Crossdressing Fiction Novels & Stories

Ezra had noticed this yet he fell hard for him. The problem was, Kendall only ever treated him like a bro. A roommate. A guy you'd share instant noodles with at midnight, borrow ten bucks or a benjamin from, a guy he'd occasionally elbow in the ribs during late-night Dirt 5 gaming sessions. Ezra got Kendall's attention sure—but never in the way he wanted. Kendall saw him only as plain, ordinary, Ezra. So, Ezra had done something stupid. Something very reckless. He’d created Maya—a female catfish Winstagram account, with photoshopped pictures of a Brunette girl from Stock photos. He had replied Kendall's story about Kafka being possibly better than Dostoyevsky.

Anything to anchor me before I would finally tear my helpless self apart. That was when I stumbled into the wrong part of the bar in my sexual haze. Or maybe the right part. This was a private area which had doors that were left wide open. The music here was different. Deeper. Sensual. And a quick glance around informed me that it was a masquerade party. The bodies moving on the dance floor had faces covered in paint, masks or glitter. The atmosphere was tense. Suddenly, my skin prickled. The hair at the back of my neck stood on end as I felt eyes on me.

This of course reduced the stress of never being able to crossdress at all but increased the longing for wanting to do it more openly and more often. One of the aspects of my longing is that I will often imagine myself as some woman that I see on the street or in some other normal situation. Dr. Lane refers to this as gender transference; I call it a "wanna-be crush." Most men would see a hot, attractive woman and fantasize about being with her; I fantasize about actually being her. Sometimes it's just to feel the sexy, feminine clothes she's wearing, but often I imagine getting laid by one of those male admirers.

The dimly lit loft pulsed with a low, sensual hum, velvet curtains drawn to shield the night outside, the air thick with perfume and anticipation. I stood near the bar, my silk dress clinging to my skin, the fabric teasing my curves as I surveyed the room, my adventurous spirit drawn to the whispered rumors of this exclusive gathering. I’d explored my desires before, but the promise of a lesbian orgy—a tangle of women lost in pleasure—ignited a wildfire in my core, my pussy tingling with eager curiosity as the first guests arrived.

"I'll give you a sock,' Felicia said. Cedric agreed. Perhaps a little too quickly. Felicia looked down at her bare foot and flexed her purple painted toes. Somehow this little exposure felt wrong. And because it felt wrong it also kind of felt right? But also not right. As well. Felicia was too drunk to untangle it all. But, apparently, not too drunk to get her Mario mojo back. As if they'd never left, Felicia returned to her winning ways. And perfect Melvining, too -- every Melvine she won, three other people took off clothes. So while the apartment was getting naked-er, Felicia stayed barely barefoot.

Someone unforgettable. I slipped into a dress I almost didn’t pack—barely-there black satin that clung to my hips and dipped dangerously low in the back. I lined my lips in scarlet, let my curls fall loose, and didn’t bother with a bra. Tonight, I wasn’t Pearl the responsible one. I was Pearl the fantasy. The club was a blur of lights, bodies, and bass. I slid onto a barstool and ordered something strong without asking what it was. My eyes scanned the room as I took a sip—and that’s when I saw him.

THE LADY GOLFER Highly Rated Chapter 2 I had another mild surprise when Sandra opened the door. She was wearing a close-fitting grey wool dress which hugged her curves nicely. Lower down, her black tights showcased her sculpted calves and slim ankles, accentuated by the two-inch heels she was wearing. In short her figure was as good as I had fantasised about and a warm feeling of possibility and pleasure ebbed through me.

Sia was shocked at the pace Mr. Ben’s personality changed. When he was not wearing the CID, he was warm and friendly. Once he wore it, he became cold and reserved—even his manner of addressing her changed. Since she didn’t know how to go back to her room, she remained seated. She looked around, trying to find something to do. A shelf in the corner caught her eye. The doors of the cabinet slid open automatically when she went closer. The sight was one to behold. The shelf was filled with books. All of them ancient paperbacks. Sia picked one of them and inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of books.

His hand settled lightly on my shoulders, then trailed down my arm in a slow caress. When his fingers reached my knee, they slipped beneath the hem of my dress, stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A soft gasp escaped my lips as his fingertips grazed the damp fabric covering my pussy. “You’re drenched,” he observed, voice rough with satisfaction. He pressed two fingers against my clit through the lace, circling with firm deliberate strokes that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily. “All this from reading your own fantasies? Or is it because I’m finally touching what you wrote about so many nights?”

Gabriella “I want to stretch you out until you can’t close your legs, Gabriella. I want to watch my brothers fill your mouth and your ass while I bury myself so deep in your pussy you forget your own name. We’re going to paint you in our cum, record every desperate sob you make for us, and then we’re going to make Derek watch his ‘perfect, repressed wife’ transform into our personal, filthy little pet. You’re going to be so used, so thoroughly ruined by the three of us, that you’ll never even remember what his pathetic touch felt like.”