Forced Crossdresser Fantasies Novels & Stories

In my pursuit of excitement, I lay on the bed with my legs open, frantically pleasuring myself in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Through the dark glass, I could see a strong man on the balcony opposite staring at my body intently. This extreme taboo made my scalp numb, and I grew increasingly depraved. I tried my best to arch my back as I became a shameless, irrational, and thrill-seeking tart. My name was Layla Terra, and I was a dance student.

Instead of savoring the memory again and again alone in bed, I started pretending it was me. I started longing for the alpha, pretending it was my pussy he was fucking, my tiny ass he breached each night. And even after he and Hannah got married, the fantasies didn’t stop. I imagined my new brother-in-law fucking me in his wedding tux, his huge King-size bed bouncing up and down as I welcomed his rod deep, suctioning him in hungrily with my hungry pussy. Oh god, I wanted it … and I’m so fucked now because we’re related.

Tyler leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide. “Good girl. Tell us one fantasy you’ve never told your husband. Something dirty that gets that married pussy wet when you’re alone.” I laughed a little, shifting on the couch, feeling the damp spot growing in my panties. My mind raced back to nights touching myself thinking about rough hands and filthy words. “Okay, truth. Sometimes I imagine getting fucked by more than one guy at once. Not gentle. Hard, pinning me down, taking turns until I’m shaking and dripping everywhere. Jake would freak if he knew I thought about shit like that.”

Alexander gave me my dress back to hold up as he took off his cape and laid it over a fallen tree trunk and then grabbed me up around his waist again, my bare pussy just soaked straight into his shirt making me moan instantly. "You're going to regret teasing me just now," as he slowly lowered me down. He hovered over me, his eyes were almost entirely purple now and mine must have been all gold for I was completely lost Fyre was in control of me now and I couldn't help almost mewling in desperation as I tried to push myself into his legs, looking for anything to satisfy my desperate lust as he propped my legs high and split apart, looking at me the whole time, dress up around my bra exposing

He retorted. “I have tried my best to have sex with someone other than you, I even paid a pornstar but all I could see was your face and hair, I specifically had them bring over a curly red-haired woman to me with a tanned skin similar to yours, but I can't seem to do anything to all of them, it felt wrong to even fantasize about having sex with them when all I could imagine was your tight cunt swallowing my hardness and taking it like a very good girl,” He yelled, taking deep breaths within all he said, he tried his best to reign his control in.

And yet… I stripped out of my sundress and lay on the bed in just my lace panties. My hands wandered before I could stop them. I cupped my heavy breasts, pinching my nipples as I imagined their hands instead. Marcus’s strong grip. Derek’s rougher touch. Both of them on me. The fantasy shocked me two daddies worshipping my body, using me, claiming me.

The room murmured agreement. the Meeting was over and i was Back in my office, door locked, I opened the photos full screen. Her walking Head high Like she owned the city.I leaned back. Unzipped. Freed my dick thick and hard. Stroked slow, base to tip, eyes on her ass in the dress,my Fantasy hit hard imagining Her in my penthouse. Emerald dress torn off. Tied to a St. Andrew's cross her wrists and ankles bound and body spread wide. Blindfolded. Nipples clamped tight, pulling low moans from her full lips. I'd circle her slow, crop in hand. Trace the leather tip over her heavy breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs."You stole from me," I'd say. "Thieves get punished."

I’m average height, with curves that refuse to be tamed and breasts too full for most of my blouses. So I stay silent. I pretend not to care. Instead, I come home, peel off my clothes, and lie in bed with one hand between my thighs and the other gripping a toy—pretending it’s him. I close my eyes and imagine his voice growling my name, his mouth on my skin, his fingers replacing mine. I thrust, moan, and shudder, chasing the orgasm like it’s his mouth driving me over the edge. I know it’s wrong. But in the dark, with my fantasies wrapped tight around me, he’s mine. Even if only in my dreams.

The box also contained a pair of white, patent-leather high-heels. The letter was at the bottom of the box. She unfolded the singie sheet of paper and read the italic script. All was revealed. avid’s fantasies had always followed a pattern. They featured two themes, which Clare recognised from her own extensive reading on the subject of sexual behaviour. The first was what the books liked to call submission. He wanted her to dominate him. The second was an element of transvestism. David liked to wear women’s clothes, more precisely, their underwear. Whether this was a separate strand of his sexuality or part of his desire to be submissive, Clare did not know or care. But it was there. She ha

he next few days blurred into a haze of secret touches and stolen moments. At work, Marcus’s glances had become openly possessive. In the quiet back office, he would pull Vannia in for rough kisses, his hand slipping under her skirt to find her always-wet pussy. At home, the three of them fell into a rhythm of insatiable hunger. But Marcus had one final fantasy he wanted to fulfill. On their first full weekend together, he prepared the bedroom with care—soft lighting, the ropes again, and a few new toys. “Tonight, we seal this properly,” he told them. “No more holding back.”