Tingles

TINGLES FIFTEEN

By Katharine Sexkitten

Since Brad's party, now twelve nights ago, my life of tingles had become an almost never-ending series of firsts.

First gay kiss. First gay sex. First time wearing lingerie and feminine clothes. First time a man held me in his arms and kissed me and romanced me. First time sucking a cock, willingly, and first time swallowing cum.

Most assuredly very willingly. YUM!

The first time being fucked. First time being made love to.

The first time of complete understanding, when I knew that Jessica was alive, was real, was the dominant factor in my life and always would be.

The very first time a man's cock barrelling inside my asspussy made me orgasm.

Now, here in the limousine, I was experiencing another first.

The first time to suck a cock and swallow cum in a moving vehicle.

Jimmy, the Latino driver, had raised the privacy screen at Michelle's request, and after she and I had gotten into some seriously sexy making out I had this overwhelming urge to suck her cock.

That in itself wasn't a first, since I'd already sucked her cock before, Monday evening, in Peter's hotel suite. But this was so much better. There were no nerves, no apprehension, and no delays at all. I knew her cock, I knew what it looked like, I knew what it tasted like, I knew what I liked to do with it in my mouth, and I knew what her cum tasted like and I wanted more. The familiarity of having already been with her before meant my sucking on her cock was liberating, freeing.

I was hornier than I'd ever been. The tingles were cascading around me, carrying me on an invisible ocean of lust. And Michelle was obviously as excited and turned on as I was, based on the gasps and moans and sexy noises she was making, and it seriously didn't take more than about three minutes of my sucking on her delicious cock to make her spew.

And just the act itself, taking it all in my mouth, her length putting the tip of the helmeted head just inside my throat, which opened up for her without me even thinking about it, was nirvana for me. Just fishing her cock out of her panties, her legs lewdly spread on the black leather seat, made me realize that Jessica was where she should be.

Muscle memory. Life memory.

There's another kind of memory too. The emotional kind. The kind that courses through your veins, and pumps up every cell in your body, because you're doing something that not only fulfills your own ambitions in life, but also something that makes someone else's fantasies cum true. That's where I was.

I was floating on a sea of righteousness.

Everything about my world was the way it should be.

I was dressed, in the finest feminine clothes, from my lingerie to the periwinkle blue body-hugging dress, to the stiletto pumps, to the wig, to the makeup expertly applied by Angie, my newest BFF. I was in my prime, fully Jessica, fully realized.

Sucking gurl cock.

And swallowing gurl cum too. And wow! Did Michelle make a lot of it! It was tangy, and syrupy, and reminded me of almonds as it soaked into my taste buds before it wended its way to my belly.

We were on our way to a gay nightclub she knew of. Another first for me. I'd never been to such an establishment before, at home or here or anywhere. So after I'd joyously savoured her cum as it slid all the way down my throat to my tummy, and after kissing her sweetly to thank her for the cum, we sat on the seat and held hands and she told me all about the club.

First, we fixed our makeup.

And then we both put on some of LUST, the fragrance she had invented, that I had invested in earlier today. One dab behind each ear and one on my cleavage, just over top of where the bottom V of the plunging neckline met my bra.

The nightclub was called Celebrities. Wednesday night was their Tranny night. The place would be jumping, she said. There'd be trannies of every kind, from the full-on over-the-top outrageousness of drag queens, to the meekest of panty boys. There'd be gay guys there too, obviously. But they would have to wait outside until ten, because until then the trannies got the run of the house. The only non-dressed men inside would be those escorting the ladies. Dates. Daddies.

She mentioned some friends of hers who would be there. Celeste, Alexandria, Betty, another Michelle, a gurl named June with the biggest gurl cock seemingly in the world, which looked amazing but didn't work at all. Never got hard. She said it was possible a friend of hers named Lisa would also show. She described Lisa as the most sublimely beautiful cross-dresser, who could make grown men swoon and who could make grown men disbelieve their own sexuality. Lisa, according to Michelle, could pass anywhere anyhow anytime, and was the most feminine of creatures she'd ever met.

Until she met me.

I thanked her for her words, and kissed her softly. But I didn't believe her. I mean, I know I looked good. That I was confident in. I know I looked sexy. I know that with the choker covering my bumpy Adam 's apple that I could almost pass.

But deep down, I was a man in a woman's costume. I knew it. As feminine as I tried to be, I'm sure there were others who were genuinely much more female. Genuinely sexy.

Michelle explained about the VIP room upstairs at the club. That's where the real action took place. She told me that there were bouncers, or security, just for that room. If I wanted to venture inside, she said, they would take one look at me and usher me in without a second thought. And she wanted to be serious for a moment when she said I would most assuredly see every kind of gay sex act there was up in that room. Without question. And she went on to tell me that I would be invited to participate in every kind of gay sex act there was, which, based upon how she already knew me, wasn't anything that would shock me or offend me, but instead would pull me in like a tractor beam.

"Honey," Michelle said, "you will get fucked over and over again up there, if you want it."

Time will tell.

The main club itself would have tons of stuff going on, but the club did really try to keep the public sex thing to a minimum. There were security guys all over, and if they saw two guys, or more, starting to engage in real-time sexual congress they would put an end to it.

Take it outside, the bouncers would say.

The alley behind the club, Michelle pointed out, is the usual go-to place for quickies. It was always busy, with mostly blowjobs, but anything was possible, including all-out fucking.

Otherwise, it's a gay club. There'd be every kind of gay guy out there, and a few gay women as well. And just for good measure there'd be some straight people, usually women, who just enjoyed being there and watching the spectacle.

Michelle told me I'd be the belle of the ball, looking like the million bucks I was. She knew I was new at all this, and she offered to provide as much or as little guidance as possible. I could cling to her like a shadow, or dive right in on my own. Whichever I felt most comfortable about.

"But remember," she cautioned, "this is a gay club, full of gay and bi guys. You are going to get your ass felt and pinched and rubbed. That's not a prediction, that's a statement of fact. Doesn't matter if they're into CD's or not. That's just a given. Rule number one. Rule number two is the bathrooms are for peeing, sure, but they're also for doing drugs, as well as quick blow-jobs, and occasionally quick fucks. I'm not saying there will be sex in the bathroom every single time you go in there, no. But truth be told it's about ninety percent of the time. And as for which bathroom a gurl like us should use? The answer is either. Mens, womens, doesn't matter. If you can find a place to pee, sit down and do it."

I took her information in and stored it for future use.

"There will literally be at least one of every gay subset you can think of. Leather guys, biker guys, jocks, bears, musclemen, in-the-closet, out-of-the-closet, married guys, guys cheating on their wives, guys cheating on their husbands, curious first-timers and life-long sluts."

Then she explained the handkerchief thing. Some guys wore them or had them hanging from pockets. Different colours or patterns in different pockets meant the guys were into different things. A certain colour meant he was a top. Another colour meant he was a bottom. Other colours meant they were into all sorts of things. There was even one colour of handkerchief that meant the guy was into scat, and piss. My initial revulsion to those subjects was immediately tempered by what I've learned about humans, and what I've learned about life.

As long as everyone is an adult, and everyone is voluntarily participating, then it's all good. Even if it sounds disgusting to me.

When we pulled up in front of the club, Michelle told me to wait for Jimmy to open my door. There was a line-up of about thirty men or so, on the sidewalk waiting their turn to get in, and when Jimmy came around and opened the door and stuck out his hand I took it and allowed him to help me out of the limo.

As my heels hit the ground with a loud clacking sound, I pretended I wasn't watching, but of course I was. Lots of guys stared. Some of them weren't interested at all, which was fine. Some had the raised-eyebrows, open-mouth, just-got-hit-in-the-head-by-a-two-by-four kind of reaction, to both me and Michelle, after Jimmy helped her out too. A few whistles and oohs and aahs were also there.

One guy didn't wait any time at all, and wasn't shy in his words.

"Oh man I'd give my left kidney to tap that ass!"

And because of his words, it was like the floodgates had been opened, and comments came at us from multiple guys.

"She wants my cock, you can tell," and "can't wait to get into her panties," and one guy had the balls to say "she would look even better with my cum all over her face".

I smiled at Michelle, and she smiled at me, and we held hands and walked to the front door, the loud punch of our heels on the concrete echoing off the façade of the building and making it sound like a herd of horny cross-dressing gurls were there.

And did I overdo the hip sway?

Is this a day that ends in Y?

I milked my feminine strut for all I could. But, I realized, having a four inch round butt plug firmly planted in my pussy made walking like a slut so much easier, and so much more enjoyable. And I wanted whichever men were into gurls to be salivating. I wanted them as hard in their pants as they've ever been, all leaking drops and drops of pre-cum, delicious and tangy!

The thump-thump-thump of music could be heard behind the closed door, as well as the muffled sound of people yelling and cheering and whooping it up.

The doorman, who was one of the biggest human beings I'd ever seen in my entire life, scanned me from tip to toe and smiled, and then warmly smiled at my companion.

"Allo, Michelle, luv," he said in an obviously phony British accent, "aven't seen you in a while. Whatchu been up to, luv?"

Michelle leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Lots of work, Billy," she said, "and lots of fucking too!"

He laughed. "Allo allo allo," he added, now leering at me directly, "who do we have here?"

I stuck out my hand, and he took it.

"I'm Jessica." I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as well.

"Blimey," he said, "you're a charmer, aren't ya? Bloody hell, you're going to be a popular gurl tonight!"

A few short seconds later, the door was opened for us and inside we went.

It was dark, and yet brightly lit in places at the same time. We were ambushed by sensory assault. The music, the voices, the lights, the wispy background smoke, the hum of the heating and ventilation system. It was almost too much, my brain trying to take in every new sight and sound and feeling. Michelle and I checked our coats and then holding hands we wandered inside.

To a revelation.

There were gurls everywhere!

Fat ones, thin ones, short ones, tall ones, lovely feminine creatures, ugly men in dresses and too much makeup. Every conceivable kind of gurl was there.

I felt free.

I felt liberated.

I felt like I'd spent my entire life deserted on a small island in the middle of nowhere, all my attention naturally spent just trying to survive, trying to get by, trying to find simple food and water, to make it to yet another day.

This, walking into a nightclub called Celebrities dressed as Jessica, this felt like I was suddenly awakening from that horrible nightmare and finding society again. Finding life again.

OH MY GOD, I was shivering. Grown men, choosing instead to dress as women, expressing their femininity in whatever way thrilled them; this was where I was supposed to be.

This was where I needed to be.

This was where Jessica should be.

Always.

The club was, in a microcosm, what society should be. People being themselves, enjoying themselves with others, feeling free enough to push off the bonds of societies norms, feeling proud enough to say no to someone else's morals.

A room half-full of the bravest humans ever.

Free. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I am free at last.

I finally understood Martin Luther King Jr.s' words.

Freedom meant this. For all people. For all colours. For all genders.

The freedom to be open about one's own feelings, one's own desires, and one's own reflection.

People gathering together to share in their passions, in their joys, in their lusts and primal feelings. No shame, no covering up, no embarrassment.

This was the way humans are supposed to be!

Michelle guided me to a table already filled with several other gurls. They all shrieked and whooped and hollered as we approached, and introductions were made all around. All the ladies greeted me with air kisses, and hugs, and congratulatory words.

Two of them made eyes at me that made me realize they thought I was a possible threat to them. I could almost hear them saying the word `bitch' in jealousy.

A threat to them getting attention from men, I presumed.

Then I thought about the line up outside, and reasoned that every gurl in the room should be able to get laid tonight, if they wanted.

A gorgeous waiter came by, wearing the standard uniform of a black bow tie and pink satin boy shorts and biker boots. That's it. This one had a great physique, was tanned all over, had a curvy delicious-looking ass, and what looked like a small animal nestled in the satin of his barely-there uniform. A tattoo of an eagle on one shoulder, the entire image made my tingles rise a little, until I saw the cheesy moustache he was growing, which turned me off totally for some reason.

My tingles had ebbed somewhat, after the excitement of sucking Michelle's cock earlier in the limo. I could sense all kinds of different levels of sexuality and smoldering latent hormonal passion amongst the crowd. But so far nothing was making my tingles-meter jump.

Just then I felt a vibration, and realized my phone was buzzing. Taking it out of my clutch purse, I saw a text from Angie.

Having fun yet?

I replied.

The best!

See any good candidates for later?

None so far, but we just got here a couple of minutes ago.

So nothing to report?

I laughed at her brazenness.

Other than the one load of cum I just swallowed, no.

His or yours?

Hers.

YOU SLUT!

I texted her back.

Takes one to know one.

Someone brought me a drink. It smelled very alcohol-y. It was lime green and had a salted rim, and one sip told me it was very strong.

The ladies chatted and laughed and included me in all their conversations. All of them had spent a considerable amount of time getting ready for the evening. The dollar value alone of all the makeup and jewelry and heels and women's clothing in the room would have fed several families at the local food bank for days on end.

Still, I was having the time of my life.

Men were discussed, as potential targets for sexual activity, openly and boisterously. Several of the gurls came right out and said what was obvious.

They were there to get laid. To get fucked. To get picked up by a man and taken home and pounded.

Cock size was debated and stories were told about various former conquests. These gurls were sluts! One lady, named Brittany, told several anecdotes about gang-bangs she'd been in, all of them upstairs in the VIP room. YUM! Even my Michelle contributed a story, about a hot threesome she had a few days ago with an old friend and the sexiest cross-dressing slut she'd ever met. The other ladies were rapt with attention while Michelle related all the fucking and sucking we had done with Peter. I smiled quietly to myself, until Michelle finally dropped the big one and let the gurls know I was the other special women in the room that night.

Then I was getting hugs and kisses and congratulations and questions about how I liked it? and how new was I? and holy cow, only two weeks? and wasn't it the best? and how big was his cock? and I was laughing and talking and relating details and reeling in my joy.

I couldn't believe how liberating and absolutely freeing it was when our table of eight ladies all decided to hit the dance floor at the same time. Some walked like men in dresses, to be sure, but all of us got to the parquet floor and despite never being a great dancer to begin with I was instantly moving my hips and wriggling my bum and having a blast.

And again, marvelling at the multiple uses that butt plugs have.

Not only was it making my pussy feel wonderful, and affecting the way I walked, but it also helps when you're trying to dance in heels. It makes you shake your hips more, shake your bum cheeks more. And every little shake and movement nudged the plug inside me, moving it within my pussy channel, which to a gurl like me is heavenly indeed. I was beside myself with delight!

The time of my life.

Here I was, being Jessica, being me, the real me.

Openly. In public. Unreservedly feminine and almost overdosing on rapture.

No hiding. No shame.

In the face of society. In the face of religion. In the face of every single human being out there who thinks they have the right to tell anyone else how to live.

FUCK YOU!

This is how I am living. This is how I am going to live. This is how my friends are living. This is how the world should be.

Loving. Accepting. Open. Loud and boisterous and real.

I am Jessica Kurva.

I am Jessica Slut!

A short while later, I did have to pee. I entered the women's washroom, mostly on a lark, and did my thing. After, I was checking on my makeup when two very ugly gurls, one of whom had a fully-grown beard, stumbled into the bathroom, obviously drunk already and obviously horny. They were kissing each other, lips and tongues and spit flying everywhere.

I smiled at them, admiring their passion and once again revelling in the openness and pride they were both displaying. This is who they are, and this is what they enjoy, and they're going for it, and to hell with anyone and everyone who doesn't like it or judges them.

"You go, gurls!" I said as I opened the door to leave.

The one with the beard stopped kissing his friend and looked up at me.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

I looked at her. "So are you."

And she was. So beautiful. Even with the beard. She was beautiful, I decided, precisely because of the facial hair. Her dress was boring and her wig was ill-fitting and her eye shadow had been put on with a drywall trowel, and her hairy legs were obvious through her pantyhose. Certainly she didn't fit the usual paradigm for woman. And yet, in her honesty she was beautiful. She was wearing clothes that made her feel sexy, made her feel feminine. And she was uninhibited in how she was acting, snogging with another human equally beautiful in their attitude toward life.

We shared a moment, and then she smiled and went back to making out with her new friend. I noticed hands were running over top of panties. Hard cocks were being rubbed and caressed, inside the sexy sleek material of whatever panties they had on.

If they were wearing panties.

I left them to their destiny.

I was pretty sure that fate had blow jobs happening for both of them, right there and then in the womens' bathroom of a gay nightclub. That thought made me get a little harder in my panties.

I LOVE MY TINGLES.

My feet were hurting from all the dancing, and my brain knew that two of those powerful lime green drinks were having a real effect on me. Plus, at one point, some amazon of a transvestite, with completely over-the-top makeup and wig and fake nails that were almost as big as surfboards, came floating by and offered me a joint to smoke, right out there in the open, so I partook of that too.

It gave me the most wonderful glow.

At ten, the doors were opened and the club became flooded with men.

Every possible kind you could think of.

Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones. Two big men had smaller men on leash, attached to collars. One huge guy, an absolute muscle man, gym rat, or steroid monkey, looked right at me and my tingles jumped a little bit. For a few seconds, I thought he was fixing to talk to me, the way his eyes were boring little holes into mine.

Then I read the words on his t-shirt. The tight garment swelled over a body that Arnold would have been proud of, black cotton, with white words.

GAG ME

SLAP ME

FUCK ME

CUM IN ME

LEAVE.

Succinct, and to the point.

Not the man for me.

Or, more appropriately, I'm not the one he wants to be with.

The noise in the club just skyrocketed when the men were allowed in. And almost as instantly, the parade of bodies headed for the VIP room upstairs became non-stop.

So I decided to go have a peek.

The walk up the wide staircase was amazing, and sent me into cross-dressing heaven. Walking up stairs while wearing a butt plug was also a first for me, and what a thrill! It was sending my tingles up and up, the closer I got to the top. I just knew, in my soul, that what I'd see would elate me, energize me, reinvigorate me.

It would free my soul again.

There were very few lights on, and most of them were reddish. But the second after my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I saw the world of wonders that I'd heard about and read about but had never had the guts to experience before.

Men, and some gurls, were there, completely uninhibited, completely open, completely free.

Completely having all sorts of sex.

Over to the right there were lap dances going on. Twinks in tight jeans or boy shorts were grinding their asses onto the crotches of all sorts of different men. Next to them was a long bench occupied by men getting head. One of them looked exactly like Santa, with a big bushy white beard and a huge belly. This one wasn't delivering presents, though. He was delivering his cock into the mouth of a young man, probably no older than the legal age to get into the club. Santa had his hands on the back of the kids head, and was mercilessly slamming his cock into the kids mouth.

Skullfucking.

Not for the feint of heart, I imagined. And it had no attraction for me, to be honest. Obviously the kid was enjoying it, so good on him, but I prefer things less violent.

I prefer love-making.

Just in front of me I watched an attractive middle-aged man more or less inhale a gigantic cock. One second the nine or ten thick inches were resting on his upper lip, and the next second the entire cock was buried in his throat. And I was close enough to see the muscles in his neck cyclically moving, up and down.

He was milking the cock, with his throat.

His eyes were closed, clamped as tight as a nun's noop, and one tear was rolling down his cheek, but he was obviously where he wanted to be. And the guy getting sucked just tilted his head back and started groaning.

What pleasure!

An ugly guy with a small hard cock walked right up to me.

"You here to suck cock?"

I shook my head at him and smiled.

"Just window shopping right now, thanks!"

He moved away. He walked right up to a different guy a few feet away, and I saw his mouth move, probably asking the same question again.

"You here to suck cock?"

Watching the humanity around me cavorting in open and proud sexuality, I said a little thank you to the universe. Why can't everyone be this way? Gay, straight, bi, whatever.

Why can't everyone just accept that people are sexual, and passionate, and the world is such a happier, more at peace place when that kind of behavior is not only understood and accepted, but condoned and encouraged.

Make love, not war.

Walking downstairs in heels while wearing a butt plug and having had two very stiff drinks is also fun. Three-quarters of the way down I felt my phone buzz again, and checked it.

Another text from Angie.

Found someone to fuck you yet?

I texted her back.

Girl, you need to get laid!

A few moments later she replied.

You're telling me!

Put on whatever your sexiest clothes are, don't wear a bra, go down to either of the two bars in the hotel, and find yourself a man, for gosh sakes!

As I was almost back to the table, she replied.

I'm not as brave as you are.

There was another lime green drink waiting at the table for me. Good golly, I thought, I'm not normally this much of a drinker.

Michelle came strutting up to me a few moments later, holding hands with an older man who was following along behind her. She introduced him to me as an old friend, and lover. His name was Simon. He was probably in his fifties, or sixties. He had a big head of silver hair, and glasses that made him look scholarly. He nodded his hello, so I nodded mine. Then she told me that he was one of her favorites, and that he had generously offered to take her back to his place, not far away, and, quoting her exactly, "fuck my brains out".

Then she handed me a business card, blank on both sides except for a phone number printed in small type.

"This is Jimmy's number," she said, leaning in close to me so her breath was on my ear. Not only did it make it easier to hear, but it just felt sexy! "He's yours for the rest of the evening. I've already let him know. He'll take you anywhere you want to go, anytime, until you're finally back at your hotel. He's a good man, and you can trust him, okay?"

I kissed her. Softly, at first just lips on lips, savouring the feel of her lipstick on mine. Then, we both opened our mouths at the same time, and I tasted her tongue and sweet saliva again. YUM.

Then I stopped, and hugged her, pulling her close to me, wanting her to understand just how much she meant to me. She sensed it, and we embraced. Simon stood and watched. Our hug went on for minutes.

Then I whispered into her ear.

"Michelle, you have been so kind to me, and so generous to me, and..."

"Shhh, honey," she whispered back, "you're my newest best friend, gurl! You are a shining star, Jessica. Never forget that. This journey you've just started on is a profound life, and I can't describe how proud of you I am. I'm so happy that we got to meet, and play, and share Peter. And he's told me about your promotion, and how you'll be travelling here fairly often on business. I can't wait for your next trip! I just hope you'll find some time to spend with me again!"

I pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

"You'll have to get a restraining order to stop me!"

She laughed, and smiled at me the way a lover does, and kissed me again.

"Have a great night, Jessica Slut!"

I kissed her one last time. "I promise!"

Then she and her new beau left. Her ass had a lot of wiggle in it, so she must have been floating on that invisible cushion of knowing she was about to get cock.

Lucky slut!

My phone buzzed again.

I didn't bring anything to wear. Picking up guys stuff.

Suppressing a giggle, I texted back.

Angie, you're a beautiful woman, full of life and energy and spirit, and you have quite possibly the nicest set of tits ever! Wear one of your tight blouses, no bra, and any old skirt or pair of pants. No panties either. I bet you get a guy to take back to your room in ten minutes or less. Now go get a man to fuck you, while I do the same!

Michelle was right about most things, but one in particular.

My ass has never been touched, fondled, caressed, slapped, pinched, rubbed, or downright mauled this much, ever. One guy in particular actually tried to slide his middle finger in between my ass cheeks, searching for my pussy. I clenched at just the right time and trapped his finger, short of its target.

He got the message, and moved on.

I wasn't registering any tingles with him at all.

In fact, and quite surprisingly, in a room full of horny human beings living their most uninhibited way, I was feeling barely any tingles at all. Well, no more than my usual thrum of vibrations. Which were considerable, since I was dressed as absolutely sexy as I can get, with a delicious little butt plug keeping my pussy stretched and warm and excited, in a room full of cocks.

But so far, at least, I hadn't had anyone take my breath away, or make my tingles explode.

Walking back from the dance floor, after several songs of house music with a couple of the other gurls, I began to feel tired. Not tired of the atmosphere, or tired of the people I was with.

But tired. It had been, I quickly realized, a furiously event-filled few days on this trip, and I was so lucky to have been in some seriously sexy moments, with Michelle and Angie, and of course getting fucked more than once by both Brad and Peter. But all the excitement and tingle-induced euphoria was catching up with me, I guessed. All this wearing feminine clothes and playing with others was what I needed, what I craved, what I had to have to continue living, but even Jessica can be guilty of burning the candle at both ends.

Even slutty gurls need rest. Sometimes.

I remembered the card Michelle gave me. I texted Jimmy and asked if he would ready to take me back to the hotel within the next few minutes. He responded very quickly and said he could be out front in three. I texted him back and said I'd be a few more minutes than that.

He replied "Not to worry, Miss Jessica, I'll be here when you're ready."

I began saying goodnight to the gurls. Some were still at the table. Some were elsewhere. I could see Betty on the dance floor, with a much younger guy, who was a terrible dancer but when he turned just the right way I could see had a really big lump in his jeans. Good for her, I thought!

Then, three things happened.

One, a fight broke out right behind me, and bodies were already being knocked around, including a guy being shoved into me, which shoved me to my left, and I wasn't ready for it, and basically fell off my heel. My ankle just bent that way, and a nanosecond later I was preparing myself for falling to the floor.

And then two, my tingles started going insane. As I was beginning to tumble to the ground.

And finally three, a pair of hands caught me, and stopped my fall, and then gracefully supported me and pulled me at the same time, getting me away from the melee and to a safe spot several feet away, wrapped in a cocoon of masculinity, and then gently placed me down on my heels again.

Good as new.

I turned to look at my hero, and then POW! I went into tingle-land.

I've never really believed in premonitions, or seers before. I've always thought it too intellectually nebulous to consider. But right then, at that exact moment in time, I could tell the future.

By divine providence, or simple human intuition, I knew this was the man that was going to fuck me. There was no doubt at all. I had one hundred percent confidence. I just knew it.

The wisdom of sluts, perhaps?

He was taller than me by about three inches. He had salt and pepper hair, cut short, and he looked just like an actor. I spent a few moments trying to place his face, until I remembered that my ex-wife used to like to watch Grey's Anatomy, and there was this doctor on the show who was tall and hunky and I think that the actors name was Eric something or other. In any event, he was that actor's dead-ringer. His doppelganger.

Ruggedly handsome, with a tell-tale smirk on his lips. Sky blue eyes, and plump lips. He was freshly-shaved. He had on a collared shirt, with one button undone, and slacks. He looked like the cat that had eaten the canary. He looked like he knew the same second I did that this would end up with his cock buried in my asspussy.

But I also sensed that there was a teeny weeny bit of hesitation on his part too.

I stood up on tippy-toes, placed my hands gently on his upper chest, and brought my face to his, leaning slightly to softly kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you for saving me," I whispered into his ear.

"Holy shit, you smell fantastic," he whispered back, one of his long arms reaching around me, his hand landing on my lower back.

I reached back and grabbed his hand and slid it down to my ass.

He hummed his approval in my ear.

And then serendipity showed her beautiful self and the DJ cut from the thump-thump-thump of dance music to a ballad. I recognized the song. More Than A Woman, by the Bee Gees.

How apropos!

I whispered again.

"Would you dance with me?"

Before he could answer, I grabbed the hand that wasn't fondling my bum cheek and started walking to the dance floor, which was quickly filling up. I found a space a few feet in and turned to him, stepping into his arms and laying my head on his pectoral muscle. It was hard, and firm, and radiating heat, and I couldn't think of a nicer place to be at that exact second.

He held me, tightly, but with a little bit of wriggle room. Perhaps out of modesty, or concern that I might be offended by his moving too quickly? I couldn't tell.

And it didn't matter. Two seconds later, as we both began to move to the beat of the song, we pulled at each other and became us. I moulded my body to his, pressing my little breasts up against him, wanting him to feel my hard nipples, and then I slowly conformed the rest of me to his front.

Where I discovered a sizeable lump.

I whispered in his ear again.

"My name is Jessica."

"Scott."

Then we danced. If you can call it that. It was more like two people making love fully-clothed. His hands caressed me, massaged me, and made my tingles shoot through the roof. I in turn ran my hands up around his neck, playing my fingers through his shorter hair. I lifted my head and looked at him, and he slowly looked at me. Then I closed the distance and touched my lips to his. Just once.

Then I looked at him again. His eyes were lost in mine. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I could tell that part of him was raring to go.

The lump up against my lower belly was getting much much bigger.

This time he made the move. His lips, big and plump, came down on mine, his tongue just automatically opening me up and owning my mouth. In an instant. Fishing here and there, toying with my tongue and then slapping it out of his way. And it was a long tongue too, reaching almost to the back of my mouth. It wriggled and speared and thrashed about and both of us were fairly snorting out of our nostrils.

His hands grabbed on to my ass, both cheeks, and squeezed me, pulling me even more into his body. I was standing as tall as I could, and my head was craned almost all the way back, and his tongue just kept pistoning in and out of my mouth, all around my teeth and tasting my tongue.

Nuclear bombs could have been going off all around us, and I wouldn't have noticed. Even with my eyes closed I was seeing stars. The same stars I see when I'm getting ready to go orgasmic. My lower body was gyrating, back and forth and in and out, rubbing up against his cock, exciting him. I felt the butt plug in my pussy and realized it would pale next to what he had.

The song ended. Our lips were still together, still exploring, still slaking our hungers, when the music went back to the dance throb. Breaking the kiss, I grabbed one of his hands and dragged him away from the dance floor, away from the majority of the noise.

Moving to a quieter corner, I spun around and threw myself back into his arms, and we began kissing again. It was wonderful. Passionate, hungry, and entirely sublime. He was running his hands up and down my back, occasionally fingering my bra strap, always ending by grabbing my ass and pulling at me, trying to get me even more close to him.

I broke the kiss, and licked his ear lobe.

"I have a limo outside. My hotel is about twenty minutes away. Please come make love to me!"

He whispered in my ear. "I'm here with some friends. It's my buddy Brian's birthday. We're going to party at his place after the club. I don't even have a ride, I came with them."

I giggled.

"Okay, how about this? I have a limo outside. Never mind the twenty minutes. You can be fucking me in less than five."

He laughed out loud, a big belly laugh that reverberated through his barrel chest.

"Mmmmm, I like the sounds of that!"

I bade a quick goodbye to my new gurlfriends, wished them all the best of luck with finding cock, and got my new coat from the coat check. Scott helped me put it on, just draped over my shoulders, without my arms actually in the sleeves. It made me feel even more feminine that way, for some reason. Then he pushed the big door open and I began walking out, seeing the limo parked directly in front of the door.

Billy, the doorman, smiled at me as I walked through the door, and his smile got huge when he saw me holding hands and pulling Scott out behind me.

"G'night luv," he practically bellowed, "you `ave fun now!"

"Oh, I will, Billy," I said, and leaned over to kiss him again on the cheek. "Is there a quiet parking lot somewhere near here?"

He laughed out loud, looking from me to Scott and then back to me again.

"A block east, down the road."

"Beautiful!"

Jimmy was standing at the back door of the limo, holding it open for us. I took his offered hand and folded myself in, sliding to the other side to give Scott room to get in. Jimmy closed the door, and in the time it took him to walk around to the driver's door Scott had pulled me to him, wrapped his left arm around my shoulders, and began kissing me again. His tongue was like a ravenous snake, slithering and gyrating in my mouth. I loved it!

The limo rocked a little bit when Jimmy got back in his seat. He respectfully kept his eyes down, not looking the rear view mirror, and started the car.

"Where to, Miss Jessica?" he asked.

I pulled my lips away from Scott's mouth, taking in a swallow of air.

"Um, there's a parking lot apparently just up the street. Could we...?"

"Of course, Miss," he replied, and put the limo in drive and began pulling out. And just as I was forming the words, he powered up the privacy glass. Scott and I both watched it go up all the way before turning back to each other.

He was an awesome kisser. Just fantastic. His technique was all-out, no holds barred. He was like a man just freed from prison, I imagined, desperate to find a woman to release his pent up masculine passion.

And I was the lucky gurl who was going to receive it.

I don't actually know how far Jimmy drove. It could have been the one block only, it could have been a thousand miles. I didn't notice. Scott and I kissed for a long time, a long deliriously-happy time. His tongue made me shiver, and swoon, and swallow.

My hands spent an inordinate amount of time fondling his package. He had a really nice sized lump in his slacks, and I was patiently biding my time with this kisses. But I knew his cock was going straight into my mouth at some point.

Of that there was no doubt at all.

His hands stroked me almost everywhere, although I did notice that while he loved touching my thigh-highs and bra, he only touched my panties right at the top, just above where my little cock was. He fingered the material, and I could tell from a quicker breath than usual that he found them delightfully feminine and sexy, but I guess he just didn't want to touch my cock.

Maybe that wasn't his thing. Maybe he's a top and that's it. Maybe he's not into reciprocation.

Maybe he's not even gay. Maybe he's just been taken away by momentary lust, by the thrill of the moment. He did say he was at the club with friends. Maybe he's married and just out for a night with the boys.

I didn't care. The way he was kissing me, romantically and sexually at the same time, and the throbbing of his cock in his pants under my hands, told me all I needed to know.

Gay or not. Married or not.

First time or not.

Didn't matter.

He was fucking gurl ass tonight. He was going to plow a cross-dressing slut in the back of a limo. Maybe this was a spur of the second kind of thing, and he'd never do this kind of thing again for the rest of his days. It didn't matter.

Scott was getting his rocks off tonight, without question.

Inside my sissy ass.

I didn't get to suck that wonderful cock for long. Uncut, with a huge hood and bluey veins all over, and completely covered in precum which had obviously been oozing out for some time, it fit perfectly in my mouth. Not as long as Vladimir, not as thick as Peter, but warm and pulsing with vitality, this cocksucking CD slut began loving it with my mouth, kissing up and down the shaft, all over, all around. Licking up his juice, listening to him draw his breath in over and over and over again. When I stopped teasing him and finally took him into my wet mouth, I thought from the intensity of his moan that he might fill me with cum right then and there.

Which is not a burden, by the way.

Still, I had other plans.

I probably only sucked him fully into my mouth five or six times before I let him go. I reached for my purse, and pulled out the lube and a condom.

He kissed me, his tongue ramming into me again, and then set about unwrapping and putting on the rubber. I took the few moments to slide my butt plug out, and replace it with two of my fingers, covered in a big gigantic blob of lube.

It felt wonderful.

When he was set, I spread some lube on his covered cock. It twitched and bobbed and shuffled under my hands. We still had most of our clothes on, and I wondered what his chest looked like.

Another time, I decided.

I flung open my new winter coat, lovingly given to me by Michelle, and yanked my dress up as quickly as I could, gathering the material crudely underneath by bosom. The great thing about G-string panties are there's not much material to get out of the way, so he pulled his pants right off, over his shoes no less, and moved to where he had one knee on the seat and one foot on the floor, and I shuffled a little and flexed my bum upwards and moved the fabric and he slid into place.

His cock was nestled, the tip of it right in the indentation of my pussy hole.

I looked him in the eyes, wanting it, needing it, and I could see the same feelings in his eyes.

"Do it, Scott," I rasped out, "fuck me!"

He held still, a wicked smiled forming on his face.

"You want me?"

"Oh god yes, please!"

"You want my cock?"

"P -- L -- E -- A -- S -- E!!!"

He snickered.

"Beg me for it, you sexy slut!"

"OH FUCKING GOD!" I breathed out, "fuck me, fuck me now...give me your cock, fuck me...I need it, baby...I need it soooo bad..."

"Beg me!"

I shook my head and fixed him with a stare that could stun.

"I don't need to beg you, baby," I whispered, "you want this just as much as I do...you want it...you want your cock inside me...you want to fuck me more than anything in the world...you came down here tonight to hang out with your buddies, never expecting to meet a gurl like me, right? You probably have a wife or girlfriend at home, waiting for you, don't you?"

He nodded, just a little bit.

"You probably never ever considered the possibility of meeting a gurl like me, did you? But then you did meet me, a cross-dressing sexual woman, a slut, and now all you can think about is fucking me senseless with that cock of yours...and you know what? That's what I want too...so fuck me, Scott...fuck me...I'm better than that wife of yours...I'm a special woman...the best thing about special women like me is that we want it...we want cock...we want you to fuck us...we want to be filled with your cock..."

Scott just stared at me, a look of concentration fixed on his face. I was trying to push my ass towards him, to get him inside me, but it was tough to do lying as I was, somewhat across the bench seat, my head cocked at a funny angle on the seat back.

"Please, baby," I whispered, "please fuck me...please make love to me...please take my.."

Which was the exact moment he pushed forward, spreading my pussy open in an instant, and steadily sank that fantastic cock inside me. All the way to the hilt. Full out. Completely. It was like one second I weighed my usual amount, and the very next second I weighed a couple of pounds more. A couple of pounds of hard, lubed-up man meat. Right where it belonged, snuggled tightly in my pussy.

My mouth opened up, my eyes opened up, and I shrieked in surprise so loudly I'm guessing the gay boys hanging out outside the club a block away could hear me.

I was very sure Jimmy heard it.

Scott just held himself inside me, filling me, stretching my insides, and completing me. I was in my perfect place again. There was nothing else around me, not people or cars or industry or life of any kind.

There was just Jessica, overcome with the blinding white stars I see when my tingles are blasting. And they were! Like the best fireworks show, I was exploding and popping and blasting in multiple colours and tones, all unchoreagraphed, unrehearsed, and unrelenting.

He gave me a few moments to fully accept him in my bowels, and then he started to move again.

Two more or less gentle strokes later, I was well over any shock and well on my way to bozoland. I had cock in me again, where it belonged. My mind was a fog of lust, billions of thoughts swimming around me, all of them primal and sexual. I was filled with his cock, and filled with happiness. Elated. I was home. A handsome man was in me, his penis hard and throbbing, searching for my soul, piercing my pussy, and ratcheting up for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

For the both of us.

The third stroke began the real fucking. Powerful thrusts were banging me into the soft leather of the seat, my head rocking, my hands running up and down his arms, which were on the seat around me and which he was using as his pivot point, to take all of his body weight so he could pour everything into his cock, driving it into me.

He never stopped looking at me. My cock was bursting out of my panties, just the head revealed, and I brought one arm down to feel it, to marvel at how hard I was, and how much juice I was oozing out. I managed to gather some precum on my fingertips, and brought them to my mouth. I sucked as if it was his cock, and his eyes flashed with energy and his fucking just became fiercer.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

Every once in a while, usually on an outstroke, I could hear a squelchy sound, the lube on his condom-covered cock playing with the lube in my pussy. It was the most erotic sound I've ever heard.

Bar none.

There was a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, from underneath his hairline. I wanted to taste it. I hoped gravity would force it to drop down on me, on my tongue, so I could savour its salty musky flavour. I watched it collect in his eyebrow.

He closed his eyes. His fucking became faster now. Every third stroke would be fiercer than the previous two, and he'd ram his body into my ass cheeks, trying desperately to get his cock into me farther than ever before. My own little cock was oozing cum now, and I brought some more up to swallow it, in between my rapid breathing.

The air was filling with our scents, with our fervor. I was almost there, and I sensed he was too. And then like switching into the next gear, his cock started pummelling into me at an even faster rate, simply unrestricted passion cascading out of him through his awesome cock, pounding me, pounding me, pounding me.

I loved it!

And then my vision went all white stars again, and I moaned loudly and began spewing out cum, some on my exposed belly, some squirreling down my sides onto the inside lining of my new coat, and some leaping up and plooping down onto my brand new dress.

My brand new Prada dress, which Angie told me must have cost a fortune.

And now it needed to be cleaned.

Which made me happier than I've ever been.

My head swirled around the stratosphere for a short while, as I just kept pumping out cum. His pounding hadn't slowed, if anything he was still speeding up, and my orgasmic miasma was just starting to dissipate when he more or less yelled out the word "FUCK!", hurtled his cock into my pussy one more time, and began pulsing his cum out.

I counted his body shudders.

He pumped five ropes into the condom.

I LOVE MY TINGLES!

Scott collapsed on top of me, his hard penis throbbing in my asspussy, and I wrapped my arms around him. But then a couple of seconds later, I pushed at his shoulders.

"Baby, I'm covered in cum...sit up..."

So he did. Looking down, I saw a little bit of my cum on his shirt, and I wiped it off with my finger, bringing it to my lips and slowly sucking on it. YUM! He had a worried look on his face, but not overly concerned.

"It'll be okay," I said, "you just need to get your shirt off as soon as you get home. She won't notice."

He nodded at me, a little meekly.

Perhaps embarrassed, about being caught, and cheating on a spouse.

"Baby," I whispered, "I'm not judging. I don't care if you're married or not. I don't care. I wanted to get fucked, and you wanted to fuck me. It's as simple as that, right?"

He nodded again, a little less meekly.

Then he started softening inside me. So he began sitting back, and his cock popped out of me. I moaned a little disappointingly at that. He did too.

I reached over and slowly peeled the condom off him. He watched me intently, as I brought it to my mouth, stuck the open end inside, lifted the heavy end, and slid all of his cum down onto my tongue. It was creamy, and salty, and nutty, and still warm, and I moaned the most satisfying sound a woman like me can make and let his seed make its tantalizing way over all my taste buds and down into my tummy.

I was one satisfied special woman.

He put his pants back on, and straightened up. I found my butt plug and slid it back where it belonged. Where a gurl like me needs it.

In my pussy. In my core. In my essence.

Scott sheepishly kissed me on the cheek, and then looked me in the eyes and tried to find some words.

"It's okay, baby," I said, "I had the most wonderful time."

He nodded. "Jessica?"

"Uh huh?"

"Do you live in town?"

I laughed. "No, baby, I don't," I said, "but I'll be back on business a few times a year. Did you want to maybe see me again sometime?"

For a few moments, I worried he might hurt his neck, the way he was nodding. Enthusiastic just doesn't describe it.

Then he kissed me on the lips, softly.

And then I was in the back of the limo, by myself.

I straightened up, as best I could, which meant licking as much of my own cum up, off my dress and my belly and my panties, and then sliding it back down my body. Being periwinkle blue, it showed some discoloration, in spots.

Oh well. The troubles a gurl goes into after getting fucked!

Jimmy buzzed me on the intercom, and I asked him to take me back to the hotel. I was even more tired now, way more than I was earlier. Being made love to by a man has that effect on me!

It was close to half past midnight when Jimmy escorted me up the six tiers to the front door of the hotel. The two elegant doormen opened the big doors for me again, and I slowly and proudly swayed my way to the elevators. Two women behind the main desk eyed me, one of them smiling slightly. I'm certain she knew exactly what she was looking at.

A woman who just had a great fuck!

The elevator dropped me on the eighth floor, and I pulled my key card out and quietly entered my suite. I closed the door as discretely as I could, not wanting to bother any of my neighbours, including Angie, who were probably sleeping at this late hour.

Just as my door shut fully, I heard a door closing from outside, in the hall, so I quickly peeped through my spy hole.

It was a man. By my guess in his forties or so, a little pudgy but otherwise ship-shape. He was buttoning up the last of his shirt as he moved quickly to the elevator, pushing the button several times, obviously in a hurry. I could see a smile on his face, but the way he kept repeatedly pushing the button made me think perhaps he was doing his own walk of shame.

Any other night, and I wouldn't have cared. But he distinctly came from Angie's door, and kicking off my shoes I grabbed my phone and texted her.

YOU SLUT!

A few moments later, she replied.

WHAT?

Don't give me that. I saw the guy, leaving your suite.

Oh, that.

I waited for more.

You're back early.

It's been a busy trip. I guess I'm just a little tired. I need some sleep.

Did you have fun?

You betcha! Did you?

There was a pause of a few seconds.

Yeah. He was okay.

Only okay?

Just okay.

Did he make you cum?

A little one.

Then I waited. For what I was sure would follow. It took a little longer than I thought.

Do you want to come over and make me gush?

I didn't reply at all.

P -- L -- E -- A -- S -- E

She could probably hear me laughing at that. She typed it just as I had said it to Scott, earlier. Pleading. Wanting. Begging.

Unlock your door.

Okay, but I'm jumping right back in bed. He left you a treat you can enjoy while you're making me gush, and I don't want to lose any of it.

Mmmmm. Load number four!

FOUR????

Michelle's, Scott's, mine, and now his. Whatever his name is.

Darryl.

Open your door.

I waited for a bit, and then grabbed my phone and my key card and padded on stockinged feet out my door and directly to hers, which was ajar. Down the little hall, I turned to her bedroom door, and saw her, on the bed.

Completely naked.

She was holding her legs back, her knees pressed to her magnificent tits, her lower back arched, pushing her pussy up so his cum wouldn't leak out. Her body was tanned in all the right places and white everywhere else, and she was covered in a sheen of sweat.

She looked like sex incarnate!

"Your dress is stained!" she said.

"I know!" I said proudly.

"A good laundromat will get that out."

I nodded, and stared at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You are so fucking sexy!"

"Says the slut who sucked three cocks already!"

I shook my head. "One. Michelle. Scott fucked me like a bastard and then I slurped down his load out of the condom. I swallowed as much of my cum as I could so my dress didn't get too stained, but it didn't work."

Angie smiled.

"Come and get load number four, baby!"

"On one condition," I said.

"Name it."

"After I eat his cum out of your pussy, and then make you gush, I want to take a picture of your breasts."

"My tits? You want a picture of my tits?"

"I do."

"Okay," she said, before adding, "no face shot, though."

I nodded. "I want a picture of those fucking magnificent breasts to show to the doctor."

Her eyebrows curled, quizzically.

"What doctor?"

Moving to her, I slid onto my front, and right between her legs. Her pussy was right there, right in front of me, and smelled divine. She had cum, alright, I could tell, but it wasn't the gush she wanted.

"The doctor that's going to give me an exact copy of your tits," I said, right before my tongue zipped out of my lipsticked mouth and danced on her clitoris, still poking out from its hood.

She moaned a deep guttural sound, her head fell back onto the pillow, her legs splayed out to her sides, and over top of her landing strip of public hair I saw them fully, for the first time.

Those outstanding breasts.

Her nipples were red and rosy and had huge areolas and were heaving up and down with her breathing, and I snaked both hands up and cupped each tit, imagining them on me.

Me.

Jessica Kurva.

Jessica Slut.

I LOVE MY TINGLES!

The end.