True Cross Dressing Stories Novels & Stories

“Stress?” I could tell from the logos and colors of the paper bags that they weren’t for men. My cousin was gay, and he was proud of it, but ever since, he never liked crossdressing. He would splurge on expensive clothes, shoes, perfume, and accessories, joking he was too gay that he wanted to pamper himself with worldly possessions. I never believed him because he would sell them at the end of the year, put the limited-edition items on auction, and the money he earned from it would be donated to his favorite charities. “You change your preference now.” My lips curved into a smile as I teased Bob when he didn’t answer.

So, Over the next couple of years, I started cross dressing & playing with big black toys, until I just couldn't take it no more. Then I found the M4T personals on Craigslist & quickly hooked up with another Big Black Cock, who fucked my now totally broke in ass pussy. Over the next few years I hooked up with another 10 Big Black Cock's, who I dressed up all sexy for & had them just fuck my ass pussy, with some of them even cumming all up in me too.

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 tow

They locked the door behind me and left. I sat on the edge of the mattress, heart pounding, when the door opened again. Vincenzo stepped in wearing only black pants, chest bare, tattoos shifting under the low lights. “On the bed, Leo. Face up. Legs spread.” I moved without thinking. My body already knew what he wanted. I lay back, knees falling open, cock twitching even though I tried to fight the pull. He grabbed a black bag from the nightstand and dumped out a thick dildo, a vibrating plug, and lube. “You’re not fighting anymore, are you?” His voice was rough as he climbed between my legs. “Look at you. Already wet for me.”

"Though you will need a bigger size, it won't fit that big ass of yours." Max murmured to himself, "Going to kill Cayden slowly, painfully." "Oh! What about a teddy made of pink fabric?" Anna stated. "Don't start. I really mean it!" Max frantically glanced in all directions. "There is a reason I am here." "Really? Are you a secret cross dresser, Max?" Anna grinned. "No! You should know better than to assume that is what I am, Anna. Shouldn't you get your toenails waxed, your teeth whitened, your eyebrows shaped, or something else?"

I searched the internet for help on how to read myself of the curse. The truth found me. I was hungry…not for sex with a man but a specific fantasy that involved three men. I touched myself to videos that played my fantasy, let my mind get creative. It wasn’t until days ago that I found a place in my city. Turns out for a good price, you can live out your fantasies. And now, I was a free woman…ready to walk down the aisle without feeling like a horny wreck. “All done.” the stylist announced. I glanced at my reflection on the vanity mirror..

Months after the funeral, and the ache between her legs still wouldn't let her sleep, she grabbed the thick dildo, its familiar weight heavy in her palm, and lay back against the pillows, her breasts rising and falling fast under her thin nightgown. "Why does it still hurt like this every damn night?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracking. She hiked up the gown, exposing her wide hips and the soft curve of her belly, then spread her legs wide, the cool air hit her already damp folds. "Just one time without crying after, please."

I walk into the cool premises that’s scented with candles and incense, a very huge difference with the disgusting smell of sweat and heat outside. My short black dress that shouldn’t be seen on a pastor’s wife clinging to my body like a second skin and screaming nothing but sin. The thin mesh of the material is damp with sweat from the blazing heat outside outlining my full breasts and wide hips. I intentionally ignored wearing a bra and panties, I’m here for confessions and deliverance after all and what better way to do it than without underwear. As if being told someone is in the premises, two people suddenly appear from a hidden door behind the altar. Priests to be precise. People that h

The kind that has enough layers to rival a wedding cake. “I am NOT wearing this!” I protest, waving the dress around like it’s a weapon of mass humiliation. “Oh, you think that’s bad? It’s that or this...” Zak, the traitor, holds up the worst thing I’ve ever seen—a see-through chemise. “And for the grand finale!” Jax joins in, lifting a male G-string like it’s some kind of prize. This is a new level of torment. “Okay, fine! Fine! I’ll wear the stupid dress!” I snap.

How professional is this crossdresser? Lastly, he takes out a concealer and daps some of it on that significant mole of mine under the tail of my left eyebrow. As he daps the concealer on my skin, he warns, “Never let Jamie Lee Peyton see this mole, or he’ll find out you’re Henrietta in an instance.” “Okay.” I nod at him, telling him that I am baring his words in mine. I don’t want him to find out about it either, everything can end there.