100 Novel(s) Related To Forced Crossdressing Stories

I still couldn't believe I had actually done it. Adrian walked beside me, already busy on a phone call, his attention fixed on whatever business was happening on the other end. I nervously adjusted the edge of my dress before touching the wig to make sure it was still sitting properly. Every few seconds, I wondered whether anyone could tell that the woman walking out of the courthouse was actually a man trying desperately not to look like one.

But as Marcus groaned against his mouth, a deep, desperate sound of pure, helpless possessiveness, Ethan’s resistance buckled completely. Ethan’s arms wrapped around Marcus’s neck, pulling him down harder. The fight vanished, replaced by a desperate, toxic explosion of heat. They scrambled at each other’s clothes in the dark, their fingers cold and clumsy against buttons and zippers. There were no gentle words, no quiet comfort. It was a secret, silent war fought inside the narrow walls of the tent, every touch heavy with the weight of everything they couldn't say out loud. Marcus wasn't sweet or gentle as he offered no words of comfort as he hastily put on a condom and rammed in to Ethan with a force that sent the shorter man trying to scramble away from a frustrated Marcus.

My freaking underwear! “What the hell!?” I yell, trying to cover my body with my arms, “Where’s, where’s my dress!?” He shrugged, making my blood boil, “Where’s my clothes!?” I snapped. “Left it at the boundary” he answered, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Why!?” “It was dirty and carried your pack’s scent” he said, “Now get dressed or do you want to meet the pack in your underwear?”

I told him about a threesome I had with a girl and her bff, in her parents' bed. We were constantly trying to one-up each other and tell our raunchiest stories. Just to add a little teasing, I told him about having a female pharmacist "measure" my cock when I bought condoms. After which I bought some Magnum-sized. He told me about a sex store employee "helping" him try out a new dildo. I told him about the first time a girl asked for anal. He told me about the first time he was fucked up the ass. We laughed about men and women not liking to give oral, but always expecting to receive it. I told him about the first time I rimmed a girl, and girls' almost universal reaction to being rimmed the first time. This brought us into a discussion on rimming which culminated in him admitting to never having the pleasure of receiving it. Which was crazy to me, considering what he and Donnie got up to most nights. But Chris was adamant that Donnie just wouldn't do it. Our one-up storytelling morphed into us asking and answering questions, the kinkier and raunchier the better. We weren't exactly tipsy or drunk, but we were definitely feeling a good buzz. As our questions progressed, I asked if he'd ever gone "full femboy," complete with makeup. He lit up, said that he had, and even announced that he had pictures. He then crawled over to me, sat in my lap, and took out his cell to find them. He scrolled through his pictures until he came across several pics of him with black eyeliner, blush, dark lipstick, and dark mascara. He had on a skimpy plaid short skirt, a dark colored cut-off t-shirt that left his belly button exposed, loafers, and a pair of white stockings. He looked adorable and I told him so. The pics showed that he was at a Halloween or some other costume party.

I didn’t care if the men were watching, I didn’t care if they saw me in the outfit but I was laying claims to what… WHO belonged to me. Overcome by lust, I pulled up her skirt and dipped three fingers into her wet pussy. The kiss broke and her haves tightened around me as a loud moan slipped out of her. “Finger fuck my wet snatch” she groaned, pumping her hips into my fingers while my movements became frantic. I looked over to find the men, now completely naked and stroking their semi erect dicks to our show. I couldn’t believe it, my fingers thrust faster while Miriam cried out for me to go deeper and faster, my eyes shifted from the men back to my wife who was a mess in my arms as I slipped in another finger with the three.

“Remember how you’d get all dressed up in barely anything under your clothes and we’d go to Coverts? We’d watch the other couples, get so turned on and fuck all night” I swallowed, my nipples tightening at the memory. I hadn’t thought about Coverts, the members-only swingers club, in years. Nathan and I were more watchers than swingers, watching everyone’s pleasure, which heightened our own. When we first began dating, we went often. Each time, we’d end up having some of the best sex of our lives.. We would role play or do some light kink. The last time we had gone to Coverts, Nathan was as fit as a horse. Or so we thought...

“Don’t mention the kidnapping lightly. I need answers. “Why did you transfer money to the kidnappers?” Harold and Margaret’s faces drained of color. Isolde laughed. She held my arm, eyes gleaming. “Your family really knows how to scheme. “Stage a kidnapping, cash in on a life-saving favor from Cassian, and shamelessly try to make him marry your disgusting daughter!” She covered her mouth to hide her grin. “Of course, I have no problem with second marriages in general, I just have a problem with one particular person.”

‎I had been surprised and taken aback when I saw how pretty and sexy she suddenly looked, especially when she wore those short dresses or skirts, or tight jeans. ‎I last saw my brother and his wife about ten years ago, at their wedding, before I went back to Spain. And ever since I returned from Spain for the Christmas holiday, and saw how sexy Anny looks even at thirty, I've been fantasizing about having sex with her, always imagining my cock pumping in and out of her pussy and her mouth. ‎ ‎After making sure my brother had left for work, I had purposely left my door wide open before going into the bathroom to have a shower, and came out completely naked. While I was in the bathroom, I had imagined how sexy Anny would look without any clothes on.

she begged, pushing back to meet him. And over by the staircase, a bisexual trio had formed a messy 69 chain, two women and a man tangled together. One woman lay on her back, the man eating her out while she sucked the other woman's clit. The second woman straddled the first's face, grinding down while reaching back to stroke the man's cock, fluids swapping everywhere in a slick, sloppy exchange of tongues and fingers.

" His plea only made me laugh. He wanted to use me as his scapegoat again? Did he really think I would be his fool for life? I crouched until our eyes were level. I gripped his chin tightly and whispered into his ear, "In our previous life, you and that woman drained me dry. And in this life, you want to suck me dry again? Patrick, do you really take me for an idiot?" His eyes widened in horror. "You... You're also..." "That's right," I sneered. "Just like you, I was reborn." Patrick shook his head frantically. "No... That's impossible! If you were reborn, then why didn't you buy this lottery ticket?"

Crossdresser has an out-of-body sexual experience. Enjoy.. ***** My name is Rich and I am a crossdresser. I would prefer to be a transgender, but at this point in my life--married with two grown kids and a grandchild--it's just not in the cards for me. That doesn't stop me from dreaming, however. Several years ago, my wife came home unexpectedly and caught me in my women's clothes. She freaked out and demanded that I get counseling. I truly love Meg, and in order to save our marriage, I agreed.

He was handsome as a man and stunning as a woman. Wide-eyed, Jasmine gazed at Larissa for a moment. She took a deep breath and sincerely said, "Larry, you look beautiful even in women's clothing!" So, it was just cross-dressing? This showed that Larry was unconventional, carefree, and had character. It was totally fine for him to cross-dress! Larissa was puzzled. "Huh?" She was no longer deliberately imitating a male voice but spoke in her original voice. Jasmine was stunned when she heard Larissa speak.

I screamed around the one in my mouth—muffled, desperate. They didn’t stop. They rotated. New cock in mouth. New one in pussy. New one in ass. New hands on nipples. New cocks in palms. More loads—on my face, in my mouth, inside my pussy, inside my ass. I lost count. By the tenth cock I was shaking—blindfolded, sobbing, covered, filled, ruined. They untied my ankles. Flipped me onto my stomach. Retied my wrists behind my back. Pulled my hips up—ass high, face pressed to the marble.

When he switched to the other breast I threaded my fingers into his hair and held on. He eventually lifted his head and kissed me again, deeper, while his hands slid under my skirt and found the waistband of my underwear. He hooked his fingers in and dragged them down my legs. I stepped out of them. He left the skirt on, pushed up around my waist, and lifted me onto the edge of the desk. The wood was cool against my bare skin. Victor stepped between my thighs and looked down at me — open, wet, breathing too fast — with an expression that was almost reverent and completely filthy at the same time.

Daring to cross such realms had never truly crossed her mind but as her eighteenth birthday begins to approach, she knows her future is already set in two paths; sold as a slave to another cruel master or work in the brothels as one of the many town whores. Driven by purpose and a thirst to change the fate aligned for her, Ariadne disguises herself as a boy and crosses realms in search of a greater life-- But what meets her on the other end is so much more. WARNING; This story is rated R for mature audiences only. It contains sexual themes, violence, gore, profanity and nonconsent. Readers discretion is advised.

But my mother just adjusted her sunglasses and went back to her book. “I can't—”. I started. “I'm going to—”. “Come. Now”. Then I came silently, my body convulsing and my screams swallowed by his hand. He followed soon after, emptying himself inside me again as his cum dribbled down my thighs. We stayed pressed against the glass, panting, and the risk of discovery still hanging in the air. I knew with absolute certainty, that we had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. And neither of us wanted to go back. We were both partners in this game.

And yet… Every single time Adam had told those stories, James had imagined Lisa instead. He blinked, pulling himself back. "I could handle that," he said, slowly at first, then more firmly. "Yeah." Lisa didn’t look convinced. "It might be a little wild to hear," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it wouldn’t bother me." She raised an eyebrow. "Not the bragging," he clarified. "Not people knowing." Lisa stayed silent. "I’d tell them my side," he added with a small grin. "And realistically? All they’d know is that my wife had great sex."

I pulled my knees back and spread my legs wider, opening myself up completely to his view because I wanted him to see exactly how desperate I was, how much I craved his mouth on my clit and his dick stretching me open. I needed him to fuck my brains out, just like he had the last time until I forgot everything about my marriage. He broke the stare, turning abruptly to a dark corner of the room while I watched him, my chest heaving, as he rummaged through a drawer. He pulled out a long, black necktie. I wanted metal cuffs but a necktie is fine too. He returned to the bed, then climbed over me, his knees bracketing my hips, and caught both of my wrists in one massive hand and he pinned them effortlessly against the pillows above my head, forcing my back to arch.

They stationed themselves at the entrance of the door, staring down at Anderson, waiting and hoping he would make a stupid move. “There is no trick, no suit, no demons in the smoke. Only you and reluctance to let go of someone who is already gone.” Xavier continued when everything settled down. “The smoke from the blood was as a result of you mixing gasoline with the blood and lighting it on fire. The heat and dehydration caused you to hallucinate the faces.” Xavier paused her words for a while before she continued, “There is no devil with the golden eyes calling himself suit. As for the ‘suit’, that was what the gentleman who found you passed out was wearing, when he brought you back to town.” Her warm and caring smile was still plastered on her face as she continued to stare caringly at Anderson.

I scrubbed my skin until it was pink, trying to wash off the lingering sensation of ropes and fear. When I walked back into the bedroom, I looked at the dress. It was a weapon. Deep, blood-red silk. It wasn't designed to cover; it was designed to showcase. It dipped dangerously low in the front and vanished entirely in the back. Beside it sat a pair of black stilettos that looked like instruments of torture and a set of lacy black underwear. “Psychopath,” I muttered. But I put it on.