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Kwix Meet
I saw him outside the Kwix: He had stopped dead in his tracks, as he walked toward me. He had short dark hair, slim build with good cheek-bones and brown-eyes. He had smiled directly at me, smiled and said, "Hello."
He hadn't seemed surprised by the puzzled expression on my face. "You don't recall my face, do you?" he said with a grin. "No," I replied. "Well, it wasn't my face you were looking at..." he retorted. I was curious, very. But, the bank was due to close and I needed some money. I told him this.
"Well, you come back and I'll be over there waiting," he assured me in reply, indicating the bench seat on the green outside the library. It was a few feet behind where we stood talking. "I'll be there having a smoke. I'll wait there awhile," he added. "Uh huh," I'd answered, "Okay."
I'd then walked on to the bank, mulling over how come he knew me: and, seemed to know me so well. A short while later, I approached him with a little trepidation. "Glad you decided to come over to chat," He greeted me with a smile. "Well I was curious..." I began. "Well, I was thinking we could go back to mine and you could remind me how good you were, on your knees."
For a second, or sixty, it felt like my heart had stopped, as I recalled the last time we had met.
It'd been on the path, just outside the red-brick cottage, by the lay-by, on the main road, just a half mile from where I live. The police had arrived and people had scattered like you wouldn't believe. Yet, as we'd been amidst the bushes, we'd been alright and just sloped off quietly.
There it was, recognition.
"I walked home with wet knees," I tell him with a smile. He offers me his right hand. "Name's Steve," he says with a bright smile. Shaking hands, I feel strength in him. "So are you coming back to mine, to finish what you started?" He queries. Looking into his eyes momentarily, I nod.
The rapidly growing erection in my pants reminded me how interested I was. "So what's your name?" Steve asks, as he releases my hand. I realise it's sweaty. I'm scared, but very aroused. "Names Kevin..."
I'd wondered for years what might have happened that night, if we'd not been interrupted. Now here was a chance to find out.
"Do you live far from here?" I ask, now feeling highly nervous. He's grinning broadly as he answers. "Not far. Horny are you?" I nod.
I wanted to tell him so much. I wanted to tell him that he was pretty well the last guy I'd been with, since that night. Then there'd been a fiancée, a Latina; she had liked to dress me up and use her fingers on me, as I lay there.
I had to ask, I had to ask. "I like to wear pretty things. Can I go back home and get them?" Going quiet a minute, Steve looks at me. "You'll bottle out fella, I can see that. You want something pretty to wear, we'll go get it, after all you've got the money on you."
Again, I nod.
Given the chance, I would probably `bottle it', I'm sure of it. But, there's something about him, which commands me to acquiesce.
"War On Want? Or The Samaritans?" He asks with that confident self-assured grin, as he guides me by my left shoulder back. He directs me back toward the village and the second hand shops, he'd mentioned.
All the time, my anxiety is mounting.
Just the idea of wearing pretty things and going down on my knees, like I did way back then, had become my sole focus. But, I was frightened. I wasn't gay. But I had ... likes, preferences. His voice breaks my reverie. "So we're here. What are you after?"
We're at the precinct, at The Samaritans.
"You go in, I'll have a smoke." I look at him, fleetingly wondering whether he'll be there when I walk out of the shop. But, I do push the door open, terror filling my gut as the bell above the door rings. I've never bought my own pretty things, Valerie used to do all that. Now, now I'm doing it myself. And, I'll be wearing then before another man, the one who I never finished the job with.
"Can I help?" An assistant in her late fifties, with too much blonde hair, piled high on her head asks. My hand on a beautifully soft lilac slip, I shake my head. "Are you sure?" She asks in a gentle voice, placing a light hand on mine, as I hold the soft material, my fingers unconsciously lingering there. "I want..." I stammer.
Looking around me, I realise there's just the two of us. "Go on sweety, tell me..." "I want to find..." I couldn't find the words, just couldn't find the words. "You want to find something feminine to wear, something pretty?" She's made it easy for me; and I nod.
"My names' Sylvie," she says in a soft, reassuring tone, leading me towards a long wall mirror. I look into the mirror, with the blonde behind me, shorter than me, one hand on my shoulder. "You're slim, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Maybe such light colouring would look good in dark colours. Maybe even, the traditional, little black dress?" She muses aloud, looking at me, in the mirror.
"Mmmm, you stay there a moment!" She instructs. And I do, finding it easier to accede to what she has told me, than think for myself.
And, I wait, as I'm aware of Steve peering in; and, as an old-ish woman comes into the shop and once more, the bell goes `ding'. "I'll be out in a minute," she calls from the back of the shop. The woman, short and moderately round, with a shock of grey hair, smiles at me gently and says, "She's always busy that one."
She peers at the racks of scarves awhile, and then moves onto the coats.
It is as she approaches the books, to the left of the mirror that Sylvie reappears, somewhat breathless. "Here you are," she says to me, thrusting a brown paper bag into my hands. "Everything is in there, including a little something." `A little something.' "How much?" I ask, quite reasonably, I feel.
She grins.
"You see what you think and come back to see me, say one day about ten to five and maybe we can talk? We can settle up then. Okay?" I like the sound of that and take her right hand in mine. "Thank you," I stammer and quickly leave the shop, to find Steve still outside, thankfully.
"Good Lord, what kept you so long?" He asks. "Well, a girl likes to look good for her man," I say to him with a light grin. "Are you ready?" I add. "Am I ... ? What?" He asks, with a bemused look. "C'mon, let's go to your place," I suggest, the brown bag and it's contents, giving me unknown confidence.
`That Sylvie was alright,' I think, following him passed the back of the library and onto the council estate.
We walk up one terrace, down a side-alley, then across a small green, by the community centre. We walk in quiet as I follow him, my hand holding the brown-carrier sweaty, real sweaty. "Two doors down is mine," Steve tells me, "you alright?" My heart is hammering, ten to the dozen. "Yes," I assure him, as we approach the gate: "Just, a little bit..." "Nervous?" he asks, as he turns the key in the front door. "Yes," I reply, as I follow him into the house and into the hallway.
He opens the door a comfortable and tidy lounge and turns to me. "The bathrooms upstairs, if you want to get changed?" "I'll pour us a drink..." He adds, one hand on the doorknob to the lounge. "What do you want?" "What do you have?" I answer, one foot at the bottom of the stairs. "Whiskey, vodka, gin..."
"Whoa, stop there," I assure him quickly, "whiskey, straight please?" "Okay, whiskey it is..." he returns, with a warm smile.
Making my way upstairs, I enter the bathroom hurriedly and open the paper bag with eager hands, immediately delighted with what is in there. I take out the little black dress, she had chosen for me, a lace trimmed black panty and bra-set and a somewhat crumpled pair of black hold-ups. Somehow, she had managed to fit beneath the clothing, a pair of black low-heel court-shoes that the shop manager had found, to fit me.
Beneath them, was the real surprise Sylvie had left for me, a lipstick.
Blown away with pleasure at such treats, I undress quickly, leaving my clothes in a nice neat pile, on top of the white plastic laundry basket, to the left of the sink.
The panties are first, then the bra, which I don't try to fill. I just like the feel of it. I then finish dressing, delighting in the feel of each item.
Finally dressed, I turn to look in the mirror, to apply the lipstick, as I'd seen my ex do. `I'll never pass,' I think, but I like what I see.
Going downstairs, I nervously hope he'll like what he sees.
I knock on the lounge-door and he answers, `Come In.' "We've got the afternoon to ourselves. The wife isn't back till six," he says to me with a smile, as I enter the lounge.
He stands facing me and reaches out with his left hand to my neck and draws me to him, my knees shaking a little. Steve places his other one arm halfway around my waist, pulling me closer still, and softly presses his lips to mine. Then his tongue is parting my lips. And then he kisses me fully, long and hard.
My first kiss, in years and it was exquisite.
This so-handsome young man holds me in his strong arms and kisses me deeply, leaving me trembling with lust as he enters my mouth with his wet tongue. I can feel his hard erection pressing against my thigh, through the thin material of the little black dress; mine is growing in my panties. Steve cups my full buttocks with his hands, and I wrap mine round his neck, as we kiss and kiss.
I just let Steve lead, delighted to feel so femme, in his strong arms.
And I'm momentarily surprised, when he gets hold or my arms, pushes them to my sides and urges me to my knees. "You know you want to," he hisses. He is right; it's why I called.
I know what I was supposed to do, and kneel before him and begin to unzip his jeans. He returned my attentions with a grin, as I brush aside the elastic of his underwear, to reveal his young, proud manhood.
Steve's manhood is firm and proud, the crown uncut. It's beautiful.
I hold his warm, hard length in gentle hands, just looking at it, for a minute. "You know what to do," he says, voice a little breathless, with desire. Kneeling between Steve's legs I leaned in to take the head of his cock into my mouth. He is already seeping pre-cum, which I just have to taste. He gasps, with pleasure, as I lick at the head of his cock, finding the sweet savoury taste of him and I wonder if he cum, here and now.
He has wide eyes and mouth formed into an `O' which I replicate with my own mouth as I take his length all-in-one. Easing his pants down, I grasp his left thigh as I hold his eight inches, finally licking the head of his cock, with relish, as I look up to him.
His eyes close momentarily, his hands now holding my shoulders.
"Oh yesss," he exclaims, as I sucked my cheeks inward, lathing the cockhead with my tongue. Then he eases out of my mouth, slowly. I look up, smiling again, before I take him whole in my mouth again.
Then cupping his hands behind my head, he slides out of my willing hole, already gagging a little, saliva dribbling down my lips to my chin. `I am face-fucking his cock,' I think, with an eager mouth. "Oh yesss," he sighs.
I keep my head down as I work on him, intent on pleasing him.
He moans and humps into my face, as his hands held the back of my head. I use my tongue, suction, as I feel his thigh's tense up. I know he is already getting close. He fills my mouth with his length and as I try to take him fully, he pulls my face into his pubes and suddenly I'm gagging.
But, he doesn't let up and I have to fight the urge to be sick, as I continue to pleasure him, this MAN. This is awesome, scary, but so awesome.
Abruptly he pushes me away, to fall to the floor, as snarls, "I want more than that, bend over the couch. And, we could have some real fun now, girlie." He had called me `girlie' and I liked it.
I hadn't expected him to treat me roughly; and quite liked it.
I look up to him, with wide eyes, very much liking the look in his. My dress had ridden up and my arousal was evident from the way I tented out my panties.
"Yep, the girlie-slut likes cock..." he says aloud, as I subconsciously attempt to ease down the dresses hem.
`Girlie-slut?' O-Boy, I liked the sound of that.
"Uh-huh," he says to me, "just bend over the cushions, then raise it over your ass."
I crawl across the carpet, to the sofa and do as he's instructed, losing the shoes on the way, pretty well without thinking. "Mmmmm..." he murmurs, "Nice ass."
I look over my right shoulder into his lust-filled eyes, as he holds his erection, dripping with my saliva and his pre-cum.
"Pull your panties aside, I want to see your pussy..."
`Pussy, my pussy?' I ease the gusset aside with my left hand, thankful that before I'd left his bathroom I'd seen a convenient tub of Vaseline, which I'd used to lube myself up.
Spreading my thighs roughly, Steve kneels down between them.
He parts my buttocks, as he holds his hard cock toward my waiting hole. The cockhead rest against my puckered ring, but a moment, as he pushes forward. And, I groan loudly, clenching my fists.
He feels massive, as he enters me, filling me completely. And, I love it. Once he bottoms out, his pubes against my ass-flesh, Steve grasps my hips and begins a slow back and forth motion, which quickly has me gasping for breath.
Pussy, my pussy... he's using my pussy,' I think, as my eyes close and I remember him calling me a girlie-slut.'
I am. I'm a girlie-slut, for him and his beautiful cock that begins to piston back and forth, finding places that even my ex couldn't reach.
And, I grasp the cushions, as he shunts in and out, his thighs slapping against the back of mine, as his sweat begins to fall, onto the back of my neck. I tighten my hole around his dick, and hear him moan.
He grabs hold of my shoulders to get a better grip, pushing deeper into me. Steve is soon pounding into me and grunting with every thrust, with my bowels pushing hard against his repeated intrusions.
He begins to pant, and I know that it won't be long now and can feel my own rush building. Suddenly he is grunting and pushing in long deep thrusts, as he thrusts into my ass-pussy. In a moment I feel Steve's cock twitching inside me.
I can feel his cock throbbing inside me, as his cum squirts though his rock hard shaft. I can't help but groan, as he continues to empty his balls. "Fucking hell!" he bellows, as he shoots deep into me.
The blast of hot cum in my ass had sent me over the edge, and I began to cum my seed into my panties, soaking them. Steve collapses onto my back, then rises up and pulls out, leaving my anus burning and dripping with his cum.
"That is one tight pussy!" He exclaims, as he slaps my buttocks. Steve doesn't seem to mind that he is naked from the waist down as he stands there his wilting cock swinging around in front of him.
Breathing hard still, I reach round with curious fingers, to my tender ass-pussy, which opens easily at my touch, as his creamy-goo continues to drip from me.
He smiles as he dresses, watching me finger myself.
Much as there had been some pain, I had loved the way it felt to be seen and used as a girl and dressed like this; I can't help but hope that it might happen again, soon.