Something had to happen next, but I didn’t know what. He had my number, and had sent me texts. His own delirious memories of the pool and then the woods. What I had done for him. What else he would like to do to me. I read his detailed texts in bed, lying naked in a sweat. Touching myself, trying to prolong the memory, the fantasies, I spent myself in my hand and lapped it up. I kept my eyes closed, believing it was him, but it wasn’t the same.
Oh god. I wanted more.
I sent him a text saying exactly that. He responded quickly: “Like what?”
It was so exciting, thinking of him somewhere across town, smiling. Did he have his cock out, thinking about me? I knew if he asked me to do anything, I’d let him. He knew that too. Surely?
Should I put it into words? Present myself to him, openly? I swallowed hard. What was I doing? How far was this going to go?
(was there a too far?)
I remembered my knees against the tiles in the changing room. The collar round my neck. The breeze. The heat. The sensations. The ecstasy. All so real, that everything since felt false. There had to be more.
I took out my phone. “You can do anything to me you want,” I typed, fingers trembling. “I’ll do it.”
“Anything?”
It was the sexiest word I had ever seen.
“Yes,” I replied. And then I waited. A whole day went by in a blur. What was he thinking? What would his response be? His idea. I just wanted to please him. Jesus. I was walking through a car park when I thought vividly about what he might want, might ask. I thought about his cock, his cum. istanbul travesti I had to stop, my cock was too hard. I had to find a wall to sit on until it abated. It hurt so good. This tension was like nothing I had ever experienced. What would he want me to do? The anticipation was electric, yet I knew it wouldn’t be sweeter than the prize.
For a moment, even though I was in a public place, I let my urges win. I imagined him dressing me up, calling me names, using toys on me, tying me up- a barrage of shameless delirious images. When I tried to get up my legs were shaking. I had to laugh at myself.
Oh my god. I was his. But was there anything- something- I wouldn’t do? I frowned. What if I let him down, or there was something I wouldn’t be willing to do? For a moment I felt my heart thudding. There was want. Fear. Need.
My lips were dry. I wanted to prove something to him. To myself. It was beyond words, in a way.
I realised then, that I simply wanted him to do whatever he wanted. Whatever that was.
The next day he texted, saying he was going to send me something. I hesitated, then gave him my address, I couldn’t go this far and not go further. Also, I knew waiting for the package would be exciting beyond belief. It was like a care package, from someone who knew I was a slut. Wow.
When the package came, I sat on my bed and opened it. I closed the curtains, enjoying the naughtiness, the taboo element. My fingers trembled. This was a present that was for the other me, the hidden me. The slut. Inside was a pink collar, a proper one istanbul travestileri (Not for dogs. For slaves). A blindfold. A blonde wig, an anal plug, and bright pink handcuffs.
My heart thudded with each reveal. I took my cock out, and just stroked. Staring, thinking.
Imagining.
Would we be using these? When? Where?
I let him know the box had arrived, told him I liked my presents.
“All of them?” He texted.
“Yes.” I wrote. “I love them.”
And then he wrote; “Would you like to play with others?”
My breath caught. My cock stiffened. My thoughts raced. Oh shit. Too much. Too fast. Slow down. So exciting. What will I let them do? Everything? Bent over, passed around, dressed up. Bound and toyed with-
Be a girl. A slut. A slave. You wont see them, just hear as they point and laugh. As they grunt and sweat. Just smell it. Just feel it.
My mouth was completely dry. I hadn’t moved in minutes. I thought of the wig, long and girly, perfect over my short cropped hair. The pink cuffs, with their soft fluffy inner lining. The plug — my eyes locked on it. I undressed and then got out some lube, before slowly working it inside me. The room was dark, it was like a dim shady hotel room. I lay on my side, imagining a lover was spooning me, thrusting. I fucked myself slowly for a while. Then, in the dim room, I put on the collar. It felt strange, but weirdly right. Then came the wig, the blind fold. I realised I didn’t have panties. No matter, they would only be on the floor anyway. Probably under some strangers feet.
I travesti istanbul lay there, in this warm cocoon. The long hair of the wig touched my shoulders. Brushing them gently. A cool sensation. The toy worked deeper inside, like a slow lover. It was big enough to test me slightly, but it didn’t hurt. It filled me, joyously. I lay like this, in bright serene darkness, my anus squeezing softly at the thing inside me. My mind began drifting on a tide of soft sweat, and I surrendered completely to becoming this. For as good as it felt, as incredibly arousing, as secret and alluring, as hard as it got me, it was empty without someone there. A voice in the dark. Hands. Breath. A slap on my ass. A name chiding me, calling me good or bad- whatever they wanted.
I wanted to be seen.
I jerked myself off, thinking about all the men that might be in the room around me (eyes on me, staring at my beads of sweat, hearing my desperately needy breaths, mesmerised by my shamelessness), then I came in my hand, my whole body jerking with quick frantic motions. I brought my hand to my lips and urgently sucked my fingers clean. This was my lover’s cock- no some complete stranger whose cock I would know, but never their face. I swallowed it, gulping tensely. A part of me was still nervous, how couldn’t it be?
Afterwards, I thought about buying stockings, panties, and I called my lover. I told him what I had done. I told him I was ready for more.
I showered. I found myself shaving my legs after. Then my arms, then around my crotch. I would be smooth from now on. When I returned to my bed, a text was waiting from him. He had arranged something for me.
It was exciting. Terrifying. I read it over and over again, hand on my cock, teasing myself.
“Four cocks. One slut. A gathering.”
And then he added; “Soon.”