If you like this story--or even if you don't--please consider donating so that Nifty can continue to publish and prosper. This is a transgender, crossdressing story.
TAMPONS
Nikki wore a pair of those fuck-me pantyhose, the kind with an oval opening that stretches from the lower abdomen to the top of the crack. They were sheer black. She wore her lace panties--a contrasting pink--on the outside of her pantyhose so all she had to do was pull them off and toss them aside when it came time for sex. Her lace bra was black, its empty cups a modest B-size. Up top Nikki wore her platinum-blonde pageboy wig along with heavy swaths of green eyeshadow to match her eyes. Her pretty Cupid's mouth was painted bright cherry-red.
Both Roger and Paul, her new friends, wanted Nikki on her back as they took turns fucking her. "So we can see your pretty face," one of them claimed. It also meant they could play with her "pretty little clit" while fucking her. "Do you ever get hard when you're being fucked?" Paul, her second partner of the afternoon, asked as his own hard cock, smaller than Roger's, made its rhythmic motion inside her.
"No. Sorry," Nikki replied.
"That can be fixed," a satiated Roger, still in the bedroom, advised.
"Paul found time to laugh. "He's not kidding. He imports the stuff."
"From China," Roger explained. "We're the sole distributor for it. Exclusive rights. Amazing stuff. I could get hard again right now and fuck you."
From Paul escaped another laugh. "Watch out. He's not kidding."
"And the best part is...no headaches," the two partners concluded in tandem. Now they both laughed as Nikki, other things or her mind and in her body, tried to smile. She'd only ever been fucked before on her hands and knees. This was different, novel. She liked it. This way she could wrap her slender legs around her lover's back as he fucked her, and this made her feel oh-so fem. For wasn't that how women did it, legs in the air, while being fucked vaginally? The only problem with this position was that her painted face was there for all to see, and read. Her frowns upon entry, her forced smiles as she attempted to play along with her lover--or lovers--all the while her state of bliss--and corresponding moans--were being interrupted. When on your hands and knees they couldn't see anything--except for your ass, of course. When in that position you were kind of in your own little world.
Nikki's circumcised "clit" did begin to swell, and lengthen. But only after Paul, having shot his load in her, his load commingling deep insider her with Roger's, pulled out. "Oh look what we have here," a surprised--and depleted--Paul exclaimed.
"What?" Roger, momentarily out of view, asked.
"Our sweet little girl is actually a boy."
"Oh my!" Roger declared.
Paul, glossy cock now drooping but still between Nikki's legs, which had slid off his back with a frictive sound, began to stroke Nikki's sudden erection. "You sure you didn't give Nikki some of your medicine?"
Roger laughed as he came and stood over the latest action. "Looks like I didn't need to. She has a nice one."
"I'll say. Honey?" addressing the gurl he'd just fucked; the gurl, knees up, lying on her back, blonde wig slightly askew against the pillow. "Did anyone ever tell you you have an amazing clit?"
"Seven inches?" Roger wondered.
"Maybe. Close."
Nikki's red lips had parted as an expression of concern, apprehension, spread over her face. "I-I'm going to cum," she stuttered.
"So?" a stroking Paul asked.
"That's what it's all about, honey."
"We had our orgasms," said Paul. "Now it's your turn."
And with that--a solitary, muted "Oh!"--Nikki quickly shot her pent-up load, the first of it landing just below her bra, on her flat, shaved belly, the next decorating the waist of her pantyhose, as if an odd-shaped, irregular pearl, or string of pearls, on a sheer black background. The rest dribbling on her lower abdomen, inside the oval opening--and on Paul's pleasure-giving hand. "Feel better now, hon?" he asked. "Rog, could you get us a couple of towels. Our gurl's made quite a mess of things."
Paul was being playful, and facetious, but a mortified Nikki took it differently. She exhaled the breath--audibly--she realized she'd been holding in. She didn't like to cum during sex. For one thing that was a man's thing. Ejaculating your sperm was hardly, well, a fem thing. For another, like most humans born male, she lost interest immediately afterwards. Felt guilty, disgusted, confused--especially when you consider Nikki, twice fucked, was lying on her back in a strange bed dressed as a woman.
Roger came over and offered her a damp hand towel. Nikki thanked him. She thanked him and, rising tentatively off her stack of pillows, and after making sure her wig was in place, began mopping up what Paul had called her "mess."
"You came a lot, Nikki," he now said, busy cleaning Nikki's sperm off his stroking hand, and the gloss of lube and cum--his and Roger's--on his own flagging cock. "When's the last time you had an orgasm, darling?"
The worst part of it was some of her semen had gotten on the front of her pantyhose. How was she ever going to completely wipe THAT off? "Oh...," Nikki said vaguely, as if sounding the first note of a musical scale. "Is it OK if I...?"
"What, darling?" Paul still kneeling between Nikki's runway model's legs.
"Get up? Go in the..."
Paul, seemingly endlessly mirthful, laughed again. He began backing off the bed. "Of course, hon. Last one off has to strip the sheets!"
"I..." Nikki, clutching the damp towel, was now in the sitting position, sticky ass on bed's edge, stockinged feet on the floor. "I will."
Another laugh. "I was kidding, Nikki! No, go do what you have to do and then join us on our patio, for another cocktail."
On her way to the bathroom Nikki collected first her discarded pink panty and then the black backpack she'd brought. In the front pocket was lube and strips of condoms, both regular and magnum-sized. Not that it mattered. Neither had been used by her barebacking new friends. In the main compartment was a spare panty--black--a package of replacement fuck-me pantyhose and a slim box of pantyliners. Nikki had also brought along, however, in a clear ziplock bag, a few max-absorption tampons. You know, just in case.
After wiping the lube and any residual leaked cum from her crack, Nikki opted for the tampons. Once she'd smeared a little K-Y on the white applicator, and after placing a stockinged foot on the covered toilet lid, Nikki, bending slightly, expertly pushed the tampon all the way inside her (it was nothing compared to the two cocks she'd just provided a willing hole for), with a wince. After extracting the applicator she turned around and bent over, exposing her to a full-length door mirror, just to make sure the little white string was hanging from her well-used anus. It was.
Pleased with herself, Nikki now stepped into the legholes of her panty and pulled it up her long, dreamy legs. Post-orgasmic blues, she was already feeling better about herself. About things in general. She'd just made two new friends, after all. Two fuckmates in need of a bottom, just as they'd advertised. And they'd seemed pleased enough with her--her fem looks, her body, her hole. Even to the point of insisting on giving her a handjob. Nikki, in the mirror above the sink, refreshed her red lipstick. "Smile," she told herself. And she did. Before, as she'd done--what?--over an hour and a half ago, making her grand, slightly insecure entrance.
"Who's got the bigger cock?" Roger asked Nikki, as he handed her an Old Fashioned. Which, given the current bourbon craze, had become "New Fashioned."
Paul waved a limp left hand. "Oh stop it, Roger." Saying to Nikki, "Don't pay any attention, hon. He's incorrigible."
After a sip of his delicious drink Paul continued: "Real question is, who's got better stamina?"
"Not Nikki!" Roger chortled, drawing a blush from his target.
"You ARE a quick-cummer, darling," Paul agreed.
"Yeah," Nikki said, "just ask my ex-wife."
The heads of both new friends revolved to him like filings to a magnet. "You were married?" one of them asked.
"To a woman?" the other.
Nikki nodded. Twice. The thing about a tampon, up your rectum, is...the absorbent gauze material can feel scratchy, and uncomfortable, if you're up and walking around. But if you're sitting, as Nikki now was, and would be during the long drive home, it was OK. It was fine. You were aware of its presence, inside you, but it was in no way discomforting. Or not much. And besides, having a tampon inside made you feel...oh-so fem!
Nikki's--Nick's--first experience with them had been on the sly, with his wife's. When she was away on business. A tampon, her panties (they both took a size 7), a bra, and stockings that were not nearly long enough for his runway model's legs...
"Yes," Nikki replied, returning from her/his brief revelry.
"Did you used to dress up then?" one of his new lovers asked.
"When she was away," Nikki again nodded.
"How long ago was that?"
Nikki shrugged under her black bra straps. "Ten years?"
"What happened?"
"To what?"
"The marriage."
"She came home one day and caught him in her underwear," Roger laughed.
Nikki looked down--inside her glass, empty except for ice cubes. "Not exactly."
"She did leave you though, right?" Roger pursued.
"It was kind of mutual. I'd kind of lost interest in sex--sex with a woman--and she--"
"That's what they all say," Paul chimed in. "When the sex goes, the marriage goes..."
Roger ignored his partner. He was on the hunt. "She what?"
"She'd started going outside our marriage for sex. Casual flings. I was fine with it but--"
"But what? I don't mean to pry," Roger added, hastily.
"No, it's fine. I was fine with her fucking other men, we tried to work something out but..."
"But she fell for someone."
Nikki, head down, again nodded.
"So after the divorce you were free to...dress up?"
"I started to, yes."
"And date other men?"
Nikki laughed. Almost. "I wouldn't call it dating."
"Have you been with a woman since then?" Paul inquired.
"Not...no. Not sexually, no. A woman split up with a friend of mine, a good friend. She started hitting on me. You know, the replacement boyfriend. We went out a couple of times, but that was it."
"You didn't fuck her?"
"No."
"Did she know you were a crossdresser?"
"No. But I think she may`ve suspected I was...sexually ambivalent."
"Gay."
"Well, bi."
"I would say you were pretty gay today, hon," Paul declared. "Two cocks up your sweet ass?"
Nikki blushed. Roger brought her a refill. She looked up, thanked him for the kindness. Or whatever it was. Plying her with alcohol as the questions came at her, quite literally, from left and right.
"Do you ever go out dressed up, Nikki?"
"No," blonde head dipping again. She looked up, rather brightly. Proudly. "I have performed though. Dressed."
"Where?"
"Online. A livestream sex site. I used to dance and..."
"Dance?"
"Well, most guys just sit there and masturbate for the camera. I wanted to be different. I put on music. Danced to it. I would start off like I am now," Nikki said, free hand making a downward gesture. "But then guys would want to see your tits, your--"
"You have tits, darling?"
"No, unfortunately. One guy out in California offered to fly me out there and set me up with the best plastic surgeon in, I guess, L.A., he claimed."
"That's what they all say,"
"You didn't take him up on it?"
"I never heard from him again."
"Typical guy," a dismissive Paul said.
"I had marriage proposals, believe it or not."
"I believe it, Nikki. You look major-league cute in your little...outfit, honey."
"A guy in Alabama. Another guy in North Carolina..."
"Southern boys."
"Probably devout Baptists on Sundays," Roger said.
Paul: "Who likes to poke she-males the other six days of the week."
"She doesn't have tits, Paul," Roger reminded his partner. "Technically she's not a she-male."
"Pity, I'd love to feel `em while I fucked her."
"You'd rather stroke her big cock."
"That too," Paul chuckled.
And just like that poor Nikki began to feel like she was no longer in the room. Or out on the screened-in patio, we should say, surrounded by the faded lumber of a six-foot privacy fence. Nikki blinked, latently. She'd just been addressed again. She was back in the "room."
"Nikki, what did you do during your performances aside of dancing and showing your tits, hon?"
"Oh. The amazing thing was...most guys wanted you to undress for them. Take off your bra, pull your panties off. Even your stockings. They wanted to see you stroke your cock, of course. And bend over and show them your ass, your hole. I got lots of compliments about my asshole."
"I imagine," Paul said. "A fuckable one it is, darling."
"The problem was," Nikki continued, anxious for some reason to spill the beans about her livestream performing days, "the ones who were most demanding were the ones who didn't pay you anything."
"Pay you? You earned money doing it?"
Nikki nodded. "Tokens. And then once you reached a certain level you cashed your tokens in. And they sent you money via PayPal or whatever."
"Who did? The viewers?"
"No, the site."
"Did you perform sex acts, Nick?" Roger asked.
"Nikki," his partner reminded him.
"Well, I would masturbate for them," Nikki replied. "And bend over and insert a dildo. You know..."
Roger and Paul looked over at one another, smiling. "You love it up the ass, don't you darling?" one of them said. It was a rhetorical question.
"Oh, yes." The alcohol was getting to Nikki again. All her post-orgasmic blues had been washed away; effaced. Roger was standing in front of her now, over her. He was naked. He was stroking himself, his swelling semi-erection.
"Would you like to go again, Nikki? Another fuck?"
"Fucks," Paul corrected. He'd just risen off his flower-cushioned chair and he, too, was stroking himself. Getting hard.
"I hope you don't mind, Nikki," Roger said, his smile a sly one, "but I ground up one of those magic pills I told you about earlier and dropped it in your drink. You're going to be getting hard, too, in a moment, dear."
"The better to stroke her," Paul added.
"No, it's my turn to stroke our fine-feathered friend here."
"We can both stroke her as we fuck her," Paul said, a little testily.
"Fine then. Darling? We've been without a fuckmate for months now, as we advertised. And we're really horny, in need. OK?"
Paul: "For her."
"For you, my sweet. Can we fuck you again, like, right now?"
Nikki, in her wig and makeup and bra and panties and fuck-me hose, started to rise. She was also starting, involuntarily, to rise up in her cute pink panties. "I'd love for you to fuck me again." She remembered something. "I just have to..."
"What, darling?"
"Oh. Remove my tampon."
"Tampon?" Roger and Paul exclaimed, as one.
Paul, going first this time and with Nikki in a more familiar position, on her elbows and knees, tugged at the white string. Amused, he pulled harder.
And out popped Nikki's tampon, glossy and sweetly redolent with lube, and perhaps commingled cum.
Paul handed the thing to his partner as if it were a dead white mouse, by the very end of its tail. "Well this is different," he announced, before plunging his cock once again into Nikki's vacated hole. "Oh darling," he further declared. "Where have you been all our lives, with this willing hole of yours?"
Roger, standing nearby and having disposed of the "dead mouse," turned uncharacteristically somber for a moment. "Nikki, we didn't ask. You didn't tell," the man with the biggest cock in the bedroom said. "But you don't go around having unprotected sex all the time, do you?"
Nikki glanced over her right shoulder. The black bra straps. It was good to be down like this again, in a familiar position. Utterly submissive. "I haven't had intercourse with a man," using a quaint phrase, "in probably six months."
"Did the guy wear a condom?"
After a pregnant pause Nikki replied, "No."
Paul, fucking her dilated hole, said: "Leave her be, Roger."
"I'm just saying..."
Paul, addressing Nikki: "Are you healthy, hon?"
"Oh, absolutely," her reply.
Roger seemed latently apprehensive. "Nikki, if you're gonna be our regular partner we have to know it's safe to bareback you."
Now you bring it up, Nikki thought. "It's safe."
"Will you chill, Roger? I'm trying to fuck the bitch." He was doing more than that. He'd reached under and was stroking Nikki's beautiful, long, arced "clit."
Bitch? They'd unconsciously entered, the threesome, a new territory. Nikki said, to their surprise, "Spank me. Spank your bitch."
Paul, six inches deep in his charge, looked over at his life-partner. As if to say, "Can you believe our luck?"
Paul let go of Nikki's cock and began, instead, smacking her pale ass. The right side of it. "We should've tied her up," he declared.
"Next time," Roger agreed. "She's a submissive bitch all right."
"Fuck me!" Nikki, on elbows and knees, pleaded. "Spank me. Hurt me!"
"Honey," Paul said, "by the time we're through with you today your sweet ass will be as red as your lipstick."
Paul's swinging, repetitive hand was beginning to bring pain with it. Not the erotic sort but true-blue excruciating pain. Nikki loved it.
Paul--his partner Roger, that is, twenty minutes later--was now shooting his second load up Nikki's ass. More than that, with each forward thrust he was forcing four loads of commingled cum out of Nikki's dilated, dark hole. And it was oozing out and running slowly down her crack to her clumped little balls and from there dripping to the well-used sheets. Which most definitely need changing now.
Roger was bigger than his partner and more vocal in his orgasms. As, it turned out, was Nikki. Who as Roger came in him, massaging over and over his prostate, shot--streaked--his own second load toward the pillows he stared down at. "Oh!"
One drink later--one for the road--Roger came forward and put his hands on Nikki's waist. She'd pulled a slinky stretch mini on over her fem underwear. One that barely covered her crotch. Roger kissed Nikki on the painted lips. They necked, their tongues sliding side by side. Roger's hands lowered to Nikki's much-abused ass, turned red inside her pantyhose.
"Darling, when can you come back?" he said, having broken off the passionate kiss. Paul stood behind his partner, also naked, and drooping, but looking slightly pissed. Left out of the equation.
Nikki pushed a blonde curl away from her cheek, her ruby-red lips. "Next Saturday?"
Roger planted another kiss. "That would be great, hon. We'll save up till then. And fuck your brains out again."
"Darling," a displaced Paul added, coming forward and giving Nikki's sore red ass a final squeeze.
Nikki settled into her car's bucket seat feeling, faintly, the tampon up her ass. Which was raw and sore, but pleasingly so. Roger and Paul had hinted they'd tie her up next time. That would be fun! A Dom, a few years ago, had once led her naked out in the woods and tied her, in a clearing, to a tree. After whipping her ass seemingly endlessly with a branch stripped of its leaves (though not his nubs) he'd come up behind her, and parted her cheeks.
And entered her. And cum. His semen dripping out much as it had today, with Paul and Roger, the second time around.
Nikki was quite pleased with how things had turned out. She now had a pair of lovers. She was their bottom. They liked her. They wanted her back. They were both horny (albeit artificially) and wanted to fuck her. Week in, week out it seemed. Fuck her, maybe tie her up and abuse her. A pair of Doms this time. How lucky could you get?
Meanwhile, up her well-worn ass, a tampon was absorbing their loads of cum. When she got home she would extract it and put it in her mouth and suck on it. And luxuriate in the slightly fecal taste of her new lovers' cum? The combined sweetness.
How great was this? How lucky to have met them? Two horny tops whose bottom had died, apparently. Or left them. Unexpectedly.
Know what? Maybe, instead, she would run an ad offering, tonight, as a crossdresser, to suck a guy's cock. Maybe she'd get a taker or two.
Or given her erection inside her panties, under her little short dress, they'd do 69 together.
Roger's drug had made her uncontrollably horny again. What was in it? What if she could take it straight from the tap tonight? Sweet sperm shot into her mouth. Once, twice? Three times? It was still early. Late afternoon. Possibilities: endless.
And men--did they not?--love wannabe shemales?
Maybe--ideally--one would even want to shoot his load up Nikki's ass.
Even while he waited for replies Nick--Nikki--emailed his new friends. Roger and Paul. "Hope you liked me," she said. "Can't wait to bottom for you two again. I'll be your `exclusive,' please be assured of that, my darlings."
Nikki waited. The doorbell rang. She adjusted her wig in the vestibule mirror. The night was just beginning...