transformation

July 21, 2019

He became she that day, his wife’s thirtieth birthday: it had been an ongoing fantasy of hers, and he’d finally, reluctantly acquiesced. His transformation took four or five hours, including depilation of body hair, make-up, fitting a blonde wig – but it was worth it: he looked very feminine, indeed, most convincing.

They were in a groundfloor apartment at Grenoble, France on holiday.

His wife named him Margot after the doll she’d had as a child. She provided the breast-forms to fit in his bra, and the rest of his female attire, dresses, pantyhose, panties. She taught him to walk on high heels like a woman. And tied a chic, silken scarf round his neck to hide his Adam’s apple. She also provided the press-on manicure gel nails for his fingers and toes.

‘You really are beautiful,’ she told him.

And he was.

They went out to a local restaurant for dinner. Male heads turned as Margot walked by.

‘They all want you,’ his wife said.

They ordered risotto and champagne and Margot flirted with the waiter.

‘You need a boyfriend,’ his wife said. ‘I can arrange it. It’d be so hot to watch you getting laid.’

‘That’s not on,’ Margot replied in a hissed whisper. ‘Not part of the arrangement. I’ll be Margot for the week but sex with a man is out.’

‘Oh, not one man, darling – many men.’ Before he could respond her hand had become busy up his skirt under the table. Her fingers were expert. She concentrated on the end of his penis which now jutted from his panties. ‘You will do it, won’t you darling? Just for me? For our love?’

‘Just the one time, yeah. A one off.’ And then he groaned as the sperm was teased out of him by her pinching fingertips.

Three days later as Margot, he entered the sitting room of their apartment to be confronted by four athletic-looking young man in bathing costumes. All four had obvious hard-ons.

His wife at his side urged him to get on with it.

Outside, beyond the wet patio, it had stopped raining, but he could see that drops of rain clung to the petals of the rose bushes. But by then the four young men were pulling him down to the mosaic floor. And it really didn’t matter anymore.

Naughty Reading

December 9, 2017

This one might have confused Simone de Beauvoir…?

My ex-girlfriend used to say she was turned on by the idea of two men together sexually. She kept bringing up the subject of gay love. Finally, one weekend when we’d both had a few drinks, she asked me straight-out if I’d ‘go’ with another guy to please her. Did I love her that much?

With some reluctance, I said, ‘Yeah, okay,’ thinking it was just talk and nothing would come of it.

I didn’t know it at the time, but she used to have this boyfriend, Chris, who was bi. They were both still in touch, and she phoned him there and then. ‘Strike while the iron was hot,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said. He’d be only to please to help with this fantasy of hers.

The next day, Sunday, he came round before lunch. He walked up to me and kissed me on the mouth, then took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

My girl was so happy, so excited. She followed us in.

So we all stripped off and I went down on him, sucking him hard. My girl’s face was flushed as she watched; she was turned on as hell, that much was obvious.

We didn’t manage full intercourse, him and me, mainly because he shot his load in my mouth. Once he’d left, she kept on about how hot we’d looked together. We made love, me and her.

The following weekend, she gave me a pair of black lacy panties. ‘Put them on,’ she said. ‘I want to see you look like a girl.’ So I did – to please her. I even let her make-up my face, lipstick and mascara.

The doorbell rang a little later. ‘That’ll be Chris,’ she said. ‘He’s determined to pop your cherry, sweetie, while I watch.’

And that’s exactly what he did!

Source HERE

Cross dressing and sex…

August 28, 2015

Peedeel as Navina

Peedeel as Navina

One time I became entangled with a woman who wanted to feminise me. Without wondering why, I allowed her, Annora, to do as she wished with me.

She said, ‘I’m going to transform you.’ She was in her late thirties, if not her early forties, while I was a naïve teen, totally besotted by her. ‘First, though, we’re going to get rid of all that ugly body hair…’

She lay half across me on the bed, her long body naked. As she worked with shaving cream and a razor, she kissed my mouth, kissing me at times so hard it hurt. She said, ‘You have just seven, eight seconds to make an impression on someone. If you want to convince them you’re female, it’s got to happen in those few seconds. You need to learn to act the way girls do.’

She use a depilatory cream on me (it stank), then carefully plucked my eyebrows. The whole process seemed to be taking forever.

She used some foundation on my face, across cheeks and chin, then made-up my eyes before applying lipstick.

‘You look quite beautiful,’ she said. ‘Let’s get some clothes and fix that hair.’

She selected a black, flower-print summer dress and a pair of bangles for my wrist. The dress was a little tight across the chest and , but looked okay.

She had a number of wigs, and picked a reddish one that matched my own colouring. I looked in the mirror and could hardly believe the transformation. An attractive young woman looked back from the glass.

‘Unbelievable,’ I said. I was truly amazed. ‘I need a new name to go with the look.’

‘ Navina,’ she suggested. ‘It’s a name from Sanskrit and means new one.’

‘Very appropriate.’

‘We need to find shoes for those big feet of yours,’ she said. ‘I’ll see what I can pick up tomorrow in the market. For now you can go bare foot.’

I remained compliant because of my desire for her. She was very beautiful, and she treated me like an adult, gave me glasses of cold white wine and cigarettes.

Such passion, amorous passion is pure delirium…

Over lunch Annora told me a married couple were calling on her that afternoon. They were the Greenes, Mr and Mrs, and they wanted to spend time with me – as a girl.

‘Really?’ I asked.

She mentioned the fee they were to pay. She said, ‘Mrs Greene is attractive. She wants to watch her husband with you. When he’s finished, she wants you to embrace her…Annora always used the word embrace when she meant ‘fuck’.

Because it was what she wanted me to do, I agreed. I allowed her to prostitute me for the first time…But my body, like my soul belonged to her anyway. I’d given them freely, and without regret. I wanted to be inside her darkest everything.

‘And tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a day to ourselves. We’ll have a pamper day. Just you and me…And I’ll do my best to make it really special for you.’

And when the Greenes arrived and were shown through to the bedroom at the rear of the apartment, I’m was waiting for them in my dress but bare-footed.

Mr Greene kissed me on the back of the neck, on the mouth, while his wife stroked the soft flesh of my inner thigh. I closed my eyes, giving up all boundaries. Between them they undressed me and themselves…

Afterwards Annora asked, ‘Did you enjoy her? She certainly enjoyed you. Wants to visit again. They both do.’

She flicked her hair in that cute way she had, but turned her face away as she spoke.

‘He was like a small clockwork toy,’ I said quietly. ‘He ran down so quickly. Unlike her.’

‘But she had her climax?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you with her?’

‘Finally, yes.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘And tomorrow you’ll do the same for me. Only many, many more times…’

And that promise of future delights dissolved the edges of me, left me feeling as if I could assimilate her, absorb her through the very pores of my skin, become one with her.

At that time she lived in a third floor apartment on Alexander Avenue. I remember clearly gazing from the window at the dark outside.

‘It’s getting late,’ she said. ‘You’d best get yourself off home. I should wash that make-up off first, though. And get your own clothes on.’

‘Yes,’ I replied.

She kissed my mouth.

‘Sex is always so monstrous,’ she said.

I would have told her then that I loved her, but I feared she would laugh at me. Instead I went to get cleaned up and change clothes.

‘I’ll be round about ten in the morning,’ I said.

‘We can have breakfast in bed,’ she replied.

Outside I looked up to see if she were standing at the window to wave to me but she wasn’t. I walked slowly home across the recreation ground in the rain.

Peedeel as Petra…

December 24, 2014

phonebox

Rave from the grave. Peedeel in fancy dress, Christmas 2005. He/She’s lost her tiny silk panties again, and is going to phone for help!