Date: Mon, 05 Sep 2005 06:09:53 +0000
From: Sissy Boy <sissy_boy@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Pub Lunch With Creamy Dessert (TV)

Pub Lunch With Creamy Dessert

By Sissy Boy Dave

Hello all. I have recently discovered this site and thought you might like
to hear what happened to me, a while ago now.

I am Dave, a 45 year old cross-dresser living in the UK. Although I remain
in the closet I have discovered there's a wealth of wonderful bargains to be
found in the local charity shops. Therefore I have become a shopping diva,
boldly buying up any ladieswear and accessories I fancy. The elderly ladies
who tend to staff these shops are always very friendly and appear more than
happy to make any sale. So apart from the great value for money, it's
usually a fun, relaxed experience. I'm not so brave that I ever try anything
on in the changing rooms but everything is so cheap, it doesn't matter if I
occasionally get something which is a poor fit. If I do ever make mistakes I
tend to donate them back for some other lucky girl to find.

One time I was out of town and popped into one of these shops. With no fear
of running into anyone who knows me I allowed myself a long, leisurely
browse through the ladieswear rails. I had discovered heaven. I couldn't
believe the array of assorted silky, sheer, satiny dresses, skirts and tops.
All the feminine delights which caused me to become a cross-dresser in the
first place and all in my size! I even found a couple of pretty, lacy full
slips and a pink silky nightie in the lingerie section. (I ADORE slips and
nighties.) Following my initial browsing I almost paniced for fear that
another shopper may spy MY goodies. So I greedily grabbed at least fifteen
delicious items and eventually struggled to the counter. It was so funny. As
I laid them on the counter, gravity and slinkiness combined in an effort to
slide all my new treasures onto the floor. The lady and I had to struggle to
keep control of all the lovely things as she rang up the sales. On this
occasion the assistant was a younger lady, about my age and I wondered how
she might react. I needn't have worried, she was very professional. More
than that, as she held up and carefully folded each item before placing them
in a bag for me, she was smiling and commenting on how pretty everything
was. I was positively glowing that she approved of my purchases. I'm not
even the least bit camp but I did enthusiastically agree, never saying they
were for me but of course she knew the truth. (Perhaps I should have asked
for her phone number but I wasn't bold enough for that.) I didn't care about
the long queue forming behind me or what the other shoppers may have
thought. As much as I enjoy wearing the clothes, the moment of purchase,
when they become MINE, is always such an indescribable thrill. It's not even
sexual, just pure joy. I'm sure this must be how real women feel when buying
pretty clothes.

Anyway I am digressing. It was about a year ago when I was in a local shop
and I noticed a lingerie item which I've always wanted but never been able
to find, even online. It was a baby pink, light control, shiny lycra,
all-in-one corselette with four shiny, detachable, ribbon covered, metal
clip suspenders. (For my American friends, you may know this style of
garment better as a body-briefer?) This was not some sturdy foundation your
granny might wear. Everything about it was absolutely darling, cute and
girlie. It had half-lace, half-satin, soft stretch cups with a dainty bow in
the centre of the bustline, shiny narrow shoulder straps with front metal
adjusters, a smooth tummy panel and exquisite stretch lace on the front of
the hi-cut leg openings. The adjustable crotch fastened with two rows of
three metal hook and eye closures. Being an older style garment, probably
1980s vintage, it had a full back too. I like my bottom to be constantly
caressed by silky nylon so modern thong styles just don't do it for me.
Better yet, despite the fact there was no original tag, I could tell from
it's pristine condition it was unworn old stock. The only question remaining
was the size. It appeared rather small but as I looked inside I was thrilled
to discover the label which said 36A. I also noted it was a Marks and
Spencer creation! (No wonder it was such a beautiful design and made from
such high quality fabric.) I am very slim so normally take a 36B in bras,
using my silicone breast forms to fill them out. However due to the stretch
of the corselette I knew it would fit and hug me all over, including my
chest, without the need for false boobs. I adore the feeling of bra cups
against my skin, even if it leaves me looking like a flat-chested little
girl! I checked the item once more for any flaws or missing suspender
ribbons but it was absolutely perfect. I was so excited I took it straight
to the sales lady without browsing any further. I paid the ludicrously low
price of three pounds fifty and scampered home to try it on. I live a short
distance from the town centre so was home within a few minutes.

Once in my bedroom I stripped completely. As always, when getting dressed en
femme, I squirted myself with a little body spray. Rimmel Magical as I
recall. Then I stepped into my yummy new item and luxuriated in the feeling
as I slid it up my smooth legs. I was so glad I had freshly shaved my entire
body the previous night. I tucked my male parts as far back as I could and
quickly drew the pantie section of the corselette up to restrain and smooth
away any unwelcome bulges. I stretched and smoothed the rest of the heavenly
pink garment up my body until I could slip my arms through the shoulder
straps. I didn't even need to adjust them. It was the perfect fit I had
hoped for. I felt so hugged and snuggly with the thin lycra stretching
tightly but lightly around my torso. I looked in the mirror. Oh, even I had
to admit, I looked cute and adorable!

Of course there was still the small matter of the shiny, dainty suspenders
tickling my thighs to attend to. I opened a new pair of jet black 10 denier
stockings and took my time, teasing the soft nylon up my legs. I fastened
the suspender clips, taking special care to arrange the shimmering ribbons
neatly inside and outside each clip. I stepped into a pair of three inch
stiletto heels and took another look in the mirror. Wow, my legs looked so
feminine, just like my body! Of course I felt sexy and gorgeous as I paraded
in the mirror for a while. Every step brought delicious shivers of delight
as my new lingerie and stockings stretched slightly, caressing my skin,
especially the tight confines of my intimate places. I always tuck and feel
so special with my sex organs cossetted in exactly the same place as a real
girl. However the nice thing with me is that when I'm wearing what I
consider to be my best lingerie, my male parts are strangely respectful of
their joyous, beautiful, feminine surroundings. Ok, on this occasion they
were tightly tucked away but even in looser-fitting 'best' panties my
private parts tend to remain soft and 'polite'. I'm very lucky that way
because it I don't like to make a mess or even leak pre-cum into my
favourite pretties. Naturally I do have lesser quality silkies, for when I
need to find sticky release but I love for my crotch to appear as feminine
as possible. I particularly like the feeling when my balls pop back inside
their body cavities and my maleness is totally hidden. I don't know if that
makes me a sissy. I kind of suspect so. Anyway, this particular day my body
and pelvic area looked totally authentic. With the full length mirror angled
to cut off my male face, I could almost believe there was a sexy young woman
in the room with me.

I could have spent the rest of the morning playing dress-up, enjoying the
sensual thrill of my silky slips, skirts, blouses and dresses gliding over
my stunning new foundation garment. However I only ever dress fully after
dark, when anything seems possible.  Also it was getting near lunchtime and
I was feeling very pleased with myself. I wanted to celebrate my newly
found, beautiful bargain. So I decided to treat myself to a pub lunch back
in town, while remaining dressed in my gorgeous undies.
I slipped out of my high heels and donned a pair of thin black nylon ankle
socks. They are menswear but made in Italy and so much finer than my normal
socks. I knew they wouldn't snag or damage my stockings. Similarly I found a
pair of loose-fitting, dark green, lightweight cotton trousers. I thought
there was a slight possibility my rear suspender clips might be visible when
walking but that just added a little excitement to the adventure. For my top
I chose a cream t-shirt. Obviously there was a danger the shoulder straps of
my corselette may show through so, with it being a mild day, I also wore a
lightweight, sleeveless jacket, unzipped. After checking myself in the
mirror I was satisfied that the lacy cups of my corselette were flat and
invisible through the t-shirt.

I left my house and began the walk into town. Although I was now wearing
trainers on my feet, I was instantly aware that my corselette and especially
my tightly tucked privates were causing me to walk with a more feminine gait
than usual. Far from being worried, I positively enjoyed the thrill of
knowing I may have been giving a slight clue about my little secret. Again
it was lovely, feeling the gentle stretching and teasing of my beautiful
undergarments, especially with the light fabric of my trousers drifting over
my stockings. It was even more exciting when I put my hands in my trouser
pockets and felt the satiny smoothness of my suspenders through the thin
cotton. The short walk was uneventful but thrilling all the same. There were
very few people around to notice my semi-mincing footsteps. I was very
careful crossing the roads though. I certainly didn't want to pay a visit to
the hospital emergency room dressed as I was and of course I would have
hated to ladder a new pair of stockings!

Once in town I was feeling confident and a little bit naughty so I allowed
my jacket to flap open now and again. The high street was very busy but I
was sure no one would be paying me close enough attention to notice anything
out of the ordinary. I was just having a little fun with myself.
After a while I entered a pub I'd been to a couple of times before. I
ordered a pint of beer, a light lunch and sat down at a low table on an
equally low stool. There were a few other folk in there but no one sitting
close to me. However I was feeling a little more self-conscious. Now I was
seated, my jacket kept falling open. I nervously checked my chest and
noticed that in this position the centre bow and lacy edges of my
corselette's cups were creating a slight tell-tale effect through my
t-shirt. So I fiddled with my jacket to keep my chest covered. Also the
formerly loose-fitting trousers were now quite tight on my thighs. The tabs
of my suspenders were producing a definite bump through the thin material
but with no one around I didn't worry too much.

The meal was very good but the beer was even nicer. I had a taste for it.
So, still celebrating my earlier shopping success, after I'd finished eating
I went back to the bar for another pint. When I returned to my seat a chap
was sitting at the next table, diagonally opposite to me. Now, I'm a
friendly kind of chap and so was he. Before long we had struck up a casual
conversation. I was even more concerned about my lacy secret now and
continually adjusted my jacket. I wondered about the little bumps on my
thighs too but didn't dare look down for fear of leading his gaze there.
>From where he was sitting he could have easily seen the outline of the
suspender clips if he looked close enough. After another minute or two of
chatting he introduced himself as John and offered me a hand shake. We were
almost sat close enough for that but it did mean I had to lean forward a
little. I felt my jacket gape open as I shook his hand. We maintained eye
contact so I was sure I hadn't been rumbled. However I was quite clumsy in
my haste to grab the jacket closed again. A minute later he asked me for a
light. I produced my lighter and should have just given it to him but he
leaned foward for me to light his ciggy. I also had to lean in and again
lost control of the jacket. This time, especially due to relative angles
involved, I was sure I saw his eyes drift past the tip of his ciggy and onto
my chest.

I was feeling even more nervous now. Also the beer was starting to go
through me. What with that and the fact my privates were tightly tucked and
getting tender, I excused myself to go to the toilet. As I left the table I
had to pass closer to John. Oh no, had he now smelled my delicate feminine
scent too? I had barely taken two steps when he didn't ask, he TOLD me he'd
get me another pint while I was gone. He knew what I was drinking. That had
been the topic of one of our conversations. We had also discussed the fact
neither of us had to work that afternoon. How could I refuse? I thanked him
and tried to walk off in as manly a fashion as possible.
Due to the restrictive nature of my underwear there was no way I could stand
to pee so I had to use the single cubicle in the gents. I dropped my
trousers, sat and pulled the crotch of my corselette aside to allow my
squashed privates and my bladder relief. As I sat there gazing at my black
stockings and pretty pink suspenders I wondered what I was getting myself
into. I finished peeing, dried myself thoroughly and tucked everything back
in place. I re-adjusted my stockings before pulling my trousers back up and
tried to stretch my t-shirt out so it was a looser fit. It was probably too
late for that to make a difference now but it seemed the prudent thing to
do.

When I returned John was sitting as before except now with the fresh beers.
I noticed he was already some way down his second beer and hoped he didn't
make some wise crack about how long I had been in the toilet. He didn't, he
just smiled and we continued to chat about this and that. Everything seemed
fine, casual and relaxed like before. I was pretending to be relaxed anyway.
In fact the beer was helping with that. I stopped fiddling with my jacket
now that my t-shirt was not so tight. Before long it was my turn to offer
John a beer and he accepted. This time as I passed by him, and I'm not sure
if this was deliberate or not, his knee moved slightly to brush against my
leg. The contact was fleeting and light but it sent a delightful shiver
through me as my nylon coated leg received the brief caress. As I went to
the bar I was again nervously aware that my rear suspenders might be
noticable. Not only that but my jacket was rather short. Was I also
displaying a pantie line as I walked? While waiting to be served I looked in
the mirror behind the bar. John was definitely looking my way and possibly
checking-out my bum. Call it the effects of the beer or flattery but I
suddenly felt very naughty. I 'accidentally' dropped some loose change and
bent down to retrieve it, knowing for certain John would see my pantie line
and the outline of my suspenders. I immediately regretted my boldness and
couldn't bear to check the mirror again but was sure I could feel his eyes
lingering upon me. Trembling, I fetched the drinks, squeezed back past him
and sat back down again. That was when everything changed.

As we continued to talk I noticed John making what looked like an OK sign,
except his hand was overturned and held between his legs. I'd never seen
such a sign before. I suspected I knew what it meant but tried to ignore it.
However a couple of minutes later he made the gesture again and with his
eyes, directed me to look. This time it was more obvious. It looked like he
was waggling an invisible pole in front of his crotch. He was offering me
his cock!

I can't say I found John an attractive man because I don't fancy men at all.
He was about my age, well-built and quite masculine. He certainly didn't
strike me as gay, in fact he had been talking about his wife earlier.
Although I have never considered having sex with a man, truth to tell, I
have had a few meetings with other cross-dressers over the years. The urge
to have my own cock sucked sometimes becomes overwhelming and I've been
prepared to give in order to get. These have always been last-minute
decisions. It's not the fact of being dressed in women's clothes which makes
me so horny. It's when I apply lipstick my imagination runs riot and I
envisage my lips wrapped around a juicy cock. So yes, I have sucked a few
tranny cocks before but it's been a very seldom occurance. I particularly
like hosiery so stroking a pair of legs in stockings while I suckle a
clitty-cock is a large part of the fun for me. One thing I have discovered
is that I actually like the sensation of a cock spurting in my mouth. I love
the taste of cum and especially the after-taste. It seems to remain for
hours, coating the inside of my mouth and serving to remind me what a nasty
little sissy I've been. It seems quite addictive too. Long after my lovers
have left I'll be savouring the taste and wishing for another helping.
Tasting my own is never the same. If it wasn't for my annoying gag reflex I
would suck and swallow a 'sister' much more often.

So when John made his obscene gesture, despite the taste of beer and
cigarettes in my mouth, I experienced a sudden flavour flashback to the last
time I tasted cum. Of course I was also more than a little tipsy by now. My
underclothes were screaming SISSY at me and I was sure John had figured out
my secret. He may have been all man but that meant he had what I wanted,
CUM. So I blushed furiously as I nodded and mouthed a silent "Ok." to him.
He smiled and moved to sit beside me. The pub was almost empty by now and
the background music meant there was no chance of us being overheard. Even
so, we furtively whispered the arrangements to each other. I could have
brought him home with me but decided that was a little risky with a total
stranger. I had already noted that the toilet cubicle was fully enclosed
with a fairly heavy wooden door.

I wanted to get myself ready for him so asked him to meet me there three
minutes later. Just to make sure things didn't get out of hand I also
suggested a few ground rules. My heart was pounding and I could scarcely
believe what I was saying as I told him a blow job was all that was on
offer. He grinned and said that was fine with him but it was very much a
one-way deal. No way was he going to blow or even wank me. I said that was
cool, I just wanted to suck. I also told him how I'm not very experienced
and mentioned my tendency to gag on big cocks, so asked him to let me
control the pace, in order that we might both enjoy it. Again he was happy
with that but he secured my promise that I would swallow.

I couldn't look him in the eye and I felt like such a slut when I whispered
in his ear,

"Of course. That's the best bit."

I also asked him for another couple of favours, to make it more fun for me.
Specifically that I would like him to verbally abuse me while I sucked him.
I noticed him raise an eyebrow as I suggested, "sissy slut" would be a good
place to start. He agreed but made his own demand, no kissing.

With all the preliminaries out of the way there was no more to be said so I
headed off to the cubicle in the Gents. Luckily it was empty so I went
inside and bolted the door. I quickly removed all my outer clothes and hung
them on the hook on the back of the door. I adjusted my stockings, pulled my
tiny natural boobs up into the cups of my corselette, sat down with my knees
together and waited. My tucked cock remained soft but I was excited and
nervous all at once. My only regrets were that I wasn't wearing a nice pair
of heels and especially that I didn't have any lipstick with me. I licked my
lips to at least give them a glossy sheen. Moments later I heard the outer
door open and there was a light tap on the cubicle door.
John whispered,

"Dave?"

Remaining seated I undid the bolt and let him in. With the door securely
closed again I looked up into his eyes and asked,

"Hope you like my undies? I just bought them today."

He chuckled out loud,

"Bloody hell. I didn't know you were a tranny. Just thought you were gay."

He gave my smooth feminine frame the once-over.

"Mmm, nice though."

"Damn it." I thought. I know I'm not the most masculine guy in the world but
I had no idea I 'looked' or otherwise gave the impression of being gay. No
disrespect to any gay readers intended here but I felt doubly humiliated by
his words and the fact I had got myself into this situation on a false
premise, all of my own making. However his brief attempt at flattery did
give me a warm little glow.

John took charge of matters now. He reached down, fondled my tiny titties
through the satiny, lacy cups and said,

"Well, sissy slut, let's get on with it."

I hurriedly unfastened his belt, top button and unzipped his fly, letting
his trousers fall to the ground. His erection was already growing as I ran
my hand up from his balls to the top of his cock and hooked my fingers into
the waistband of his boxer shorts. I pulled them out and down, freeing his
manhood in one swift motion.
He had me sit forward and spread my legs so he could get closer. He urged me
to rub my stockinged thighs up and down his naked legs. That was so nice for
me too. Rather than allowing my male parts to escape, the motion caused a
tightening in my crotch panel and I felt even more restricted and 'feminine'
down there.

I leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the very top of his cock. Then I
wrapped my fingers around the head as I pulled his foreskin back. I slowly
licked and kissed down his shaft until my tongue was probing his hairy
balls. This was a new experience for me. My previous lovers had all been
shaved down there. I didn't like the strong man smell as it invaded my
nostrils but I inhaled deeply to get used to it and took each of his balls
in turn into my mouth. He moaned his approval as I licked and sucked.
He was rock hard by now and I was surprised but thrilled to discover he was
not well endowed at all. No more than four inches fully erect. My lips
returned to his purple, swollen cock head and I devoured him all, in one
long slow suck.
He gasped,

"Oh you fucking sissy bitch. That's so good. My wife never does this."

I slowly slid my lips up and down his throbbing pole while licking the
tender underside of his thick blue vein. I looked up into his eyes, so he
could see his shaft sliding in and out of my mouth and to show him how much
I liked sucking his cock. His hands gently rested on my head as I quickened
the pace. With one hand I softly cupped and squeezed his swinging balls. I
ran my other hand all over my corselette then up and down my stockinged
thighs as I continued to rub them up against John's powerful legs. After a
few minutes I released him from my mouth and he groaned in frustration.
However despite my earlier reticence I wanted him in control now. I took his
cock in my hand and flicked my tongue around and under his glowing glans.
Then I grabbed both his hands, placed them on the back of my head, looked up
at him again and said,

"Please fuck my mouth."

He didn't need telling twice. I formed an "O" with my lips, in my best mimic
of a blow-up doll and he pulled me forward, roughly plunging his cock into
my mouth. He then began a rhythmic reaming of my warm, wet hole. His speed
increased and his balls started slapping into my chin as I let him use me.
All the time he called me names.

"Fucking slut, sissy whore, cock-sucking pansy bitch."

His words were like music to my ears. I was really getting into it and was
far from passive as I continued to suck and noisily slurp with every stroke.
His fucking of my mouth was becoming wilder and more abandoned. I sensed he
would cum soon so I grabbed his bum and sucked him hard, breaking his rhythm
while I held him deep within my mouth. With my nose firmly squashed into his
tummy I sent a deep hum of satisfaction from my throat, providing vibration
directly to the heart of his hot man-meat. John gasped as I sucked back up
his shaft to again lick and swirl my tongue around his twitching cock head.
I felt him tense a little as he forcefully pulled my hair and impaled me
again. With his cock firmly in my mouth he set up an urgent rocking motion.
Seconds later I felt his cock head grow and pulse in my mouth, once, twice,
then the first jet of his cum spurted directly into my throat.

"Ohhhh yes, ohhhh, yes, yes, that's it, that's a good girl."
(This was one of my earlier requests, that he call me a good girl when he
came.)

He continued slowly and masterfully fucking me as wave after wave of that
fabulous, familiar flavour flooded into my mouth. I gulped and swallowed,
almost gagging on his sticky flow but there was just too much of it. I had
to pull back, allowing his spewing cock to spring free with a loud, wet
"plop" as it exited my lips. He groaned as he shot another load of cum up
into my hair. Then another warm jet splashed over my cheek and I too moaned
in pleasure. I didn't want to waste any more of the creamy treat I'd worked
so hard to earn so I quickly grabbed his shaft and noisily sucked it back
into my mouth. Again, I hungrily gulped and swallowed all he had to offer.
John's legs were trembling against mine as he continued to cum.
His spasms finally slowed in my mouth and with one final spurt he groaned,

"Mmmm, mmmm, you sissy-boy slut."

I continued to suck but he pulled me off his now tender, softening cock. He
then wiped it around my face, urging me to lick up the last of his sticky
residue which I did gladly.

He grinned down at me, saying,

"That was fantastic, you fucking dirty, cock-sucking sissy girl."

I smiled back at him as I felt the pearly drops dribble from my chin, onto
my corselette and stocking tops. So much for me liking to keep my best
lingerie nice and clean. This set had been well and truly christened. I
scooped up the remaining cum from my face and made a show of feeding myself
the last of his cream. I licked my cum-soaked lips in as slutty a manner as
possible and not forgetting my manners I said,

"Thank you for cumming in my mouth sir."

John quickly pulled his clothes up from the floor and winked as he said,

"Meet me here next week sissy, same time."

"Yes." I replied meekly.

With that he unbolted the door and left. I quickly closed the door again and
just sat there for a moment, reeling from the experience but loving the
taste in my mouth.
God knows what sort of mess I must have looked. I didn't want to get wet
patches on my outer clothes so I rubbed the last globs of his sticky cum
over and into my corselette and stockings. That felt like such a slutty
thing to do. Of course I felt even sluttier knowing that I'd just
successfully given a great blow-job and to a man's man at that!
I dried my face with toilet paper, put my male clothes back on and left the
cubicle. Luckily the toilet was still empty because as I checked myself in
the mirror I saw the large patch of John's cum clinging to my hair. I combed
it through with my fingers, washed my hands and went home.

Once there I went straight to my bedroom and stripped off my male clothes
again. The taste of cum in my mouth had me feeling really horny. I laid down
on my bed and unsnapped the crotch of my corselette with the suspenders and
stockings maintaining the overall shape of my delicious undies. My cock was
so happy to be freed from the tight garment, it rapidly became fully
engorged.
With my beautiful lingerie already being despoiled by John's cum I decided
to allow myself the luxury of stroking myself to orgasm. While wanking
myself off I re-lived every glorious moment from just minutes earlier. I
used my thumb and fingers to fuck my mouth as I leisurely stroked my cock
and rasped my jet black stockings together. Eventually I worked myself up
into a frenzy and shot my hot, sticky cum all over the front of my beautiful
pink lingerie. I scooped some into my mouth, to mix with John's, then wildly
spread more of my jetting goo over my silky smooth satin tummy and lacy
tits. When I was finally spent I wiped my hands on my stocking tops and
drifted off to enjoy a boozy, satisfied nap.
I awoke an hour or two later. Seeing the dried-on cummy mess and tasting
that gorgeous taste in my mouth again, my cock immediately sprang to
attention. This time I grabbed a pair of white, lace-trimmed silky nylon
panties from my drawer and quickly wanked myself into them. When I'd
drenched them with another helping of cum I stuffed them into my mouth and
savoured the flavour all over again.

Oh, I was such a cum-sucking sissy-boy that day.


Epilogue:

This all happened about a year ago. I never did go back to meet John the
following week. When I was fully sober I felt rather ashamed of myself and
as much as I enjoyed it at the time, I couldn't work up the courage to
repeat the performance.

However a couple of months later I did suck-off another hairy man. He was a
friend of a friend. Again, I was very drunk and as before, he didn't even
know I was a tranny. He just thought I might be up for it. On that occasion
I brought him home with me and asked if he minded if I wore pink stockings
and a pink chiffon nightie for the event. He said he wasn't bothered either
way but I wanted to be sissified so I dressed, with lipstick and pink fluffy
mules this time. I successfully sucked his cock and emptied his balls into
my mouth but it wasn't quite so much fun as with John.

Since then I've been lucky enough to be in a relationship with a real girl.
She was ok with me dressing but never seemed totally comfortable with it.
One thing I discovered is that I really enjoyed sucking her fingers and
toes. I suppose I just love sucking. At times I found myself thinking it was
a shame she didn't have a penis.

Anyway, that liason is finished now and I'm getting the strong urge to suck
again.
So I suspect I'll be sucking cock very soon.
I'll post the details of my next adventure here, as and when it happens.

Until then, keep it frilly :-)

If you'd like to tell me what you think of my true story please feel free to
write. However I am very busy with projects just now so please don't be
offended if I can't find the time to reply. Hope you understand?

Sucks and swallows,

Sissy Boy
xxxx

sissy_boy@hotmail.co.uk