Chatting on the internet allowed us to meet. The anonymity of the screen gave us the chance to explore what we couldn't have discussed face to face. Inhibitions lost in the technology we used. We became interested, curious. Tempted by the secrets shared between us. New ideas offered thrilled as our own thoughts hadn't. What we wanted to do to each other, in graphic detail. Late night cyber chats led to day time texts, then phone calls. Eventually, of course, we both felt we had to meet. In person. Real human contact. Suddenly the possibility that we might, actually might, do these things; fulfil these shared fantasies, was too wonderful an opportunity to ignore. Our meeting was arranged. The time and place agreed. A Hotel close by booked. A script decided upon. Excitement at the pleasures anticipated overcame our reservations.
On the day, I was late and you were already waiting at our rendezvous. Flushed and breathless from running, I walked over and introduced myself. You, being a perfect Gentleman, stood up and kissed my cheek. Then you smiled at me, looking pleased with what you saw. The spark of attraction was mutual. Yes! We had clicked. This would happen. My thrills of anticipation doubled. Flocks of butterflies took nervous wing inside my tummy. Calmly you took my bag from my suddenly nervous hand, and walked towards the Hotel. I followed as eagerly as puppy at your heels. As I stood gazing around, slightly awed by the magnificence of the lobby, you dealt with the formalities of the reception desk. Mr and Mrs. Double en-suite room. Signed forms and finally, keys given. Room number checked, you lead the way, carrying both of our overnight bags easily. Walking steadily straight ahead.Looking very much as if you belong here, that this is your natural environment. Marble floors and plush oriental rugs, gilded fittings and discrete decor have always meant home to you. Watching your immaculately tailored suit back makes me feel dowdy. Not quite suitably dressed. Ashamed of my plain neat dress and modest jacket. My shoe heels sound too loud on the hard floor but the carpets are so thick I fear to stumble. Too quickly we arrive at our door. A moments panic fills me. Taking a deep breath, I quell the instants urge to turn and run. Instead I step through the door behind you, closing it as I do.
As soon as we enter our Hotel room I unzip you. Reaching to unbutton your suit trousers, pulling them down.Taking your underclothes with them. I kneel at your feet, bending forward to lick the tip of your cock. You stand still and allow this. No words spoken, no other contact. Just me sucking the cock of my new sextoy. It's already hard and pleased to see me. Just a little lick, a taste. I stroke you, enjoying the feel of your skin, then grasp your rigid manhood. Gently and slowly I wank you. Just for a moment. Slide my hand between your legs, up between your buttocks, brush against your tight new fuck hole. You gasp with pleasure. Shock. Fear of knowing how soon it will be violated. Carefully I remove all of your clothes, leaving you naked and vulnerable before me. I casually drop my jacket and strip off my own dress, revealing myself to you. Standing in my red basque, matching panties, sheer black stockings. Black high heel shoes. My finger nails and lips coloured the same shades of red. I lick them shiny as they slightly open with lust when I gaze at you. The only sound our breathing. I carefully touch your skin. A painted finger tip trails along your arm, across your chest. Pausing to circle, but not touch, your peaked nipples.
"I shall redress you as my sex slut Bitchboy," you quiver slightly at my order.
Sheer stockings with lace tops are carefully unrolled up each of your legs. A suspender belt of white lace fitted around your waist, then attached to your stockings. Pretty white girlie panties; see through and soft, clinging to the outline of your hard-on within are eased on next. I play a little; amusing myself by stroking and kissing you. You ask nicely if you may be allowed to fondle my breasts. Wanting to touch my nipples. "Kiss them perhaps?" You beseech softly, hopefully. I nod to permit this. Shaking hands tenderly reach for my tingling breasts. Lifting one easily from it's lacy cradle. Allowing you to reach it's hard rosy peak and nuzzle it. Suckle from me. Take the swollen teat into your mouth and flick the tip with your cool tongue. As your breathing quickens and catches, I move away, pulling myself from your mouths grasp. A small disappointed moan escapes you.
"On with the rest of your outfit," you're told. I lick, kiss and suck your nipples before we cover them in their bra, leaving them wanting more contact. The pvc is cold. Clammy against your warm skin.The fake implants slipped inside to fill the cups. Giving you an almsot believable bust. Adding finally the blonde wig. It needs brushing. Leading you by the hand, I take you to sit in front of a mirror. I press my full breasts to your back as I lean against you, gently straightening your new shoulder length waves with a hair brush from the dressing table. Smiling into your startled eyes through the glass. A little make-up for you. Lipstick - sweet pearly pink, then black mascara; framing your sparkling blue eyes. "I want my Bitchboy to be pretty for me." I tell your reflection, smearing blue cream eye shadow across each of your lids in turn. White glossy high heel shoes are placed on the floor before you, for you to step into.
