.

"It shows Stefania, you are commanding this room. It is amazing, the sexuality you secrete," he replied silkily.

I smiled nervously, "Thank you, Mátyás," I whispered.

"Tell me Stefania, would I be correct that you have felt you have wanted an opportunity to attend a party such as this some time?", he asked, putting me at complete ease with his nonchalant tone.

"Yes, for so long," I replied, surprising myself at the honesty I was telling this stranger.

"I am so pleased for you," he smiled, "I can see how contented you are with yourself. It is wonderful to see."

I thanked him once again.

Mátyás then excused himself, explaining he had to talk some more business with Tom, and kissing my hand, he stood and then left the room. 

I decided to make my way to the back garden for a cigarette, or rather the use of my electric cigarette; respecting the hosts wishes of no smoking in the house.

I passed through the mass of people that you always find in a kitchen, no matter what the party is. Exiting out of the back door, and into the night, I opened my purse and reached inside for my e-cigarette.

Placing it between my lips, I was just about to inhale, when a cigarette lighter was struck before me. Looking up I found myself looking into the twinkling eyes of man in his twenties. His white teeth glinting in the pale light from the doorway.

"It's not a real cigarette," I said politely.

"I know," he laughed, lighting his own cigarette, and drawing on it deeply, "but I really must give these up"

He introduced himself as Szebasztián, and the deputy assistant manager for Mátyás, stating he was visiting from Hungary. I introduced myself, and he gave a broad grin, running hand through his short, tight, dark wiry hair, "Everyone knows who you are Stefania, you are the talk of the evening."

"Really?" I asked in genuine astonishment.

"Of course," he smiled, "such beauty will always create a stir, even amongst straight men," he laughed, adding mischievously, "and especially their jealous wives."

"Are you married?", I asked in response to his statement.

"No, I am not married, it was merely an observation," he answered in a calm but weighted eastern European accent.

Suddenly, I realized my eyes had lingered on the crotch of his perfectly fitted jeans. Szebasztián smiled, before asking if I would care to walk in the garden with him.

Thankfully, Helen's garden was spacious, with a footpath, so I could walk without my heels sinking into the soft lawn. Szebasztián placed his hand around my waist, giving my bum a testing caress. He cupped the taught material, just beneath my ass, and pressed his middle finger firmly into the material. The evening was now dark, and he pointed to a bench which was under a tree. I felt my heart rise into my throat, then slipped my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. It was a snug fit. As we reached the bench, he offered me a seat which I declined on account of my white skirt getting dirty from the dust and residual raindrops upon it. He laughed and apologized for his lack of foresight.

Standing behind the bench, one of his hands began to knead my fake breasts as the other slid onto my leg and began to move under my skirt.

"Szebasztián," I gasped, my cock aching in its cage, as my hands squeezed his ass hard.

 "I presume this is your first night Stefania, but I want you to suck my cock," he teased in my ear.

"I want to also, but not here, not tonight," I whispered softly.

"I understand," he panted, brushing his lips over my neck, as his hand slid further beneath my skirt, where the fingers began to creep toward the centre of my ass.

Slowly, I reached down and rolled my palm over the domed denim at the front of his jeans. Gasping at his hardness, I pressed firmer, massaging his strong cock through the material.

His other hand now raised my skirt as his teeth delicately bit into my neck.

"No panties, you are a very naughty girl," he gasped.

My hands fumbled to undo his jeans. He wore no underwear either, but I said nothing, as my virgin hands cupped his hot, hairless balls. Eventually I reached the head and circled my fingers around it.

"Oh my, you're uncut," I exclaimed, as I relished his foreskin between my massaging fingertips.

Szebasztián began to kiss my neck harder, as I slowly slid the foreskin down, an experience I had dreamt of for so long, revelling in the resistance. Looking down I estimated him to be about seven inches long, just like myself.  

Moving my gripping palm up and down his length, I began to wank him. I watched him place two fingers in his mouth, then he reached down and pushed them deep into my arsehole in one swift movement. We buried our faces in each other's necks to stifle the moans, delighting ourselves in the intense masturbation.

"Stefania, when we meet in private," he gasped, "I want to fill your ass with my cock, I want to flood you with my spunk."

My knee's shook at this thought, and so I allowed them to bend a little, lowering myself further onto his fingers.

"Perhaps," I panted in his ear, as my other hand searched for his balls, "open your legs," I whispered, which he did as best he could manage, with his jeans at his feet.

"Is this nice?" I teased, allowing my almond, scarlet fingernails to reach behind his swollen sac, and gently scrape their way forward.

"Stefania," he gasped.

Wrapping my fingers slowly around his girth, I squeezed the glans tightly, as my other hand took hold of his sac and clasped it tightly too. I felt the shaft pulse.

"Stefania," he hissed, as his breathing turned to panting.

I turned his hips away from my skirt, my fake breasts squashing against his chest, "In private, I may let you unload in my mouth," I said without thinking.

At this, his cock began to jump uncontrollably, and without warning he forced a third finger, painfully inside me.

"Ouch," I yelled, but he didn't stop, instead, he drove those the three fingers right up to their knuckles. My grip became firmer, as I massaged the entire length of his thick prick with long, hard, deliberate strokes.

He gave a stifled yell, and my eyes dropped, to see a large eruption of pale semen, arc majestically through the dark night air.

"Beautiful," I whispered to myself.

"Oh shit," Szebasztián moaned, throwing his head back, and his shaft jumped more vigorously, but the ferocious ejaculations were ebbing, being replaced by thick, creamy slime, which had oozed its way out of the glowing glans.

"That was incredible," I whispered to myself, as the power of his orgasm began to subside.

Without warning, Szebasztián stood upright, slipping all three of his fingers from me, leaving a gaping hole, into which the evening air poured.

He shook the cum from his cock and pulled up his jeans, whilst I smoothed down my skirt. Looking toward him, I could not find any words, for I was still shocked by my own display, so I merely smoothed down my skirt again.

 "You are quite the girl, Stefania," he smiled warmly at me, buttoning his jeans. 

Slowly, we walked back toward the house, and he smoked another cigarette, as the voices in the kitchen became louder.

With each step I could feel my stretched arsehole throb with pleasure, and my constrained cock ache.

"I look forward to our meeting in private one day," he winked as he stepped into the kitchen.

Moments later, Jayne emerged from the house, and into the dim light to join me.

"There you are," she grinned, as I felt myself blush.

She looked me up and down and told me that I really needed to adjust my jacket, which upon inspection was very creased over my fake breasts.

"So, how is your evening going, Stefania?" she whispered, an elbow pressing enquiringly into my upper arm.

"Not too bad," I beamed cryptically.

"I am so pleased you are enjoying yourself," she smiled, offering me a cheek to kiss, in acknowledgement of the gratitude she deserved.

"Better get back inside, people are wondering where the belle of the ball has gone," Jayne said.

 Mátyás entered the room through the main door, until he found himself looking in my direction, at which he began raising a hand, his fingers poised around the stem of an empty wine glass. I nodded an acknowledgement, and watched him pour some white wine, and deftly sweep through the small crowd, to join me.

With an extended arm I accepted the drink, thanking him.

 "Beautiful nails, Stefania," he said, adding warmly, "in fact your whole attention to detail is meticulous."

"Come," he said, softly taking my fingers in his own, leading me to an empty armchair, in which he placed himself. Briefly I pondered on his lack of courtesy in not offering me the seat, but he patted the arm of the chair for me to sit upon. As I did so, the tight white material emphasized my bum. He crooked a finger, causing me to lean down. His cologne was a deep, rich, masculine musk, with a light citrus, contrasting undertone. It suited him well; a level of sophistication, containing a soft, lightheartedness.

"So, what is your...job?" he asked politely. I explained I was currently working in an administrative role for a supermarket.

"Ironically, Stefania," he began, "the wine business is now very fragile because of the supermarkets."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I muttered.

"It's fine," he laughed, patting my thigh, "because in Hungary, and here, in this town, I also run a photographic studio business, specializing in models."

"That sounds very exciting, would I have seen any of your work?" I quizzed.

"My work has a particular flavour," he said, holding his gaze at me.

With a short laugh, and smile of acknowledgement, I understood.

"I truly feel Stefania," he began, "you have the potential to be a great crossdresser model."

"I have free time, tomorrow in the studio, for a test-shoot, if you would care to attend," he smiled softly, raising his glass invitingly.

Nervously, I ran my finger around the rim of my own glass.

He held my gaze, awaiting my answer, as words failed to leave my mouth. A delicate smile broke across his face, as he recognized the stupefaction was a positive reaction, and not that of rejection.

With this understanding, I was asked to remain, at which he stood, before informing me he would be back very shortly, and left me in utter bewilderment as he strode toward the kitchen.

Had I really just been offered a test shoot as a potential model?

A shake of the head stopped the ridiculous ideas, as I began to calm myself with some slow deep breaths.

Within a couple of minutes, he was back in my company.

"I have spoken to Jayne, and she said you are completely free tomorrow, she has no plans, so no excuses" he beamed.

As we talked, I enquired as to what I would need to bring to his studio, only to be told I was perfect as I was, but the option to change would not be an issue as he had a large selection of outfits. He handed me a business card, which was in Hungarian.

Helen then called out for Mátyás.

A few moments later, and to my utter surprise, I heard his voice boom my name, over the busy room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he addressed to the room, "I'm sure you will agree with me, when I acknowledge tonight, the incredible effort which Stefania has made for this party."

He held out a hand as I sauntered on my heels to a chorus of whistles and applause, moving to accept the two cases of Kreinbacher extra dry sparkling wine.  

I shook Mátyás' hand, but he leant forward, placing a kiss on the side of my face. Turning, I thanked everyone for the encouragement, as I felt my cheeks glowing with embarrassment. There followed a dribble of applause, several of the men were whistling. I waved to them, and received a loud cheer in return, whilst some of the women glared back with utter disdain.