What am I?
written by:
Kristen S

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my continuing sexual saga. It leans a bit to the dark side. In a sense very dark - depending on how well your eyes have adjusted. I think it just jiggles the handle of a very very dark door - It is a handle I will continue to jiggle until it opens.

In other ways it is much lighter than some of my earlier entries. If you do not like it or want it dark, don't read it.

I feel bad when someone writes me to tell me how offended they were. It hurts. I mean, I like pain - but I don't want to hurt somebody else - unwillingly.

In some ways, it would help a great deal to at least read my last entry to really understand where I am coming from - but it is not necessary. This one stands on its own - but if you don't read it -- please note it took a long time for me to get to the place I am as this story begins.

What am I?

By Kristen Shigh

It became a 24 - 7 obsession. I guess I should just accept it. I am like that. Obsessive. That first female ejaculation set a blaze a forest fire of curiosity and desire.

What would it be like to have sex with a woman?

Could men cum like women?

What is gender?

Top? Bottom? Control? Domination? Alpha? Beta? Master? Slave? What did any of this have to do with Boy-Girl?

All of the hours I had spent fanaticizing about being used for sex, about being a slut, a whore, a hole, about being a total submissive, a fuck toy, the stories I had written Waiting for Mr. D and The Long Ride Home, the encounter a few months back of having sex with a number of men in one night, had not been for naught. It gave me insight and even confidence to know, if I ever encountered the reverse situation, what she, or he or it would want.

I wanted the reverse situation - to be on top. I wanted it badly. I thought about it night and day. Be careful what you wish for.

At first all of my alone time at home was spent wearing the new strap on. I "jacked off" regularly. I ejaculated. Yes, women can ejaculate. It may involved a little bit of piss - but it fucking happens. It is a life shuttering experience. Holy Fuck! I loved it.

My strap on was my new friend, my partner, my lover, me. I was obsessed. Not with a penis - or the thought of having one, but from a new-found center of power. And of course the female ejaculation. If you have never done it - ejaculated - cum like a boy - you have no idea how fucking incredible it is! It will drive you over the fucking wall and do what I was about to do.

I began to experiment with men's clothing. I would even bind my breasts with an ace bandage. I do not make a very convincing boy but I liked looking at myself in the mirror wearing a strap on. I have a nice athletic build, and very small breasts. (Have I mentioned that?) Wearing the strap on and looking at myself in the mirror made me fanaticize about being able to seduce a stranger into letting me fuck her.

I had not shared this desire with any of my friends and my imaginary partners ranged from vulnerable, lonely women to men who were equally awkward assuming a submissive role as me in this new dominant one.

I did not have actual sex with anyone for months. I have not written for months, But I began to eye lost, susceptible women like the Kristen I knew before all of this happened, and wonder what it would be like to totally dominate her - cock and all. I would see her some times - in out f the way places. Sometimes ya just know. I could spot a ‘Kristen' a mile away. Not often, but we are out there. Shy girls that really want to be thrown to the ground and fucked hard. I can't explain how you know, you just do. Now, certainly you can't just throw any one to the ground and fuck them you - HAVE to know. A Kristen is a tough nut to crack, but having been one myself, I imagined I would have an easier time.

I cut my hair, and let the henna grow out. I considered dying it black. My friends noticed the slow transformation, but I did not let them know of my secret longings - because I did not fully understand them myself. If I were simply a lesbian it would make things a whole lot easier. They would have accepted me. Some may have even slept with me. But I couldn't go there. Yet.

I began wearing ball caps at home at first, they made me horny. I looked at stupid porn and ‘jacked off.' I rarely fed my pussy, but of course a girl has needs every now and then.

I met a cute guy at a bar and I let him walk me home. He fucked me well. He came. I did not. It was not what I wanted. I didn't dare suggest I try my strap on. No way. I asked him to leave. I stroked myself after wards. That's what I wanted! I imagined him on his knees begging to suck my ‘cock.' I ejaculated. Holy fuck!

Out of doors, I started wearing my skirts less often and jeans more. Soon it was baggy jeans and then men's jeans. I bought a pair of black button flies. They made me horny. There is a big difference in the way they fit - there is a much bigger difference in the deviant delight you feel when you shop for them! Shopping for men's clothing is a major turn on.

Buying men's underwear, knowing you are going straight home and putting it on is fucking orgasmic. I mean the cashier probably doesn't think a thing - your just picking it up for your boyfriend - or W.T.F. your brother for that matter. AND you can not help it. No way. You are going straight home - ripping it open and putting it on. You are.

I liked the way the strap-on felt inside my new pants and they were baggy enough that I began to work up the nerve to wear it outdoors.

It took a while, but I did it. I HAD to. (After about 3 tries chickening out.) At first just to the store, the movie rental place, I got my driver's license renewed. I smiled a cock sure grin in the photo, but I never called attention to it. I am sure no one noticed. With each time I began to get more daring. I think I wanted to get caught. I wanted to do it for real, somewhere where I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. I am not ready for that yet. Maybe one day.

I choose a distant suburban shopping mall, during the day. No way, I would run into anyone I knew there. I don't know when the last time I was out of the house without any makeup, let alone in a ball cap, trousers and a strap on.

The dildo felt amazing on my thigh. I was eternally aware of its omnipresence. It gave me a swagger. I am not saying having a cock makes you ummm... cocky. But, I feel facing down your fears does. I developed a little strut and held my shoulders square as I walked. Still, not very convincing. At best I could pass for some fey boy trying to look tough.

Once I was inside the mall, I was unsure what to do - what shops to go into. I don't go to shopping malls in my normal life - so this was all new. I went with the cliché - a sporting goods store. Someone asked if they could help, I did not dare speak. My voice. I gave a grimaced nod ‘no' as if I knew exactly what I was doing. I looked at several shirts. All were either red flannel or shirts with sports team logos - I considered a western wear - but when I held it up and eyed myself in the mirror I saw Kristen, not Kris - as I was going to call myself. I looked like a cow girl. I blushed and left - quickly. I wanted to run away, but I knew I would never do this again if I did.

The black Jeans and Black T-shirt would just have to do. I kinda looked like a little effeminate Goth kid. I bought a chain wallet, and boots. I considered a tattoo. One step at a time. Perhaps that was the only convincing guy I could pull off. That's OK. There are women that like that. There has to be.

"If I could just fool one person, one time, be called sir." I thought. "I could go home ‘jack off' and be proud of myself for having gone through with it." I would never have to put myself through this again.

I really doubted I could like go all the way and fool some timid woman until it was too late and she would let me fuck her anyway. Fantasy. I wanted to touch myself in the worst way. But even worse, I wanted someone to touch me. I wanted to make someone touch me. I wanted to be the aggressor. I wanted to pick someone up. I wanted her to beg for it, then find out it is a dildo and beg for it harder. I was on fire.

Hell, I wanted all the clichés. I wanted to tie her up. Make her tell me she was my bitch. Make her beg for my "cock." Kris wanted all of the things Kristen used to fanaticize about being done to her. I wanted a willing fuck toy, a whore, a hole. Yes, I wanted to dominate but I think I would have settled for a kiss and a phone number.

I walked in a men's clothing store and nodded to the sales clerk. The place was nice. Expensive suits and such. I found a nice black collared shirt. It had kind of a masculine silky shine to it. Kristen would have looked at the tag to see what it was made of. I looked at the size - the smallest they had was a 15 1/2. What the hell is a 15? I wanted to hold it up to me to see if it fit, but that just seemed wrong some how. Why is that?

I saw some dressing rooms in the rear - which overwhelmed me with lust. (Have I mentioned how much dressing rooms have played into my sex life? In case I haven't: I have masturbated in dressing rooms before - but that was because I was told to. I took pictures of myself doing it. I was a sub doing as she was commanded. It remains one of the hottest things I ever did. But I was a sub then.)

I looked at myself in the mirror, and took a breath as I removed the black T I had been wearing. The bulge in my pants made me so randy I could scream! I watched myself in the mirror really trying to make the transition.. I removed the ace bandage I had wrapped around my breasts. I wanted to see what the shirt looked like with out it. My breasts are so damned small, I was sure I wouldn't need it.

Removing it made me a little self conscious - but, I love my tiny breasts - have I mentioned my small breasts very many times in previous entries? I don't think this was really about breasts or genatallia or sexual orientation at all. I just knew I wanted to fuck some vulnerable woman in the worst way.

"I will make this work," I told myself straight in the eye. I caressed them slightly. I couldn't help it. I even told them I loved them as I re-bound my breasts.

No one knew - OK, maybe no one in that store knew - or cared to know, I reached down to my crotch - it was there. The center of my power.

I was only trying on a shirt, but I could not help my self. I unbuttoned my pants and whipped out my cock. I had to. It was hard, and I wanted to see it. Just for a second. I was only separated by a thin curtain but I could not stop myself. Jesus, I was horny. If some fey boy had happened in on me at that moment I think I would have grabbed him by the hair and made him suck it right there!

I looked myself in the eye and gave it a few strokes before I made myself stuff it back in place. I could do this!

I understood in a new way why guys grab their crotch so often.

The shirt really seemed to work for me, even better with my breasts bound. I tried it tucked, un-tucked, I hoped no one noticed how long I had been in there. I slipped the T back on, and the collared shirt on top. That was it, black on black. The folds in the billowy fabric completely masked the fact that I had two small breasts hiding under there. I saw a man emerging that - just maybe - could fool someone - perhaps someone who wanted to be fooled. But where would I find her?

I removed the tags and carried them to the cashier and managed to make the transaction without so much as speaking a word. The salesman didn't think for a second that there was a scared little girl beneath those layers of black, ace bandage and a dildo. He called me sir. I nodded. I was hot! I adjusted my package. I was fucking hard!

I walked past a Victoria's Secret and thought for the first time not what silk teddies or lace panties would look like on me - but what they would look like on her - who ever ‘her' turned out to be. I caught my reflection in the window - and I did not see Kristen but Kris. But Kris looked like one of those faggots drooling at the lingerie. I blushed. I had to move on. I felt it. I knew it - why guys get so uncomfortable shopping for lingerie. I embodied it - it gave me confidence. I wanted a drink.

But where do you get a drink in a shopping mall at 4 in the afternoon?

I looked at the info-stand and saw I had three choices, a sports bar, a TJ Applebys and a Ruby Tuesday. They were all equally terrible - but at least I wouldn't see anyone I knew there. The Applebys was closest.

It was dark in there - aside from the ubiquitous glow of TV monitors running endless loops of sports reports. I was nervous, I knew if I wanted a drink I would have to say something - I was sure my voice would give me away. I searched my lower register and even rehearsed a second in the anteroom between the double doorways.

Nervous, but excited, I sauntered up to the bar. "Bud." It seemed like the easiest thing to say.

"Sure thing, pal."

I had gotten away with it. "Wow, that was easy." I had to go further. "And a Jameson's, neat."

"Yea, man."

He brought them with out fanfare or a second look. I had fooled him. Jesus, that made me hot. My cock was so hard I could fuck anything that walked. This acute appetite gave me a self confidence I had never had. Fueled by a little whiskey and a hard on - I was on the prowl! But, the only thing is, I HAVE NO IDEA, how to ummm... pick up chicks. Kristen's best pick up line was always, "OK."

Subs.

On top of that, I was in a god forsaken TJ Applebeys and afraid to speak because I was paranoid about my girly voice. It is amazing what hurdles you will be willing to leap when motivated by a hard cock.

I took solace in the fact that I have always figured that all types of people wanted sex, and all of the laws of subs and doms - alpha - beta apply to varying degrees with all people of all walks of life. Yin and Yang. So, even though I was not in my familiar pathetic little hipster scene, it is possible I could meet someone here - and fuck her - tonight - a one night stand.

Fuck, I was horny.

I am sure at any given time in any given place there is always someone who is just as desperate to get laid as you are. He or she may not match your ideal body type or personality or taste in clothing, art or whiskey but their sexual appetite is a perfect match.

I was thinking about this at the end of the bar staring mindlessly at the TV and nursing my second round when a waitress stumbled a bit as she carried a tray of food through the double doors. I had noticed her before but not really. Not really my body type. She was just slightly overweight and a bit disheveled. Clumsy, and let's face it no body looks good in a green apron.

I was at the end of the bar and was able to quickly grab her. I am not sure if I prevented her from falling but we made eye contact and she shuttered. I smiled at her as I asked, "You OK?"

She blushed. I recognized her immediately. It was Kristen.

I caressed her back as she regained her balance. She Flinched. It was Kristen. I wanted her. I would have her. She wanted it. She knew - that I knew. I could tell in an instant.

I asked the bartender if I could move my tab over to a table in her station. I seemed to have the voice fear conquered.

My young waitress trembled as she approached my table. We made direct eye contact - I saw through her - she through me, she stuttered something about a menu. "Yes, but you will join me for drinks when you get off, won't you."

"I, I, I can't drink here."

"I didn't say here - what time?" I knew I had to be direct and press it - I could not let up.

"8:00, after the dinner rush."

"I will be here at 7:59, you will be out of that uniform, Yes?

"ummm..."

"don't hesitate, say yes."

"Yes."

"Good girl."

She was trembling and pale. "that's a good girl," I said as I left a few bucks on the table. And walked crisply away.

"You don't even know my name." she hollered as I walked. "It's on your name tag." I replied as I disappeared from the darkened doors. "7:59."

Outside the bar - back into the fluorescence of a fucking shopping mall, my brain forgave the horrible ambiance as I processed what the fuck had just happened. "She FUCKING SAID YES!" I was getting laid, tonight! No doubt about it. It was Kristen. We are everywhere.

I needed another drink and a place to hide out for a couple of hours. Also, by this point I really had to pee.

At the Ruby Tuesday I ordered another beer. I figured I had better lay off the brown liquor - I was already starting to feel drunk. Drunk and horny as a mutha-fuka - and that bitch wanted me. Holy Cow, I was starting to think like a guy. Jesus!

The bartender brought me my beer. I couldn't help but check him out - he was kinda hot. "Stop it, Kristen. Damn it. And for Cripe's sake, find your voice." I was all over the place in my little noggin.

"Bud, right?"

"Yea, at's me. So, uhh.. Hey, man where's the can?"

"Right around the corner there."

He had pointed to the men's room. Holy fuck! I nodded.

I gave it my best swagger, but perhaps a bit of a stagger. Three beers, two Jameson's on an empty stomach. As I approached the door with cute little blue dress-less stick figure hanging squarely in the middle I thought, "This is it. This is intentional." Everything else up that point, I could have justified in my head - somehow as a misunderstanding about my gender or even my sexuality - but this part - this was deliberate. There was no turning back."

I was scared and wound up. Frankly, I was confused, and awkward, and mostly horny as a - how did I say it before a Mutha Fuka!

There were several men in the room. None made eye contact. There was a long row of urinals, and several stalls with stainless steel stalls. Part of me wanted to saunter up to the urinal - but it was a physical impossibility, but fuck I wanted to. I wanted to pull out my cock in front of all of them - have some repressed faggot glance over to check me out and see I was holding a dildo, offer it to him. Make him suck my cock right there. Fantasy. I am so bad.

Instead, I darted for a stall and shut the door. I did not lock it. I think I wanted to get caught.

There were lots of buckles to address. It is all a little more cumbersome than you would think. I was afraid I was going to have to remove the harness completely so it was with great relief that I was able to pull the harness to one side. Holding the dildo in my hand while I sat, I worried about the sound. The tiniest noise reverberated off the tile walls like a megaphone. And let's face it - men and women just sound differently when they pee.

"I am way over thinking this, I told myself." But still I managed to make myself petrified. Pee shy. The sound of heavy foot steps and water faucets and flushing urinals echoed in my little noggin, but holding my cock was exhilarating. I was in a fucking Men's room! I gave it a few short strokes. I had to. I stared at the unlocked door half hoping the first blow job I was going to get would be from some queer in a bathroom stall. Holy fuck!

It was not to pass.

I had to hold the harness while I pee-ed or it would have slipped and made a huge mess. Paranoia, fear is wholly erotic! I gave it a couple of more stokes before I forced myself to stuff it back into position. I had to. I am obsessed.

Leaving the stall, I washed my hands and even nodded to some old man at the sink next to me. He never suspected a thing. I was hot!

Back at the bar, I nursed my beer and made a list of errands I had to run between now and 8:00...

...I think I arrived at about 5 till, and she was there waiting - sitting on the bench they use when there is a waiting list. She had on a cute little plaid wool skirt. I never thought plaid could be sexy - especially on an overweight girl but she was pulling it off. Or maybe I was insanely randy. She wore a modest white blouse that clung to her large breasts. Her thick reddish hair was unkempt and held back with plastic Barrettes. She had even made an attempt at applying some fresh make up. The girl could use a few tips. Over all she was quite a mess, but I fond something about her obvious vulnerabilities very sexy. She made the attempt to put on makeup. For me. That turned me on.

She sat on the bench by the entrance, patiently, tapping her foot and reading a trashy novel. Her eyes lit up beneath heavy eyeliner when I walked in the room. Fuck, I wanted to skip the drink and just take her home. But I guess it doesn't work that way.

The bar was fairly dark and we choose a back booth. I sat across from her and we ordered Guinness. I had another Jameson's and when it arrived I brushed my hand across her's as we toasted. She returned the caress and like a magnet I slipped over across the booth to sit next to her, My hand was on her thigh and her hand was on mine. We both knew what we wanted. I bought her hand over to my knee in the hopes she would voluntarily slide it up and feel the hard cock at my thigh. She was too shy. We made eye contact as our fingers explored each other's hands. I don't know whose heart was racing faster. "You have beautiful eyes, I told her." I am such a dufus. She blushed anyway.

I have been in her shoes, I doubted she had been in mine. I thought of the words I had always longed to hear, but no one - not one fucking guy has ever asked. Our eyes locked. I brought my hand up to caress her dimpled cheek. Her pouty full lips pursed. I took a breath. "Do you mind if I kiss you?"

"Oh, please," she moaned. The caress on her cheek stopped and changed its attitude. My thumb wrapped around her chin and I pulled her face to mine. Her eyes glossed over in fear - the kind of fear that ignites explosions of lust. Her moist lips, anxious to meet mine, opened in full summons to explore the wet sanctuary in side. It was amazing. I was kissing a girl! She had no idea of what I was hiding beneath a pair of boxers. I guided her hand from my knee up my thigh. She was more than willing to follow. Anxious.

I let her glance the warm phallus to feel the size and firmness. She breathed an uncertain yet pleasant whine. I adjusted my body - I did not want her to explore too thoroughly. I held her chin in my hand and caressed her whole body with the other. We kissed again and my hands explored her plump physique. She was open. Very open. My hands could not stand it any longer as they found their way to her large breasts. I wanted to feel them. I had to feel them. They were polar opposite of my own - I mean mine are lovely but I could see why so many men like large breasts. I was fucking on fire! She smiled at me as I touched them through her blouse. Her large nipples were reaching out to my touch. She too was on fire. I had made this fire! It was primal. Power.

We were in a bar after all - and I did not want to go too far too fast. I was just getting the lay of the land. Touch, explore. Caress, Tease. Honest hard fucking would come soon enough. Patience IS power.

My hands traced along the periphery of her body and up her arms to her shirt sleeves. As I slid my fingers inside her sleeve she twitched and then suddenly jerked away. A deep seated fear beamed from her eyes. A distant fear. A vulnerable fear. There, on her left shoulder just above the sleeve line, was a thick, three inch scar.

I knew exactly what it was. I have some like it. Tears formed in her eyes. She began to tremble. She had been found out. She wanted to be found out. She had been screaming to be found out - perhaps for years. It was Kristen. We are everywhere.

"Tell me about this." I asked politely.

Her tears dried immediately. Her posture shifted to a casual recline as she closed her eyes and stated very matter-of-factly, "Oh, I was in a minor car accident a few years ago and the window was rolled half way up and it..."

I stopped her mid sentence by kissing her. As we kissed I bit her lip to distract her while I reached in my trousers and adjusted the strap-on upwards. She moaned loudly as my teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She liked being bitten. Kristen does too. She was helpless. Immobile.

I looked around the room. No one was paying any attention to some feminine Goth kid and a fat chick. We were invisible.

"Look at me!" I demanded as I rolled her sleeve up her arm. There were four, maybe five more identical scars running up her shoulder. She made a half hearted attempt to stop me. The scars were parallel and thick. Her head turned to me. Tears were streaming from her face. She was shaking. She wanted me to fuck her. Badly. I knew. I have been there.

Even worse she wanted me to know what she is. Submissive. Wholly submissive. Submissive to the pain she applies to her self. Submissive to the lust that fills her head and her heart and her vagina. I know. I know.

My scars and her's -although in different places - are almost indistinguishable. Just long enough to not need stitches. She is so fucking hot!

I was once treated for depression by an acupuncturist. After going through all of the darkened room ritual, the gong, the incense, the soothing tone of the acupuncturist. I had my eyes closed and a frog hair thin needle was inserted in my right calf.

"OH MY GOD!" A tsunami of emotion rushed from every pour in my body. I began to shake the way Julia was shaking now. It was so bad they had to remove it and stop the treatment. They managed to pick a spot (perhaps a coincidence) that I had had a softball injury years ago. Everything poured out of me in an instant. Emotion, raw emotion burst through that pin prick. I cried for days straight. Emotion. Emotion is lust. It is sex. I was hopelessly aroused. Always. I masturbated on the way home. Days later I was still masturbating constantly, still crying. Always crying, and burying a large dildo in my pussy as if it could serve as a plug to stop these waves of raw emotion from pouring from my fragile frame.

Finally, naked, on the bathroom floor, in front of the full length mirror I had been fucking myself in front of, I placed a knife from the kitchen on the tile and continued to touch my self. As the blade pierced my flesh for the first time an intense orgasm swelled. I kicked my feet into the air. I rolled onto my back. I screamed in agony and pleasure. I had cut the same spot as the acupuncturist - right calf. I came in a way that has never been before or since paralleled. Pain. Passion. Lust.

I did not need stitches, but it was close. I told the doctor some BS about a low cabinet door handle. He showed me how to dress it, apply butterfly bandages. I wanted to suck his cock.

I cut myself several more times over the course of that summer between High-School and College. When I entered college I swore to myself I would never do that again. But I knew. I knew.

I ran my finger tips over the ridges of her scars like a washboard, slowly, as a gentile caress. She sobbed. I ran my fingertips up her neck line and through her thick matted hair to the base of her scalp. She was beginning to relax in new found comfort in the fact that I knew. She knew I knew. She knew that I knew -- that she knew. With out a word being spoken, our cards were on the table. A calmness beset the booth.

Neither of us really wanted calm.

In one sudden jerk I grabbed the roots of her hair and yanked her face to mine. We were eye to eye. She was pale, trembling crying, beyond aroused.

"You did this to your self, didn't you?" Slowly she managed to nod her head ‘yes.'

"Tell, Me!" I snapped.

She complied through her snot and tears. "Ya ya yes."

"Yes what?" I snarled malevolently.

"Yes s..s...sir."

"You touched yourself while you did it didn't you!"

"Yes, sir." She whimpered, eyes cast downward in shame. I held the her hair firmly, fully in control. I am sure I was as aroused as her. I have never had this much power before. It was freeing, electrifying. And the poor poor woman, I KNEW exactly where her buttons were and I was going to push every last one of them. It made me very very hard.

"You want to touch yourself right now, don't you?"

The expression on her face changed to a different kind of fear as her eyes darted around the crowded bar. "Don't look around the bar, you don't worry about anybody, but me. Now show me. Right here in this booth. Reach under you skirt and touch yourself. NOW."

She did so without hesitation. Her skirt flipped upward beneath the booth. Her breathing was heavy, erratic she moaned in short sharp gasps. She was going to cum instantly. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed as I whispered a whiskey soaked whisper. "You will not cum now, you will do so when I tell you to."

Her fingers stopped their rotation, but her breathing continued its random palpitations. She moaned and sobbed. Tremulous. Her jaw chattered. My hand and hers were still beneath her skirt - my hand squeezing her writ - her finger twitched on her trigger. I could feel the heat pouring from her pussy as I slowly caressed my way down her writs and hand. She was soaking, her fingers coated. I let my hot breath form murmured words into her ear. "Clean your hands for me, lick them clean." I grabbed her wrist again and helped to guide her sopping fingers to her mouth. She inhaled them, eager to please. "Enjoy it. Maybe the only reason I might stick my cock in that nasty hole of yours is to watch you like the pussy off of it." I am soooo bad. Her tongue explored the circumference of her fat wet fingers. Her legs still spread wide beneath the booth. Her skirt hiked exposing her pathetic cotton panties.

"You'd like to lick the pussy off my cock, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

She was good! "Say please, I demanded."

"Please, sir. Please fuck me so I can lick the pussy off your cock"

"Damn!" I thought. She's been here before. I had to take it further.

"You'd do anything for a taste of my cock, wouldn't you - you slut."

"Yes, Yes sir."

"Then slip your panties off right here in this booth and give them to me."

With out hesitation, she raised slightly and pulled them down over her knees. She raised her feet up under the table and leaned to the side. And then handed me the large garment.

"Good girl."

Now I am going to pay this tab at the bar and you will follow me out of here. - carrying these in your right hand." She closed her eyes in humiliation and nodded agreement...

Out of the bar and across the parking lot she stayed a few feet behind and to the right of me. Her head was slunk down in humiliation.

I walked round to the passenger side and inserted the key as she approached the car. I grabbed her by the neck and turned her face first against the car. She moaned with expectation I hiked her skirt up and shoved my hips against her. The Dildo pressed against her. She moaned helpless against the force of her own lust. Her moans turned to pleading, "Fuck me!" she begged. I knew I could do it when ever and how ever I wanted. FUCK, being on top is great!

"You are going to do what ever I tell you to do tonight aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, please fuck me."

"Get in the car you pathetic whore and maybe I will let you suck my cock." Kristen would have loved that. Julia did too.

I got in on the driver's side. It was dark. That was good. I put my arm around her and then up to her hair. She was crying. That turned me on! Her too. I know.

I unzipped my trousers and pulled it through the fly in my boxers as I kissed her. Our kisses were fiery and furious. Once I had it in place I bit her lip hard for good measure. She moaned a high pitched whine. I released and demanded, "Suck my cock you whore." As I jerked her to the waiting member. She had NO IDEA! She inhaled it quickly and begin to bob excitedly for a few seconds before she started to realize. The realization came slow and curious.

In one sudden jolt she stopped and tried to back it out of her mouth, as if to speak. I pushed it deep in her throat. I was totally fucking her face, like I had done to me so many fucking times. I was enjoying it like the guys that fucking stuff their cocks down your throat. Jesus how many times Kristen had that done to her - and how many times she came. Kristen is a whore.

Julia had stopped completely so I had to hold her head in place.

"That's right, bitch. It is a dildo. I am a chick, but suck it anyway you fucking dyke. Suck my fucking cock, till I cum in your mouth."

Her realization went from panic to exploration. She bobbed with a new since of urgency.

"Show me how muh you like it by taking that skirt off." She unzipped it from the rear and it fell to either side. I slipped my hand down to her sweetness. She was so wet!

I slipped my finger inside and she moaned with delight. I was so in control! I brought my wet fingers to her mouth and told her to lick them clean. "Show me how much you like pussy too, whore."

Her fingers found their way inside my jeans. I helped to guide her to my soaking pussy as I relished all the new power I had. I felt all of today's pent up sexual energy and frustration boiling over in my body. Some steam valve had to give! I thrust with my hips as her hand managed to get beneath the harness and flat against my sweet lips. I gasped, she gagged. I pushed a final thrust as a lightning bolt of thick natural lube was propelled with my urethra splattering warm slime into her hand. I had ejaculated. Holy Fuck!

My grip relaxed as I sighed a big breath.

Astonished she raised her head and hands. "What the fuck? How did you do that?" She mumbled at my crotch.

I said nothing, except to bring her hand up to her lips. I helped her clean her hands and we licked it from each other's face.

I zipped my pants, lit a cigarette and started the car headed for the motel I rented earlier in the evening. It was going to be a long night.

To be continued.