Date: Mon, 19 Apr 2010 23:01:46 +0100
From: tina foster <tinafosteruk@gmail.com>
Subject: Fan Friction TS/Authoritarian

By Reading this, you acknowledge that it's intended for adults only, like
the rest of the work of tinafosteruk@gmail.com

If you're not old enough to read this, "why are you here?? Go away..."  To
those who enjoy reading these, thank you for your attention. It's
appreciated. Do get in touch. I like the feedback.

***********

Getting the few fan letters I've had from my stories, both true, fiction
and, somewhere inbetween, I'd looked in my account, half-expecting to find
it empty of new messages, as usual; but there was one, waiting for me, from
a fella named Gregg.

Now Gregg had complimented me on my stories, and also added that he had
worked out where I lived, which I thought a tad spooky. But, I'd been
pleased enough by his ever-so flattering message, which I'd carried on
reading.

He was from an area of outer Liverpool, Bi and married, and thought I
sounded horny. Little did I know then, just what that email would lead to.

But, I had messaged him back, with a little bit of a tease: and, a
photograph.  And, although I'm not really passable, it's the wearing of
those clothes; wearing those pretty things, that gives me a sense of being
whole.

Well, that and I liked my hole to be filled. [**Grins**] And, for quite
awhile I'd thought I'd here no more from him.

Then one day, about a week after the first message, I got the second:
"sorry about that, Internet connection down. I liked the photo. Are you
still interested?"

`Was I still interested?' Well, how was that for an understatement?

I messaged him back, within seconds of finishin reading the message,
telling him `yes, I am,' and enclosing another pic`n then waited.

Well, I'd been left guessing what it was he didn't like, as a week passed,
and there was no response.

Then one morning in the autumn, as the leaves were just turning to a golden
brown, a letter dropped through the letterbox and, onto the welcome mat. I
knelt down and picking up the A5 size brown envelope I slit the sealed end
with a convenient wooden knife.

There was text, above and below a picture printed in the centre of the A5
size paper.  The photograph was a copy of the one I had sent to Gregg; yet
obviously, this had been printed out, in hard copy.

So, I began to read, more than a little concerned as to who had sent it:
and how did they get my address: `as you can see, I know where you
live. But that won't be a problem, if you do as I say.'

With my heart beating faster, through fear and arousal, I continued to read
on: `The wife is away this weekend and I want some fun. You're going to
meet me and I'm going to enjoy your body.'

I placed the letter down, as I got to the bit with the details about `where
and when' and picked up the envelope.
 Like the text inside, the address printed by a PC, so it was impossible to
decipher anything about the sender from its writing.

And for a good while, I paced the house, as I dealt with the ramifications
of all I'd read. I had no choice really, but do as I had been instructed.

I had plans; plans that entailed a train journey to Liverpool, to meet him
at Lime Street, to go back with him, if we got on, at the flat that
belonged to a friend of his, who was amenable to Gregg's dalliance's.

So come Friday night I'd hardly slept, so intent had been on finding the
right panties to wear over my on my freshly shaven body. Then come the
morning, my first action after getting washed and cleaning my asshole, was
to lube myself well, in preparation for the touch of my first lover in a
long while, I had hoped.

As it was, I hadn't had too long to wait. Gregg had met me at the station,
as he'd said he would. And, though he was not the most handsome guy I've
known, or who has fucked me, I had felt so damn horny, as he'd leaned out
of his car window, to look at me, his brown eyes staring deep into mine.

"You ready, Wendy?" he'd said with a smile and, I'd just grinned,
sheepishly.

`Ready?' I'd been so ready, if he didn't take me soon; I'd have gone
straight home, lubed myself up further and, fisted myself to oblivion.

As it was, I hadn't had to.

We'd got to his mates and, I'd got out, my bag of `pretty things' slung
over my shoulder, with more than a butterflies dancing in my stomach.

I'd so-wanted to please Gregg, `n show him that dressed en femme, I could
really please any desire he might conjure up.

Finally he had joined me at t he end of the drive-way and with a smile, he
had said to me, "She thinks I'm at the match, so we've got ages. Alright
for you, slut?"

Now it must be obvious to anyone who reads my stories just how much of a
slut Tina really can be. And, my time with Gregg would be no exception. Of
that I was sure.

"I'm definitely alight with that," I'd assured him, eyeing the bulge in his
trousers, which definitely promised more than a few interesting hours: or
so I secretly hoped.

He went to the bathroom first and, having had his pee, he poured us each a
stiff vodka and coke and then passing me my drink, Gregg looked at me and
said, "Cheers!"

We clinked glasses and I knocked mine back. I was nervous and although I
was feeling very horny, I was anxious about the coercion involved here,
there was just something so sweetly sordid about it all, something so very
exciting.

Then with his free hand Gregg caressed my face and said to me, "Go and get
changed. I want my first fuck, soon."

So I went to the bathroom to slip on the gear I'd brought with me, my
slut-outfit. `N first I rolled on a pair of slip-ons, worn with white
panties under a short pleated tartan skirt, then pulled on a white shirt
and staring into the wall mirror, checked `my look'.

And though I'd chosen not to use much make-up, I did make-up my lips, to
make them look kissable; and then I left the bathroom.

As I left the bathroom, hoping my outfit would please, I almost walked into
Gregg, who had been stood there, waiting for me.

"Thought you'd fallen down the toilet, you were so long..." he said to me,
standing back a little, a grin on his face a mile wide.

"I wanted to look nice, for you," I told him, toying with the hem of the
short tartan skirt as I spoke.

I couldn't help but wonder how my time with Gregg would play out. The
fellow had already intimated his needs; and mine did not seem to fit into
his plans, at all.

`But,' as long as he gets what he wants, he'll be okay I guess?' I'd
considered, as I followed him dutifully; and I'll swear down, my well-lubed
sphincter in anticipation of Tina being his whore.

"Shall I close the door?" I asked quietly, as Gregg finished undressing and
made himself comfortable in the middle of the large double bed, his right
hand quickly finding his erect, which stood proud, already leaking pre-cum.

He stopped what he was doing and, crossing his arms behind his head, looked
at me and said with a grin: "Yes, you do that. After all, I don't want my
whore running out on me. Now, do I?"

There was that word, again: `whore.' I was his whore and, liked the idea.

"Oh, I wouldn't do..." I began, only to be cut-off in mid-flow, with an
airy wave of his right-hand.

"Close the door, eh? Then press `play' on the CD player over there," he
instructed.

So, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the length of my short skirt
and, the hold-up's, I'd closed the door and pressed `play', as I'd been
told and turned back to face Gregg as The The opened up with, `Infect me,
with your love...'

"Now dance," he barked at me.

And though I don't dance, I'd made an effort, swinging my hips as I moved
to the music.

"Screw that!" He exclaimed, "I hope you're a better fuck than you are a
dancer."

I stopped danced, thoroughly humiliated by his words, looking down to my
toes. Gregg patted the side of the bed, to his right.

"C'mon," he told me, "come join me."

But, as I attempted to lie on the bed as if to cuddle him, Gregg snapped at
me, "Fuck that slut, what makes you think I want you holding me? Face the
window and away from me, whore!"

There was that word again; and deep inside, I rippled with pleasure.

I turned onto my left side, waiting to hear what he wanted of me next.

"That's better," he growled, "Now I don't have to see your face, as I fuck
your ass like a cunt..." And so saying, Gregg lifted the back of the skirt
over my buttocks.

"Perfect..." he drawled, as he began to spank my flesh; and boy, his hand
felt heavy, as he landed smack after smack, on my left buttock.

Finally he stopped and snarled at me, "Now get your panties off, I want to
get to your cunt..."

It was obvious what he thought of me, I mused. And, I slid the pretty
panties over my arse-cheeks, down my thighs, then off my long hose-clad
legs.

 `My cunt? Whore?' His words were getting me tremulous with my Need, to be
used.

"Now keep your leg up!" He instructed, slapping my left thigh, to
illustrate what he meant.

And obviously, I did as he bid, determined to be the willing whore he
wanted.

Raising my left leg and bracing it with my foot against my right knee, I
gave Gregg the access he wanted.

I hoped.

"Is that all right?" I asked, in a small timorous voice. It was well
apparent to me that the subbie-side of me had come to the fore; an, I lay
there, nipples hard and sphincter twitching with anticipation once more.

"It'll do," he murmured, as first one then two fingers entered my
thankfully well-lubed hole. He was widening me, readying my ass pussy for
the main event.

"Gonna fuck you well," he told me, his chest against my back, his lips just
inches away from my left ear.

And, though I wanted to touch myself, I didn't; after all I was there for
his satisfaction, not mine.

"Oh yes, please..." I moaned as those insistent fingers continued to drive
back and forth. And, all the while I could feel his six to seven inches of
real manhood pressed against the back of my thigh, half clad in hose.

`N he gripped my right shoulder, biting my left shoulder, pressing his body
against mine and, driving those fingers deeper, turning them inside me and
I groan loudly.

All of sudden he withdraws those fingers, leaving me empty and panting.

Gregg holds me and bites me again, pressing the head of his proud erection
against my tight lubed rosebud. And as he pulled me toward I pushed back
and my hole opened for him.

As I felt his length slide through my slippery sphincter the pressure
followed. He was bigger than I'd first thought: and I clutched the mattress
as I felt that fullness and, then Gregg was in me and he froze.

"You know what, slut...?" he whispered into my ear, his tone of voice
suddenly getting very mean: and the grip, he had on me got tighter: "I know
all about your dressing up... and, you being a horny sissy slut..."

He gripped my hips and slowly began to pump his length back and forth and,
I couldn't help but groan through my gritted teeth.

His thrusts got faster, as he spit out the words: "and right now, you're in
a room with a webcam and, everyone watching my page now has paid to watch
this. Heck, thaat's what the sites all about `ExposeTeeveeSluts.Com'!!"

Gregg's voice became exultant, as he fingers but into my flesh, as his
shaft seemed to get bigger, a moment, then I felt him cum, shooting his
seed deep inside my hole.

And humiliated as I was, I could feel that I was damp and sticky down in my
panties. I had cum myself.

Then I lay there, beneath him, our bodies sticky with sweat and the rest
and, I find myself wondering if my lipstick was smudged, and `would he kiss
me?'

I wanted to be, needed to be kissed: `Would he kiss me, or just fuck me?'