Crossdressing Fiction Stories Novels & Stories

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

What the fuck! My curiosity got the better of me. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I should turn around and go back to the living room like a normal, professional babysitter. But instead, I crept closer, holding my breath. The door was open just enough for me to see inside. And what I saw made my mouth go dry. Damien Cross was sitting in his large leather chair behind the desk, legs spread wide. His shirt was unbuttoned, his powerful chest and abs on full display. His pants were open, and his hand was wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly, deliberately.

WARNING! THIS IS A NON-CONSENSUAL STORY. PLEASE BE WARNED. IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT AVOID THIS PARTICULAR STORY. As I mentioned, I write based on the prompts readers give if it's not too extreme. This doesn't mean the author supports this in real life. Note: There are limits I won't cross when writing these collections, so when you request a certain story, don't cross a certain line. I won't write it. CHAPTER 1 The bar smelled like spilt beer and old cigarettes. A few people were scattered around the tables. It was late August, and most of the town was at the county fair.

The witty, independent woman who kept to herself but always had this quiet strength that made my heart race. I’d even moved into this apartment building just to be closer to her. One hot afternoon, our delivery orders got mixed up while she was out. I opened the box by mistake and found sex toys, lingerie, and outfits that looked exactly like the ones Red Fox wore in her videos. I quickly closed it and swapped the boxes back, but the doubt was planted. To confirm, I checked her Sensual page again. The purple-painted fingernails, with the last one stained and chipped in that exact way, matched Scarlett’s perfectly. It all clicked. My quiet neighbour was Red Fox.

The e-mail showed that Selena was Googling pornographic websites - specifically sites which catalogued and stored sex stories. As he checked the screenshots and the text which was being typed into the search bar, he found that she was looking for stories which dealt with S&M, dominance and submission, bondage and humiliation. The next e-mail had a screenshot of the story that she was apparently reading, since the next several e-mails all had screenshots of the same story, just pages later.

and undid the fastenings of my jeans. This was so, so wrong... but AI-me was just so freaking sexy! She was doing things I'd barely had the courage to even let myself dream about, much less to actually consider doing... and she was doing them with such a huge, excited smile on her face! I rubbed myself slowly up and down inside my panties, biting my lip, squeezing my boob through my shirt and bra. It felt like with each new picture, my eyes were getting even wider. There were so many different dress-up outfits... not just lingerie, though there was plenty of that, too, so much sexier, and sluttier, than anything I actually owned. But I was seeing myself as a nurse, a firefighter, a teacher,

] while she laid there, her mind far-away. She'd been with dominant and submissive men, and men that were closeted gays who wanted to fuck her asshole and make her wear a beanie to cover up her hair and not say a word so they could pretend she was their male lover. She'd been in threesomes where the two men had paid more attention to themselves than they'd pay her. She had eventually lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting them do their own thing.

His cock twitched traitorously in his sweatpants. Later that night, after Damien had gone to shower, Elias couldn’t take it anymore. He lay on his bed, hoodie pushed up to his chest, sweatpants shoved down just enough. His hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock, stroking slowly at first, then faster. His eyes were closed, breath coming in soft, desperate pants. In his mind, it wasn’t some vague fantasy, it was Damien’s strong hands pinning him down, that deep voice growling filthy things into his ear while…

Alex crossed the floor without hesitation. Diego spoke first, voice low, rough. “You’re late.” “Traffic,” Alex lied, lips curving. Marcus laughed, deep and rolling. “Bullshit. You were jerking off in the car thinking about this.” Alex didn’t deny it. He stepped onto the platform, stood between Marcus’s spread knees. Marcus reached out, palmed Alex’s bulge through the jock, squeezed once. “Strip,” Marcus ordered. Alex unbuckled the harness first—slow, deliberate—letting leather slide off shoulders. Then he hooked thumbs in the jock waistband, pushed it down. His cock sprang free—cut, seven inches, thick, already leaking. Heavy balls drawn up tight.

Every breath carried the low growl of his voice in my ear: Look at yourself… dripping for me while my fiancée waits. By 7:15 p.m. I was back at his building, wearing a loose black sweater dress that fell to mid-thigh. No underwear. The notebook burned in my bag like contraband. I told myself this would be the last time. One more night of filthy vows and mind-shattering pleasure, then I’d find a way to extract myself from this job before the wedding planning spiraled any deeper. The lie felt thinner than the lace I’d stopped wearing. The penthouse lights were dimmed to a warm amber glow tonight.