Reservations

By Gingerfred Man

 

Chapter One – Hotel Management

For many in the sprawling Wisconsin city of Fromage, the business day was ending. Weary road warriors were leaving their clients to the comfort of hearth and home as they slogged off to their dreary hotels for a couple of drinks at the hotel bar, some ogling of fishnet-stockinged waitresses and a tussle with a tough steak, followed by the so-called pleasures of the hotel room – a couple of hours watching sitcoms and reality shows, a far-less-than satisfying wank, then sleep.

But Norm Jordan's workday was just beginning. As manager of Fromage's City Hotel, he was proud that his guests could look forward to a night far superior to the usual fare to which a traveling businessman had been previously doomed.

The brainchild of Dick Devine, a crossdresser who spent 150 nights a year on the road, the City Hotel offered things that made businessmen eager to stay there and reluctant to go home for weekends.

Norm knew very well that frequent guests had nicknamed his hotel the "Clitty" Hotel and he was proud that they had.

All must be in order for the guests, so he began his daily tour of the accommodations. The guest rooms, which were all above ground level, were a no-brainer. Just a regular hotel with all the usual stuff. The amenities of the "Clitty" were all in rooms below ground. Away from peepers and the unhealthily curious.

Norm walked the subterranean halls and drew in the smells. Although the place had been thoroughly cleaned from the revels of the previous night, some smells would just never leave. Thank goodness. He smelled the sweet perfume of sissies eager for their men. The manly, lusty sweat of men hungry for the soft comfort of a sissy's love. But mostly, he smelled cum – hot and musty – freshly, gently squeezed from the balls of a panting, gasping sissy at the pinnacle of her pleasure -- teased, licked, sucked, squeezed and rubbed from men urgently spilling their hot loads on, in, over and around gleeful sissies.

This was Norm's world and he was proud to be part of it.

 

Chapter Two – Customers

Tom, Dick and Harry had had a rough day. They had gotten the 6 a.m. flight from their East Coast homes and had been working through some rough spots in a situation their client had made sure was completely screwed up before he asked for help. And the next few days loomed poorly as well.

But now that the day was over, Harry and Dick seemed to be positively joyous, eager to get to their hotel for what Tom thought would be hours of dull talk with two guys he had never worked with before. Did they know something Tom didn't?

The City Hotel didn't look that special. Maybe like a nicer Holiday Inn, but Harry and Dick always insisted on staying there when they worked in Fromage. Which was often.

Tom was not all that happy when he was pulled off his current projects to assist the two guys on their big mess.

"You'll be very happy you joined us," Harry said to Tom.

Tom didn't see how. In his view, Fromage was a one-horse town and the client was a pain in the ass. Why did Harry and Dick like it so much?

Tom agreed to drop his stuff off in the room, then meet the other guys in the bar at 6 p.m. That only gave him 15 minutes, time enough to wash his face, take a piss and call his wife. ("So, how was your day? The kids all right? OK. Love you. Bye.")

With a sense of dread, Tom went downstairs and joined his colleagues.

The bar was almost empty. Harry and Dick each had a beer and were standing with a short, middle-aged guy in a blue blazer, striped tie and khaki pants. He had a nametag on that said, "Norm Jordan, Hotel Manager." Big whoop, Tom thought. So they know the manager.

"Good evening, Mr. Echols," Norm said to Tom. "We're so happy you decided to stay with us."

That was awfully friendly, Tom had to admit, so he thanked Norm.

"I always give new guests a tour of our facilities. May I?"

Tom thought, what, the video game room and the hot tub? What a bunch of crap. But at least he wouldn't have to talk to Harry and Dick during that time. So he agreed.

"Right this way, sir," Norm said. Strangely, Harry and Dick followed, smiling oddly.

They got into a secluded elevator and Tom noticed three buttons that weren't on his room elevator – B1, B2 and B3. Three basements. Norm pushed B3. Tom smirked. I'm going to see the boiler room, I guess.

No. No he wasn't.

When they stepped off the elevator, Tom smelled the aromas that Norm had inhaled with pleasure earlier that evening. He knew they were familiar, but he couldn't place them. Not unpleasant. Just not identifiable.

Then he heard the sounds. Squealing. Gasping. Moaning. Even screaming. Were they showing a video down there or something?

"I think the best place to begin is in the Daddy room," Norm said. "For the pleasure of our guests who are attracted to the notion, we've 'recruited' several local, pretty, 18- and 19-year-old sissies who want Daddies."

Before Tom could process the enormity of that huge concept, Norm opened the door and Tom saw a large, bright, clean and comfortable room with lovely furnishings. There were at least ten deliciously pretty, slim, young girls wearing very little except dresses so short that they ended just below their waists, very high heels, silky stockings, garter belts, pink panties and bras. The girls' faces were expertly made up and each was cute and sweet. And randy.

And each girl had a stiff little cock either in or out of her challenged panties.

Worse, there were several middle-aged men sitting in different parts of the room. Each had his pants down or off. Some of the men had a sissy on their laps and were stroking their girls' little peenies as they kissed them. The girls were giving their "Daddies" world-class handjobs as they tongued their Daddies' open mouths. One Daddy was getting a four-star blowjob from a kneeling, worshipping sissy, whose bare bottom and swaying little ballbag were waving at a stunned Tom.

Seeing the men, three unattached sissies squealed "Daddy!!!!" and minced on towering heels to the door to greet Harry, Dick and a shocked Tom.

Norm assessed the situation. Tom knew absolutely nothing. Why didn't his colleagues at least warn him? Norm would never understand that aspect of customers. They always wanted to shock their friends when they brought them to his hotel.

"Mr. Echols, are you all right? We can leave if you wish, sir."

Tom was in shock, but at least he knew why his colleagues picked this place. Harry and Dick were faggots! Tom tried to be disgusted, but the only thing he got was hard.

"No, it's OK," he mumbled. More curious than disgusted, he asked, "Is there more on the tour? I mean we can come back here later if we want, right?"

"Of course, sir," Norm said.

Harry and Dick knew that there would be no exposure of their peccadilloes to the bosses because Tom wanted to see more. Didn't they always?

"Come back, later, Daddy!" the girls said as the quartet moved out of the room.

They walked down the hall to a room completely unlike the last one.

It was dark and dank. The walls were filled with paddles, short whips and <gasp> large, thick dildos.

Tom was a little scared when they went in, but Dick acted very strangely. He was wary and nervous. Then Tom saw why. A forty-something, very hairy, muscular man in a black outfit emerged from an unseen door. Dick stiffened.

"Ah, Nancy," the man said. "You come for your well-deserved punishment. Are these new slaves?"

Dick flung himself flat on the floor, kissed the man's feet and said, "No Master. Only this worthless sissy is here to serve you this evening."

Well. That just about blew Tom away. More so than the first room, even. Dick was always so butch and self-confident. What was this "master" crap? And "Nancy?"

"It displeases me that you show yourself to me in your male attire, Nancy. You will receive 60 tonight instead of your usual 50. Now go get dressed."

"Yes, Master," Dick said, then humbly crawled out of a side door.

Dick was crying, Tom noticed. And Dick's cock was almost ripping his pants.

Wow.

Tom followed Harry and Norm out of the room. Quickly.

"Does Dick always go to that guy?" Tom asked.

"Usually on the first night we're here," Harry said. "He adores what that man does to him, but the welts have to heal before he goes home."

Welts?

"Does Dick really dress up as a woman?" Tom asked.

Norm and Harry looked at Tom as if he were a space invader. But they answered him factually. "Dick dresses much sluttier than the girls in the Daddy room," Harry said. "The sluttier he looks, the harder Bruno beats his ass. Dick loves Bruno and Bruno loves Dick. They always end up with Bruno on top of Dick fucking his sore ass. But only on Mondays."

Yeah, right. Welts.

Tom's head was spinning. The next room loomed. Did he want to see it or should he bolt, check out, and head for the Motel Six? Tom was pretty sure that his Johnson wouldn't be nearly as stiff at any other hotel, even if they left the light on for you. Plus, he was curious. He wasn't gay or anything like Dick and Harry obviously were. But he was curious.

Norm continued the tour. "Gentlemen, this is our 'light bondage' room, as opposed to the 'heavy bondage' room we just left."

Norm didn't have to say much. Tom could sort of figure things out.

Guys in make-up and lingerie (most were in stockings, heels and baby dolls) were tied up with satin hankies or thin ropes. Most were on their backs, tied to bedposts. Or on their stomachs, tied similarly.

Tom shuddered as he saw the hotel guests' helplessness. Some had ball gags. Others had satin gags. Some preferred no gags. The situation seemed to be dictated by the "victim."

There were 12 beds scattered around the very large room, as well as chains attached to walls, and even a sawhorse or two for the truly adventurous.

Nearest to Tom was a pretty young man lying on his back. His pink nightie was pulled up to his waist and his thick cock and large balls were exposed and throbbing. He had pretty pink stockings on, as well as strappy pink sandals with a thin, five-inch heel. He was completely restrained, so that he was only able to move an inch or two in any direction. His mouth was free, but he was silent. His eyes showed a compelling combination of fear and lust.

Tom also recognized a businessman who had been in the lobby when they were checking in, less than an hour ago. The man looked quite different from how he had been in the lobby. For one thing, the man was quite naked. Tom noted absently that the man's cock was smaller than the "girl's," but that really didn't matter. The man was in charge.

He was driving the sissy wild by kissing "her" nipples as he stroked her cock. She was whimpering and struggling against her bonds. She said "No. No. Let me go, you beast."

The man paid no attention. Instead, he produced a small bottle of lubricant and began to rub it on three of his fingers.

"No!!!!" she screamed. "No!!!!!! You're not going to fingerfuck me, you brute. I won't allow it."

Of course the man proceeded to do just that, licking her nipples as he was running his thick fingers in and out of her tiny pootie. She cried and screamed and begged for him to stop. Then she locked eyes with Tom and said, "You! Please make him stop. Let me loose. Help me, please!!!!"

Tom was moved. He looked at Norm and Harry who weren't doing anything. Why weren't they?

Norm noted Tom's agitation. "It's all right, Mr. Echols,' Norm said. "It's all part of the game. If Kimberley wanted Ralph to stop, she would only have to say her 'safe word' and Ralph would stop immediately and untie her. Kimberley's having the time of her life, see?"

Tom looked at "Kimberley" just in time to see her spraying thick ropes of cum all over her stomach and chest. Then Ralph climbed on top of her to kiss her, then feed her his cock. Which she licked and sucked with intense enthusiasm.

"Safe word," Tom said to Norm. "What a concept. What's the word?"

"Everyone chooses his or her own," Norm said. "Though most here use a word not used in polite conversation, like 'Rumpelstiltskin.'"

Good choice, Tom thought. He wasn't sure if that whole helplessness and submission stuff appealed to him. But the people involved seemed to be having a pretty good time.

"Next room?" Norm asked.

Why not? Tom decided.

Harry said, "I'm going to leave the tour. Tom. I'm going up to B2 for a girlish makeover, then to the lounge on B1 for some flirting. In case you didn't notice, B3 is the unusual stuff. B2 is where we get girlied up. B1 is a big social hall with drinks and dancing and a lot of matchups for the night."

"True enough," Norm said. "I'll just show you one more room and then we can talk about what you would like to do. If anything."

<Gulp> "OK," Tom agreed.

The last "odd" room was, perhaps, the oddest. Seven or eight hotel guests were dressed as young girls. Really young girls. In party dresses, petticoats, crinolines, bare legs, frilly socks and Mary Janes. There were close to an equal number of guests still dressed as men and they were showing the "little girls" quite a good time. Some girls were sitting on Daddy's lap, kissing him as they stroked Daddy's exposed cock and Daddy fondled them with his hand in their panties. Other Daddies had their "girls" on their backs with their legs in the air. Those daddies were plowing their girls' "pussies" quite purposefully. And the girls were squealing out their enjoyment.

Norm and Tom didn't stay long in that room.

As they strolled to the elevator, Norm asked a very agitated Tom, "Any preferences?"

Tom gulped again. "Could I go back to the first room?"

Norm smiled. "You want to be a Daddy for a pretty young sissy?"

OH!! Did he!

"Uh…yes. Is that OK? Are there any free? I don't mean free. I mean available. I'll pay if I need to."

Norm smiled. "Sir, there's a surcharge for 'entertainment' on the room -- $125 per day. There are no other charges. Please, sir. Enjoy yourself at City Hotel."

Norm led Tom to the door of the first room and opened it for Tom.

Tom sighed and passed a door into a new life.

Chapter Three – Staff sissy

To say that Megan Brennan was eager to please would be like saying that Chicago Cub fans are masochists. Megan was frantic to please and be pleased by a loving Daddy.

At work, she was dull old Ronnie, a schmoey, male, video-store manager. Two or three nights a week, when she got off work, she was Megan –super sissy and pleaser of daddies at the City Hotel.

Her own Daddy was not nice to her, ever since she was 14 and he caught her in bed with the paperboy, sucking his cock. She was wearing one of Mom's pink nighties and Mom's red lipstick and she looked so hot that Jake, the paperboy, creamed his pants when he saw her. Then twice more when she sucked out his twinkie's cream filling. Daddy caught them just as she was cleaning Jake's cock off tidily with her tongue. Daddy had raged and kicked Jake in the bare bottom, throwing the naked boy out the front door in broad daylight. Daddy didn't care. Then Daddy beat Megan's bare bottom hard. No pleasure to it. Just pain.

The worst was that night when Mom and Daddy had an awful fight. Mom defended Megan and Daddy struck her. Daddy was sorry after, but Mom kicked him out of the house and Megan and Mom never saw him again. That was sad, but Mom remained supportive of Megan all through school. And her torrid, but brief love affairs with boys and men. Megan was taking hormones now that she was 18 and soon Ronnie would disappear forever.

The day after her 18^th birthday, Megan started going to the "Daddy" room at the City Hotel. Everyone in Fromage knew about it. Lots of locals would stay there overnight, especially on weekends. It was fun!

Megan was probably looking for the Daddy who rejected her. That was what the manager, Norm Jordan, said when he "interviewed" Megan for a "position" in the "Daddy" room. Mr. Jordan alone was worth the experience. He was a skilled and giving lover and assured Megan that the Daddies she would meet at the hotel would be cut from the same cloth as he was or would no longer be welcome.

Mr. Jordan was right. Two or three nights a week, the little angel would report at 3 p.m. for a thorough salon makeover. Hair, nails, facials, make-up. Wow! Megan looked so hot. The lingerie they lent her excited her too. She loved the lacy training bras they hooked over her budding breasts. The silky fabric caressed her big, dark nipples and the sensitive, expanding flesh under them. The panties were incredible. The friction of pure, decadent silk against her tiny sissy wee and her pretty, pink bag of jewels. Megan often needed fresh panties, even before the daddies arrived from their long workdays. Megan adored sheer, silky stockings, especially tan stockings with seams. Strappy sandals with "bad-girl" five-inch stiletto heels. And a ruffly white garter belt, the thought of which stirred her sissy testicles.

The dresses the "girls" in the Daddy room wore were very naughty. The kind girls wear to birthday parties until they're ten. But much shorter. So short, they showed a girl's entire panties, stocking tops and garters. So short, they revealed the girl's tenting of her panties when she saw a handsome Daddy.

Megan loved the outfit.

The Daddies loved Megan. In the four months since she had turned 18, Megan had entertained 30 Daddies, some more than once. Mostly she just played tickles with a man in the Daddy room. Sitting on his naked lap. Gasping and panting as the Daddy praised her beauty while kissing her and wanking her popsy.

Sometimes she went upstairs and spent the evening with a Daddy in his room, but she went home by midnight. Once she spent the whole night with a very nice Daddy. Right after that, his company transferred him to an account outside of Fromage. Megan and the Daddy were heartbroken. But Megan made new friends easily.

That Monday night, Megan worked an afternoon shift at the video store and didn't arrive for her makeover until 5 p.m. That meant she wouldn't get to the room until 7, which meant that all the good daddies would probably be gone. She almost ditched the idea, trading the possibility of carnal ecstasy for the sure thing of her couch, hot tea and bad sitcoms.

Later, Megan was very glad she didn't. So was Tom.

 

Chapter Four – Matched

As Tom and Norm stood outside the Daddy room, Tom's stomach fluttered. Norm understood that Tom was having the usual thoughts of a first-timer as City Hotel patron. Am I gay? Why did my dick petrify when I saw what I just saw? Am I gay? How did those sissies get to be so beautiful and feminine? And, am I gay?

Norm empathized with Tom. He had had the same thoughts when he first took the job. But since then, he had been pounding sissy ass during most of his free time – and he had never been happier.

Norm's only concern was that the sissies in the Daddy room, the "Pirates of the Caribbean" equivalent, at the "theme park" that he ran, had all been spoken for.

Norm's fears were realized when he and Tom entered an empty room.

Rats.

Tom was devastated. He had convinced himself that a nice, girlish sissy was exactly what he needed more than anything. Now there were none.

And then there was.

The door opened and a rushed, late Megan entered the room and saw Norm, whom she knew, and Tom, whom she didn't.

Tom gasped when he saw the radiant angel. All in pink. With white bows and ribbons and lace. A dress so short, he could see her tan stocking tops, white garter belt and pink panties. Tom could also see a tiny, pantied cock expanding into a little tent when Megan met Tom.

Megan gasped when she saw Tom. He was delicious. Middle-aged. Daddyish. Handsome. Turned on by Megan. And obviously a first-timer.

When Tom saw Megan, he flashed back to some of the naughty books he had read over the years, and some of the naughtier dreams those books had engendered.

Pretty boys – young and girlish – scantily clad, with sharp little "points" in their sissy panties. Boys with full lips and long lashes, surrendering their bodies to Tom's overwhelming masculinity. The ultimate conquest – another, lesser male. Submitting fully to your superior maleness. Tom thought of pretty boys with wet mouths, hungry for Tom's kisses and his cock. Boys with tight little boycunts, hardly concealed by their sheer, pink panties. Boys gasping with lust as Tom brought them pleasure and spewed out his own spunk again and again.

As most men do, since he was a teen, Tom had tried to reject that lovely vision, which, nevertheless, was deeply rooted in his masculine DNA.

But visions return. And they can make a man hard and primal, drawing on ancient instinct as they choke him with need. The satisfaction of a deep urge can only be accomplished in one way. And that gorgeous one-way was standing before him and calling him –

"Daddy!

"Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry I'm late. Please don't be mad at your little girl, Daddy. You can spank me if you want. I deserve it."

A spanking!!! Tom groaned internally and his cock stirred. This perfect creampuff would even submit to me that way, he thought. Tom shuddered with lust.

Norm stepped in lightly. "Well, Miss Megan, I certainly agree that your daddy should spank you. Keeping him waiting was very naughty. Perhaps you should sit on his lap and tell him all your girlish secrets. Maybe he'll forgive you. You could start by giving your Daddy a nice kiss. Goodbye everyone. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Echols. Miss Megan."

And Norm left.

Megan and Tom were alone in that big Daddy-Sissy fetish room. Together.

Megan and Tom were both quite tall. He was six-foot one and she was five-eleven. With her five-inch heels, she was three inches taller than he. Though everyone is the same size in bed.

Tom cleared his throat. He seemed about to say something, but Megan wanted to do something less verbal. So she stepped over and gave Tom the wettest, tonguiest kiss of his life. Good golly. He almost spilled his load right then.

Megan was hot! She was a fantastic kisser and Tom, once he got the hang of the situation, was pretty good himself.

When they broke the kiss, they were both panting and gasping.

Tom couldn't believe his good fortune. Neither could Megan.

Tom asked, "You're a wonderful kisser, Sweetheart. Would you like to spend some time getting to know your new Daddy? We could talk. Get to know each other."

Megan batted her eyes shyly and said, "OK, Daddy. But, Daddy?"

"Yes, Kitten?"

Megan liked that. Kitten. Like "Father Knows Best" or something. "Daddy, before we talk, I think you need to clear things out a little. Your little girl is worried that you'll injure yourself if you don't."

<Gulp> Tom knew what that meant. "OK, Pumpkin."

Megan squealed happily and seated her "Daddy" in a nice, comfy chair.

"Why don't we get comfortable, Daddy?" Megan said. And before Tom could say anything, Megan had her pretty panties off.

Getting into the spirit of things, Tom took his trousers off, then his boxers. He sat in a comfy chair and tried to control his shaking legs. Megan and Tom sneaked peeks at each other's below-the-waist nakedness. Both were pleased. Megan's teeny peeny was pink perfection and her pretty peanuts dangled delightfully in their pink bag. Tom's manly missile was only half erect, but gaining steadily. After a few moments of mutual admiration, Daddy and sissy joined each other in the chair. Shyly, Megan sat on Tom's naked lap. She giggled when she felt his prickly hairs against her bottom. Tom loved the feel of warm, feminine flesh against his own. Something a married man feels less and less frequently.

Tom drew Megan to his chest and kissed her with true ardor. To his own surprise, Tom reached for Megan's penis. The first penis, other than his own, that he had ever touched. It was very exciting to do so. Especially since Megan was enjoying Tom's penile caresses very much.

She was still kissing Tom, but she was squirming and squealing as Tom tickled her pricklet and testicles. Then suddenly, her body stiffened and she began spurting thick gobs of her fragrant, sticky cream. In high arcs and little dribbles. Oh, it was a lovely cumstorm.

Tom was enchanted by the whole proceedings. What had he been missing all his life?

When Megan's chest stopped heaving, she got on her knees and began to stroke Tom's nice, fat cock. Tom was praying he didn't cum before this feminine angel got his thing between those beautiful, glossed lips.

The little nancyboy surveyed her cylindrical treasure. Mmmmm. It looked yummy. Long and red, with a big, delicious, prominent vein. And his balls were the size of peaches. And just as juicy. She wanted to empty them again and again. All night long.

Megan held the big pole in her soft hand and squealed happily.

Geez, Tom thought. What a difference a little appreciation makes. This doll loves my cock. And she's not afraid to show it. And she's young and beautiful. With a cock of her own.

Why aren't there more hotels like this?

Megan pelted Tom's manly cylinder with soft, wet sissy kisses. Tom's wife Lucy hadn't given him a blowjob in how long? And had she ever taken the time to do it correctly like this sweet cupcake was doing. Was she running her tongue along that vein on the right side? Oh – she was! And her long, red fingernails were digging, ever so lightly into Tom's bag of treasures. She hadn't even touched the location of most male brains yet, and yet, he was desperate with need for her. Oh. Megan was kissing all over his cockhead, flicking her tongue out to give it tiny licks. Making eye contact with Tom.

Megan looked so darned happy, unlike Tom's wife Lucy, who often looked at her watch during so-called lovemaking. Tom was defenseless when Megan began swirling her tongue around and around the mushroom's sticky perimeter. He wanted to guard his cargo a while longer, but he had never been so excited in his life. Tom groaned manfully and gasped out, "I'm cumming, Megan!"

Megan smiled and licked and sucked harder. She was going to let him cum in her mouth? Or on her face? Or both. Oh, baby. It was both. A joyous, exuberant, powerful cum nor'easter. On her face. And in her mouth, which she swallowed greedily.

As Tom endured the sweet agony of a metamorphic cum, he thought absently how Megan had done several things in their first 15 minutes together that Lucy, in 12 years of marriage, had disdained. Dirty things. The best kind. The kind men adore.

Tom liked the City Hotel.

And Megan liked Tom. He seemed innocent and so…needy. As if Megan were the answer to a question he should have been asking all his life.

Megan loved making nice men happy.

Tom drew Megan to his lap and embraced her sweetly. Even he was surprised when he

kissed her, right through a faceful of his own sticky juices. He groped her privates as they kissed, a bit roughly at first, then deliciously as he settled down a smidge.

Megan kissed Tom back, opening her mouth, offering it to his penetrating tongue. Tom eagerly fed her his tongue, then gasped when she sucked it with skill and a considerable heat.

Oh. The realization slammed into Tom again, as that evil guy Mr. Shame gains strength after our orgasm. Tom was kissing another man. Was he gay? He must be because that "other man" was stroking Tom's thick cock and he was erect and thinking nasty thoughts yet again. He wanted to feel Megan's diddle. He wanted to kiss it, even. And suck her testicles. How close to the surface had those needs and feelings been all of Tom's life? He couldn't stop himself. Megan was so cute. And extraordinarily feminine.

Megan winced a little and made the cutest whimper when Tom held her closely and once again began to fondle her "little person." Sucking Tom off had excited her so that she was stiff, wet and sticky around that area. Tom seemed to like that.

They were kissing and stroking each other with mounting heat. Tom had never seen a peener that small. Not that Tom had been fishing into boys' panties for very long.

Megan just liked the feeling of being hugged and admired for her femininity. The peeny tickling was nice too. Really nice. And Tom was just the kind of guy she liked. Innocent, handsome, needy and big-cocked.

The conclusion of such delightful activity is inevitable. The sweet pantyboy's eyes got wide, she squealed cutely and her sissy cream simply leaped from her little pickle.

It was only 8:38 and Tom was having the night of his life.

 

Chapter Five – Got a Light, Sailor?

So were Dick and Harry.

Dick was on his knees, tied to a sawhorse. He was dressed in a stereotypical hooker outfit, including six-inch stiletto pumps, and silky, black, seamed stockings with reinforced heels and toes. His miniskirt was attached to the back of his blouse with clothespins and his panties were down to his knees. Dick's fleshy bottom was elevated and he was completely vulnerable to a very nasty-looking wooden paddle wielded by the aforementioned "Bruno."

It's also important to note that Dick was crying and begging for mercy (though he did not invoke his "safe word") and Dick's poor asscheeks were fiery red.

Bruno's face was expressionless, though he seemed pleased when he counted off the last strokes: "Fifty-nine….sixty. Very good, Nancy. You took the last ten, a just punishment for displeasing me earlier. You took them because you love and respect your master. You have pleased me."

Through his tears, Dick/Nancy said, "Thank you, Master."

Bruno nodded. "Tsk, tsk. Those last ten seem to have done things to Master's favorite plaything, though, Nancy. Your pretty bottom is red and very sore looking. Perhaps I won't fuck you this evening."

Nancy cried out, bawling, begging, "Oh, please fuck me, Master. Please. I beg you. Your lordly cock in my miserable bottom is my only reason for living."

Bruno smiled. "Very well. First I will apply the soothing cream. Then I will fuck you until we each cum twice. Then I will take you to my bed and tend your wounds until morning.

Dick glowed with love for his beneficent master. And shuddered at the thought of the intense, sexual bliss that lay ahead of him that night.

Meanwhile, after an hour of femming up on floor B2, Harry was walking into the lounge on B1.

Harry wouldn't scare any of the Miss America candidates, but in a dim room, with eager admirers, Harry, or Laurie as he preferred to be called, was a very popular "girl." Laurie was wearing a dark-blue cocktail dress that had, in a previous stay at the hotel, been measured, then cut to enhance her body's best feminine features. She was wearing black, seamed stockings and moved easily in black, patent-leather, four-inch-stiletto pumps.

As women had done since the discovery of tobacco, Laurie sat on a barstool, exposed as much of her long, nylon-encased legs as decent, and held a cigarette near her lips.

Four male arms reached out with lighters or matches. "A good night, indeed," Laurie thought to herself. Quickly, before the men burned themselves, Laurie surveyed her admirers. Three regulars and a newbie. Hmmm. New is good. She accepted a light from the new, hunky, young man and endured the disappointed moans from the other gentlemen. She smiled at them and said, "I'll be in Fromage all week, boys."

That seemed to lift the lads' spirits some, but then Laurie turned and ignored them, concentrating on the man who had won her heart for the evening.

Hmmm. He was dishy! Five years younger than Laurie, perhaps. She guessed 28. Tall, blond and very handsome. Laurie felt her knoblet stirring in her black, lacy panties.

"Come here often?" her glib, suave suitor asked cleverly.

"I cum every chance I get, Honey," Laurie answered. A nice icebreaker, don't you think?

Next, they exchanged names (his was Trent, or so he said) and astrological signs. Laurie would have been bored by all that, but Trent had his big, masculine hand on the inner flesh of Laurie's right thigh. Rubbing. Teasing.

He was so forward! Laurie adored forward.

The next thing she knew, they were kissing, with Trent's tongue halfway down Laurie's throat.

Eager was too mild a word for Trent. Laurie began to imagine the liberties the naughty man would take with her lingeried, perfumed body if they went to her room.

She formed a clear, picture of that. Then she breathed, "Easy, sailor. What's the rush? Are you double-parked? Why don't you come to my room and you can enjoy yourself at Laurie's all-you-can-fuck buffet?"

Trent looked as if he had been told that the Internal Revenue Service was taking him off their rolls for life.

As she left the bar, arm-in-arm with her new conquest, Laurie thought, "One of these days I'm going to have to stay in the lounge long enough to have a drink."

But who needs alcohol when you have all the ball-exploding sex you can handle?

 

Chapter Six – The First Morning After

When Tom, Dick and Harry gathered at 6:30 a.m. for breakfast on Tuesday morning, Tom was a changed man.

He didn't even act surprised when Dick stood to eat. "It's not the swats that made me too sore to sit," Dick said. "Master's huge cock was in me most of the night. Opening me. Stretching me. Filling me with his hot seed. I have three tampons in there and I'm still leaking his cum. If I stand, it doesn't seem to leak as badly. Oh, it was divine!!!!!"

Harry gave Tom a little wink, implying that he and Tom were the normal ones.

But Tom didn't feel very normal. In fact, he felt…dirty.

Dirty and astonished at his own sinful behavior. Tom had sinned lustily and eagerly. He had taken that, that pantyboy to his hotel room – the room with the telephone where he had called his dear wife and inquired about his precious children. In the hotel room he had stripped that sissyboy down to her panties, stockings and garters and kissed every square inch of the little pansy's soft, creamy skin. He had kissed and licked her nipples until she screamed and pumped thick strands of girlish sperm. Then he had <gasp> licked it all off her soft tummy. He had taken her little knoblet into his warm, wet mouth, then licked and sucked it until it was hard and throbbing and – what was her name? – Megan – was gasping and panting and then cumming into his mouth.

What had come over him? Why did he lick out Megan's "dirty place" when she eased it over his mouth? Why did he groan and almost faint with pleasure when she sat on his big, manly equipment, praising its length and girth, and extolling Tom's skill as a lover.

What skill? All he did was lie there and have the absolute, fucking time of his life as Megan squealed and pistoned her perfect bottom up and down on his stiff cock.

He drew Megan to him for some delicious kissing, which was what sent him over the edge. Hot globs of manly semen scorched Megan's inner "pussy" as she screamed with pleasure and poured out her own tribute to Venus and Eros.

That was when Tom started added up the sins he had committed – adultery, sodomy, and the capital crime of homosexuality!

Shame swept over him, covering him in a blanket of guilt. And it wasn't relieved in the least by the fact that Megan had his cock in her mouth. Cleaning it. Polishing it. Well, that sort of made a little of the shame and guilt go away. And the shame/guilt had all pretty much left the building when Megan's oral skills got him stiff enough for Megan to climb on the horsey for another ride.

And what a delightful ride it was. Thirty libido-feeding minutes and grunts and squeaks and kisses and licks and feel-ups. Megan, being younger came first. Thinner and less spectacular discharges than the last time, but the intensity almost tore her pretty head off. Then, moments before Tom jettisoned his own sticky cargo, Megan squealed and shook through a dry orgasm, the tidiest, but most life-threatening of the evening. Megan shook like a crazy person as Tom shot wad after wad of a sissy's favorite enema into his new friend's comely bottom.

When they collapsed, lying side-by-side, Megan flung herself into Tom's arms. She was crying as she said, "You drained me completely. No one's ever done that. You milked me dry. Every pantyboy's dream and you did that for me. You're the best Daddy ever!!!"

Well, who among us would not feel the least bit studly when told such "truths?"

Tom felt wonderful! For about 30 seconds. Then he started thinking about what he had done. And he felt awful.

Lesson learned for the men out there? Don't think. Just fuck.

It was a good thing Megan made the bad thoughts go away by nursing on Tom's cock until they fell asleep.

When Tom awoke, around 5 a.m., he had a raging erection. His first thought was that he knew a pretty bottom where that stiffie would find a good home. But Megan was gone!

Tom thought, well, that's good, I guess. I shouldn't have done any of those awful things and I never will again. I'll go home, confess my sins to my wife, then join a monastery, where I can repent at leisure.

Then Tom heard the toilet flush. Megan hadn't left; she was just making tinkle. When she came out of the bedroom, she saw Tom lying there, awake, on his back, big cock exposed and stiff. Megan squealed with delight, then sissy ran to the bed and jumped in. Seconds later, they were fucking as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they did.

Tom and Megan had gathered some resources while they were asleep and it was a lusty, wet and messy fuck. Followed by another in the shower. Then long, goodbye kisses as Megan left and Tom got ready for work.

The only time he felt guilty was when he wasn't fucking Megan. That should have suggested a strategy to our hero.

At breakfast, Dick and Harry were relentless in their pursuit of details about Tom's night. He didn't give many, but they got the drift that he had enjoyed his first night in the Clitty Hotel much more than they had hoped.

To draw a bit of attention from himself, Tom asked Harry about his night.

"Oh, it was a good one," Harry said. "I got femmed up, picked up a hunk named Trent in the lounge on B1 and took him back to my room. Or was it his room? To tell you the truth, I swallowed so much semen that my mind's a bit foggy."

Dick seconded that motion. "I know what you mean. Have you guys decided what you want to do tonight? I'd like to do another night with Bruno, but I don't think my bottom can take more blisters. Maybe I'll just girlie up and hit the lounge on B1."

Harry said, "I may do a turn in the fetish room tonight. Haven't decided if I want to be one of the men or the girls. I may just go as a man and have a couple girls tie me up and tease me till I'm dry."

Then Dick and Harry looked at Tom. "What about you, Tom?" Harry said.

Good question. "I don't… I mean… Maybe Megan and I…"

Dick smiled. "You can't see Miss Megan two nights in a row, my boy. She can't participate in things at the hotel two nights in a row. House rules. You need variety or you dilute the experience."

Tom's heart sank. Why did it do that? No Megan? "Maybe I'll just stay in my room and watch pay-per-view movies," Tom told his co-workers.

Harry and Dick snorted. "Yeah, right. You're new. You feel shame. It's natural. But you've already done enough to shame you for two lifetimes. Why not keep going and see where things go?"

Good point, Tom thought. Tom had little left to lose in that department.

The pancakes came and the three co-workers ate with enthusiasm and relatively clear consciences.

Tom was able to concentrate on his work that day, but just barely. It was as if he had discovered the keys to a new and magical kingdom that he could visit anytime he wanted. And be anyone he wanted to be.

 

Chapter Seven – Girlish excitement

When the three gender adventurers arrived at the hotel at 6 p.m. that Tuesday evening, Tom sped to his room to do his familial duty of calling his wife. The little woman gave Tom the usual ration about how difficult the wife had it at home without Tom around to take out the garbage and open pickle jars. Guilt, slathered on freely by a professional slatherer. But in the middle of the conversation, if it could be deemed that, Tom's wife stopped and said, suspiciously, "Something's wrong. I don't know what it is, but… Wait a minute. You sound…happy. That's so unlike you. Are you doing something you shouldn't? Who is she? Tell me!"

Well, Tom thought, it was a bit sad that his wife would see Tom's happiness as a betrayal. And that thought made him just unhappy enough that he was able to convince his wife that he was enjoying the work with Dick and Harry. He was still deeply and appropriately miserable, just as anyone who deserted his wife and children for four nights should be. But he liked the guys on the trip. Plausible denial, the only weapon a husband has in such situations, seemed to work and, after a bit more description of how awful her day had been and how rotten "his kids" were, his bride released him. To what, for the moment at least, was a far better, alternative existence.

As agreed, the trio met at the nearly empty hotel bar at 6:30. All the real activity was below decks. Though Tom needed no supervision or approval from his colleagues, he smiled when they agreed with his plan for the evening. "I'm going to be a guy and be with Megan tomorrow night," Tom said. "But for tonight, just to see, I'm going to go to B2 and see what I look like, girlied-up. Just to see. That's all."

Dick and Harry were delighted at their co-worker's newly found sense of adventure. They were reasonably sure that the evening would hold some unforeseen delights for young Tom.

Harry said, "Well, I'll get girlied up too and show you around the B1 lounge. What about you, Dick?"

Dick smirked. "I'm in. Three 'girls' on the prowl. Laurie, Nancy and …?"

Tom didn't know. What should he call himself as a girl? Then a name flashed into his head. The name of his first infatuation in the 8^th grade – "Cindy," Tom blurted.

Cindy it was. But what would it mean to be Cindy? Even for one night.

The three adventurers downed their drinks and strode to the "recreation" elevators. Now that Tom had decided to explore his Cindy side, he was eager to transform.

Harry offered Tom some excellent advice. "All men have an X chromosome, so we're all part women – half Ginger Rogers and half Fred Astaire – Gingerfred men. You can suppress it or you can let it out now and then. Don't be afraid. Just let yourself be feminine and submissive. You'll never regret it."

Still, Tom was reluctant to allow his emasculation to take place.

The City Hotel staff had helped many men like Tom explore their feminine sides. When Tom, Dick and Harry entered the "salon" on B2, the staff transformed Dick and Harry with easy familiarity, then treated Tom with dignity and compassion. And they moved quickly.

The staff appeared to be female. Very female. Though Dick and Harry had hinted to Tom that seeing didn't always mean believing. No embarrassing, difficult-to-explain changes like plucked eyebrows or pierced ears. No leg-shaving, though the staff tut-tutted when Tom refused. No pubic-hair trim either, though they did <blush> shave Tom between his bottom cheeks and around his anus.

Tom was very excited the whole time those feminine treasures worked on him. His excitement was "obvious" and the "girls'" jokes about his woodie didn't help matters any. When they eased a pair of skimpy, pink panties over his legs and across his most sensitive parts, Maggie, the staff member who seemed to be in charge of things on B2, scolded Lisa and Debbie, who were sissying Tom up so skillfully.

"Look at that condition you've left poor Miss Cindy in, ladies. Is that how we treat our hotel patrons?"

Knowing Maggie's scolding was part of the show, Lisa and Debbie giggled. Then Lisa said, "No, Miss Maggie. I'll give Miss Cindy some oral relief while Debbie helps her with her stockings on. But even with dark, black stockings, she's going to look funny with those hairy legs, Miss Maggie."

Maggie said, "Miss Cindy knows her own mind about such things. Perhaps the man she takes to bed tonight will find that attractive."

Cindy's brain screamed at her over that one. "They think a man … They think I want…"

Cindy was about to protest when her senses were assaulted along two major lines of attack. Cindy felt warm lips and a soft, wet tongue covering her glans (or cockhead to the vocabulary-challenged). And she felt silky, sheer, black stockings being eased over her right foot, then along her calf, past her knee and onto her thigh.

Oh, the caress of nylon! The soft whispers that played along his leg and the lavish licking of his knob by a very skilled, pantied, perfumed and powdered tgirl.

Where had those sensations been all his life? Why weren't there hotels like this in every city? On every street corner?

Lisa was such an excellent cocksucker – on her knees in full cocksucker mode. And Debbie was slipping the other stocking up Cindy's other leg. Maggie was saying something about Cindy paying attention to Lisa's technique so she could replicate it with a man Cindy would be sure to meet before the evening was out.

Cindy's mind recoiled at the thought of being on her knees, in full "girlie," licking and sucking a man's big cock as he told her how sweet and pretty she was. But her cock thought it was a spectacular idea. At the City Hotel, your reservations led you to no reservations.

Cindy's ears and face were hot as she thought about releasing her feminine side in the femmiest way possible. Those thoughts, the soft swish of her nylons as she rubbed her knees and thighs together, and Lisa's tonguing of Cindy's peehole made poor Cindy gasp, lurch and heave her sticky cream into Lisa's eager mouth and all over Lisa's pretty face.

Spurt after spurt was liberated from her dangling purse as Lisa gobbled Cindy's knob and swallowed her creamy nectar.

Through an orgasmic fog, Cindy stammered out a "Thank you, Lisa," then shockingly to all four tgirls present, Cindy began to sob.

Lisa was the first to speak. "I don't know why you're crying, Honey. That was an excellent blowjob. And you certainly needed it. I never saw so much cum form one girl. What's the matter?"

Cindy continued her heaving sobs, then said, "I'm a faggot! Everyone will hate me. My wife will divorce me and my kids will disown me."

Maggie, who had seen post-orgasmic guilt before said, "First of all, faggots, as the insensitive call them, are males who engage in sex. I didn't see any men here, did you, girls?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Second," Maggie continued, "what you did with Megan last night was as boy-girl as it gets, wasn't it, Cindy?"

Even in her shamed state, Cindy had to agree with that.

"Third, you're about to go to the B1 lounge, find a man and let him make cummy love to you all night. But it's Cindy who'll be taking that big salami in her pussy, not Tom. It's an exploration of your feminine side. Get it?"

Cindy got it. She nodded and stopped weeping. Though she shuddered at the thought of a man pushing his thing in and out of her. Maggie's logic had its flaws, but, as they say, it's whatever gets you through the night.

Maggie nodded. "Good. Now let's get you into this pretty minidress, touch up your make-up, put this long, straight, blond wig on you, show you how good you look, and release you to the world. I'm sure you know that you don't even have to kiss these guys. It's up to you. They'll know you're new at this from your one-inch heels, so they should be gentle. And they all know that 'no' means 'no.' Anyone who violates that is banned from the hotel, which is a death sentence to a tgirl lover in this town."

OK then.

A little touchup, the mandatory scene where the newly turned-out girl sees herself in the mirror for the first time and swoons in girlish excitement, and the games can begin.

Cindy joined Nancy and Laurie and all three ooohed and aaaahed at each other's girlish attractiveness.

Without Nancy and Laurie's support, Cindy would have checked out of the City Hotel and slept in a cardboard box under an overpass. But with one pretty helper on either side of her, Cindy entered the B1 lounge.

And looked around.

Hmmm.

It looked pretty much like any other bar that catered to grown-ups. No wide-screen TV or foosball tables. Cindy took a shy look at the clientele and blushed when she realized that she was happy to see several more men than "women."

Laurie, for whom most of her nights in the hotel began at the lounge, knew the drill. She pulled out a cigarette and drew an eager clutch of men with lighters. Which was also the perfect icebreaker for the men to introduce themselves to Laurie's pretty companions.

Cindy was very shy, barely lifting her eyes to the men who were chatting her up. She had to admit, though, that it was very exciting to be the object of such lustful attention. Her cock was stiff and drippy. Tenting her pink panties and <blush> even her dress. The men were too gentlemanly to mention it, but they liked the fact that Cindy was enjoying the attention.

Cindy eased from her shell and found that she enjoyed the conversation most with a slim, tall, handsome man of about 35 years. The others noticed the connection and backed off, leaving Cindy and her new swain, Jeremy, to themselves.

Like Cindy, Jeremy Quinn was married. Unlike Cindy, Jeremy was Fromage-born and Fromage-bred. And unlike Cindy, Jeremy had no interest in slipping into panties, stockings and heels. He just adored those who did.

As a Fromage boy, Jeremy had observed the sissy culture at close range all his life. Fromage is, of course, the world headquarters for Panty Boy magazine and Spermco. Its suburb, Shady Rest, is known to the world as Panty Town. And the Shady Rest Mall is the first in America to offer sissy milking stations, a vital service to a critically important segment of society.

So Jeremy had been around sissies all his life. And each encounter stiffened his well-proportioned penis.

Like most sissy admirers, Jeremy had married a genetic woman and procreated. But even Jeremy's wife realized that he needed two or three nights "out" each month at the City Hotel.

Jeremy always felt better when he emptied his testicles into a sissy's pretty, girlish bottom. And he was always able to resume his life as a husband and father with no regrets and with full attention to his "mainstream" life.

Being paired up with a man, while Laurie and Nancy were drifting out of the lounge with their carnal partners for the evening, was making Cindy nervous. Jeremy did everything he could to set her at ease.

"He's being nice to me because he wants to fuck me," Cindy said to herself. But the more she thought about it, it was the first time anyone had been nice to her (or Tom) for reasons of proposed fornication. Tom had always been the supplicant. Women had been the ones in command of the fucking decisions.

Cindy liked being in command. And she had made her command decision.

"I've never been with a man, Jeremy," she gulped. "But I think I'd like to get to know you better."

For the first time, Jeremy was the one who looked nervous. "Good," Cindy thought. "I've done my part. I said 'yes,' or at least 'maybe.' The rest is up to the man. What a nice feeling."

Cindy's nice feelings were only beginning.

She couldn't believe how exciting it was just to walk with Jeremy to the elevator. She could feel her dangling balls rubbing against the silky crotch of her dainty panties. The front of her panties was rubbing oh-so-sweetly against her exposed, tender knoblet, putting her more closely "on the verge" with every step. How did women walk around in that gear all day without cumming constantly?

Jeremy sensed Cindy's growing excitement and multiplied it by giving her a soft rub/pat on the bottom as they entered the elevator. Cindy shuddered with lust.

When the elevator door closed, Jeremy used the oldest, yet most effective line known to man. "You're so beautiful."

And then he kissed her.

A tidal wave of "gay guilt" slammed into Cindy, then passed into only a bitter memory.

Jeremy laid a proper liplock on his pretty "date's" glossed lips. And Cindy melted with every molecule of her feminine side.

Kissing, tonguing.

So good.

Cindy and Jeremy kissed and pawed each other all the way down the hall to Cindy's room. They somehow managed to find the key and the fun began in earnest.

Great fun.

The kind of fun you can only have as a girl.

The fun you get from being a true sex object – your body a playground for a rampaging man.

Jeremy, who had been in this situation several times before, knew what to say and do to make a "new girl" comfortable. Comfortable enough to submit to a nice, long pussy-fingering. Comfortable enough to suck Jeremy's cock.

Jeremy knew that this particular "new girl" was going to suck his cock. Surrendering her masculinity to Jeremy. Letting Jeremy dominate her in a way a man adores.

Some men like dominating other men in business or athletics. But Jeremy knew that the ultimate dominance was to put another man in panties and set him on his stockinged knees to suck your cock.

Jeremy laid Cindy on her back on the king-sized bed.

Oh.

She was alone in her room with a man. A man who was probably thinking about fucking her. Lubing up his thick cock and pushing it into her. No way Cindy wanted that. No way. She would just say "no."

Norm Johnson had made it clear to everyone that "no" meant "no." That was very nice, Cindy thought, because she could select the things she wanted to experience and reject the others. Fucking was clearly out. No man was sticking his cock in her pretty bottom. Cindy wasn't even sure what she was doing in bed with a man anyway. She was sort of disoriented. The permissiveness, the "Hollywood values" of this darned hotel, was making her consider things that, two days earlier, she would have rejected immediately and emphatically. "I won't suck his cock," the part of Cindy's brain that was, at that moment, still Tom, thought. "It's icky and humiliating. And no one is putting his cock in my bottom. I'll let him kiss me a little. And feel me up. It feels so good to be felt up when you're wearing stockings and pretty panties. And it's fun to kiss someone, even <blush> a man, when you're wearing lipstick. But that's all! What is he doing now? He's stroking my peeny through my panties! Ohh. That's nice. Why is licking three of his fingers? Why is he putting his hand into my panties? Ohhhhh. He shouldn't be putting his fingers in me 'back there.' It's so rude and so..,emasculating to be handled by a man like that. But it feels so…..Uhhh. That's so nice the way he rubs those fingers in me while he's kissing me. Oh…good golly, Miss Molly. What's he rubbing? Why does it feel so good? "

Cindy surrendered.

She didn't plan on it. She didn't think it would ever happen. But she surrendered. To her new-found femininity. To her girlish excitement. To the incredible, erotic sensations she felt as Jeremy kissed her as he massaged her prostate. Was such pleasure possible? Tom had never felt anything half as good in his intimacy with his wife. Cindy wanted more.

Jeremy had swallowed Cindy's tongue. The poor "new girl's" panties were down below her garter straps and she was gasping and panting her way to a freight-train orgasm as Jeremy wiggled his rude digits deep within Cindy's secret place.

How did he know just the right way to rub a girl like that? Was this what sex as a "girl" was like?

Cindy liked it.

She especially liked when Jeremy used his other hand to unbutton Cindy's blouse and expose her right nipple. No one had ever paid the least bit of attention to Cindy's nipples.

Jeremy paid attention. The little nub was rock hard and stiff as a tiny prick.

Jeremy took the pretty point between his teeth and gave it a small lovebite. Which took Cindy completely by surprise. And was that "little extra" that pushed her off Cum Cliff.

Falling.

Squealing.

Pumping hot globs of cum in long arcs from her straining pricklet.

Balls hurling their sticky treasures into free air.

Spurt after creamy spurt.

Ridding Cindy's body of its mannish toxins.

Filling her with the agony of pleasure.

Changing Cindy (and Tom) in ways she could hardly imagine.

Cindy's chest heaved.

She was terrified of her feelings.

Vaguely regretful of what she had done.

And certain of only two things.

She had just had the best orgasm of her life.

She was not sucking Jeremy's cock.

Sucking cock was icky bad.

Something a gay man would do.

Something Tom's wife didn't do for him and Cindy wasn't about to do for any man. Especially one she had just met.

Even though he WAS awfully nice.

And he had made Cindy feel good.

Very good.

The best Cindy had ever felt.

Jeremy had put a lot of effort into pleasing Cindy too.

You don't just put your fingers into ANYONE'S pootie. That's something you do for someone you really like.

So Jeremy must really like Cindy.

Jeremy had told Cindy how beautiful she was. And he kissed her so nicely. Jeremy was an excellent spit swapper.

That was all very nice.

Jeremy deserved something in return.

Cindy didn't want to be rude.

A full ball bag can be very painful. And Cindy was pretty sure that Jeremy's bag was brimming with sticky juices.

Maybe Cindy should just take a look at Jeremy's cock. Rub it a little. Pay Jeremy back for a good turn. No cocksucking. Just rubbing.

But if Cindy was going to be a girl for Jeremy, there were proprieties to observe. So she got down on her knees, then ripped down Jeremy's zipper. Fishing for his cock.

Cindy found it. And pulled it out. Let it breathe free air. Admired it. Gasped at its size and girth. Locked eyes with Jeremy. Licked her glossed lips. Decided on the best course of action.

Perhaps Cindy would stand up, say goodnight and head back to her room to watch the latest episode of "NYPD Blue." Perhaps not.

The part of Tom that was still peeking out from Cindy was humiliated. On one's knees, in stockings, with panties down, observing and stroking a man's rampant cock is not a very manly position. But Cindy was enjoying herself very much.

Cindy let herself surrender to her feminine side and kissed the drooling head of Jeremy's substantial cock.

Jeremy groaned. "Oh, Baby," he said.

Cindy glowed with pride. "He called me 'baby,'" she thought. He thinks I'm pretty and sexy. And I'm exciting him."

That made Cindy very, very excited. And eager to get on with a proper cocksucking.

Once she began, it was all very easy. And enjoyable. A lick here. A caress there. A proper bathing of the hairy balls with one's tongue. Second nature to us all, really. And lots of fun.

Instinct directed Cindy's fellatric activities and her instincts were very good indeed.

Jeremy certainly thought so. "That's perfect, Baby," he said. "What a good cocksucker you are. The best."

Cindy glowed with self-satisfaction. "I'm a good fellatrix," she thought. Clearly, it was a skill in which one could take great pride. A lost art among many cultures, but highly respected by men indigenous to North America, Europe and other moderate climates.

"I'm making someone happy again," Cindy thought. "Just like last night." That was two more times than she had made anyone happy since Tom's honeymoon.

Cindy pressed on – licking, sucking – even making tiny lovebites on Jeremy's retracted foreskin. Doing all the things Tom wished his wife would do for him. Between complaining about the children, the home and Tom's meager paycheck.

Well, someone was going to get the accumulated wisdom of Cindy and Tom. A big, sloppy dose of wisdom, all over that weeping, pink glans of Jeremy's.

Just to be sure that Jeremy remembered who the world's-least-experienced-but-nevertheless-best cocksucker was, Cindy gave Jeremy's swollen balls a proper tongue bath. The hairs tickled Cindy's tongue and some got in her teeth, but it was a lot like eating pussy, which Tom enjoyed, but his wife seemed to never have interest in anymore.

Oh, well. One eats what's on one's plate. And Cindy's was stuffed with a big, swollen testicle.

When Jeremy started to make those little grunts that signal the first twinge, then the second twinge, then the all-important twinge of no-return, she knew that she had to make a decision. Would it be a) walk away, leaving Jeremy's balls blue, b) stroke the erupting meatstick as she aimed the cum at some distant object, such as the room's television, c) <blush> commit the horrific, emasculating act of capping the spurting cock with her lipsticked mouth, swallowing the big globs of manly juices -- an act of startling degradation, or d) allow her face to be used as a receptacle for several thick, hot strands of sticky cream, allowing herself the ultimate humiliation as a sex object for a man's disgusting desires.

Figuring that was an excellent set of choices, Cindy chose both c and d. She took the first two huge spurts in her wet mouth, gulping the creamy juices down as quickly as she could. Then she accepted four more hot blasts all over her pretty face.

It was a fiesta of emasculation, humiliation and degradation.

And Cindy loved it.

Who wouldn't?

Jeremy loved it too. It was moments like that that make the life of a sissy admirer worth living. He had introduced a lovely, feminine person to the joys of sexual submission to a man.

Had he been a cad, which he was not, Jeremy would have taken further advantage of Cindy – flipping her over and fucking her virginal bottom raw.

He considered cadness or caddity or caddiness, or whatever it was, but decided that he would return the lovely favor Cindy had just given him, then leave her to digest what had happened to her. And what she had swallowed.

Jeremy knew that it's better for the man "instructing" the new sissy to keep her highly excited, but not allowing too many orgasms. Once the sissy has spurted her gooies, or perhaps the second time she does so, she is often beset by shame and guilt. Which is the admirer's signal to go home to his wife and deliver his next stiffie into the spousal vagina.

But Cindy was ready for pretty much anything when he laid her on her back, gave her a big, cummy kiss, entered her "pussy" once again, with two inquiring fingers, insinuating them in all the best spots.

As Jeremy massaged her prostate, Cindy was frantic with lust. Jeremy took her pink knoblet between his lips, kissing it sweetly as he probed the peehole with his tongue. Pleasure squared!!! Her little popsy was twitching and she was pretty sure she would cum at any moment. She was right. But as Jeremy took her places she had never dreamed existed, Cindy considered letting Jeremy fuck her. Then she began to worry that Jeremy would not fuck her, as horrible and degrading such an act would be … to a man like Tom. A picture formed in Cindy's mind of Jeremy on top of her, pushing his big cock into her, heaving, grunting.

That was all it took. She squealed with a voice that was completely unfamiliar to her. A voice from her X chromosome. And she pumped scalding cum out of her cock into Jeremy's welcoming mouth. It was phenomenally good!

Then it was phenomenally bad. As the last dribbles of cum drooled out of Cindy's peehole, she began to feel remorse for her perversions. She was Tom! A man! What had just happened and who was this rude, presumptuous …person…in bed with her?

Her eyes conveyed first discomfort, then anxiety, then panic. Jeremy understood. He kissed her quickly on the lips, began to dress, and said, "It's OK, honey. You'll be fine in an hour and you'll wish I had stayed. I'll look you up the next time I'm at the hotel. You're very sweet and beautiful and I had a great time. By the looks of that six-alarm cumstorm you just drenched me with, you had a good time too."

And Jeremy left.

The arrogant SOB!

Cindy was angry. Then ashamed. She cried real tears. She vowed to check out of the City Hotel the next day – never to return.

Then, as Jeremy predicted, 65 minutes after she had emptied her balls, Cindy began to remember the recent events fondly. Giggling nervously and girlishly at what she had done. Then ticked at herself for giving Jeremy the boot. He should still be there, fucking her bottom, like in the dream, she thought.

Then Cindy had the best insight of all. "This girl stuff takes practice."

So true.

And the City Hotel is the place to gain experience.

 

Chapter Eight – Sex and the City Hotel

Cindy awoke on Wednesday morning refreshed and ready for the new day. She had slept in the silky nightie she found in her drawer. And she felt femmier than she had ever felt in her life.

Something good was going to happen to Cindy that day. She was sure of it. But first, she had to masquerade as Tom, then spend another yucky day with Dick and Harry slogging through the client's problems.

Cindy transformed to Tom, then joined Dick and Harry for breakfast at the hotel coffee shop.

Tom looked around the full room, checking out all the smiles and chatter – so unusual for a business hotel, where men are usually grim and touchy.

It's amazing what frequent emptying of the testicular sack can do for a man's state of mind.

Dick and Harry were, as usual, full of themselves. Speaking about Laurie and Nancy in the third person and describing their carnal adventures of the previous evening.

"Rodney was so masterful," Dick tittered. "And he fucked 'Nancy's' tight bottom three times before she sucked him off. 'Nancy' came four times herself, just from getting her pretty ass pounded."

Harry smiled. "Laurie is such a slut. <Giggle> My friend Laurie is more of a lady. She insisted on sucking down her date's first thick, creamy cum before he fucked her pootie. Three times!"

They laughed a bit, then Harry asked Tom, "So are you 'sitting funny' today, Tom? Did Cindy get a big prick in her tiny hole last night?"

Tom actually blushed, then said, "No. Cindy was too scared. But Cindy did suck her first cock and get hers sucked as well."

Dick and Harry understood perfectly. "It's OK, Honey," Dick said. "It's a big step. But I'll bet Cindy's itching for a big cock inside her about now, isn't she?"

Tom considered that for a moment, then said, "Yes. Yes, she is. A big cock in Cindy's bottom would be wonderful. I think she would like one of those this evening"

Alas, that wish was not to come true. Not that evening, anyway.

That afternoon, the three adventurous men's evil client decided that Tom, not Dick and Harry, needed to stay late and finish a portion of the project. Very late.

Poor Tom was beside himself for two reasons. First, that night he was getting no sex. At a place where everyone seemed to get all they wanted. Second, Dick and Harry WERE getting sex. All they could eat, drink and swallow.

When a hugely disappointed Tom dragged himself into the lobby of the City Hotel at 10 p.m., Norm Jordan felt Tom's pain.

"We missed you tonight, Mr. Echols," Norm said. "I'm so sorry you had to work."

Not half as sorry as I am, Tom thought. "Thank you," he told Norm. "I guess I'll just turn in early tonight."

"A good plan, Mr. Echols," Norm said. "There's always tomorrow night and the nights thereafter. Oh, and here's a little something that could help you sleep."

Norm handed Tom a brown envelope. It felt as if a magazine or something was in it. Probably so I can jerk off to it, Tom thought. Small comfort, but still a kind gesture. Tom thanked Norm, then slogged off to his room.

Tom undressed, hung up his clothes, used the bathroom, then lay naked on his bed. He opened the envelope and saw an oversized comic book. What the….? It was just line drawings, but skillfully done by an artist named "Teri." The publisher was someone called "Spermco."

It was called "Uncle's Favorite Niece" and the cover showed a naked, burly, manly man in his late forties and his alleged "niece," a barely-18-year-old boy wearing only stockings, high heels and a garter belt. The "niece" was sitting on uncle's hairy thigh and they were kissing deeply, tongues entwined. The uncle's cock, which was encircled by the boy's sweet hand was madly spurting thick jets of cum. The uncle was stirring the boy's tiny testicle bag as the boy shot his creamy treasure into free air.

Tom erected.

Now this was interesting.

If that was the cover, what was on the inside?

Eager to find out, Tom turned the page.

Uncle was sitting in a La-Z-Boy lounger in his boxers. His cock was erect and dripping as he stroked it while reading a girlie magazine. The doorbell was ringing. Uncle went to the door, leaving his cock in an erect state, sticking from his boxers. (Obviously neither a slave to fashion or convention.) There at his door was a girlish, though boyishly dressed young man. The little wimp was carrying a small suitcase and was crying, probably because of the large note that his mother had pinned to his chest: "Dear brother," it said. "Please feminize young Timmy for me. He's such a bother and he really needs to learn how to serve a man's disgusting needs. Your sister, Ginny."

Oh my.

Tom read on as his balls began to ache a little. Tom was at the stage he wasn't sure if he wanted to be Timmy or Timmy's uncle. He knew for sure only that he did not want to be Ginny.

On the next page, Tom saw that Timmy had done two things: unpacked his bag to reveal all manner of feminine folderol and, on Uncle's orders, stripped naked. His teeny peeny was drooping in fear. He was crying. Uncle was erect and having the time of his life.

"No one's going to hurt you, Timmy," Uncle said. "I'm only going to love you and give you what you really want. Now come sit on my lap and tell me all your problems."

The pretty young man complied reluctantly, though his growing interest in his rampant Uncle was evident by his stiffening popsy.

Tom knew good porn (a rare commodity indeed) when he saw it, and he was getting very excited. Just as he was about to turn the page, the telephone rang.

Damn.

Tom had forgotten to call his wife. That happened sometimes and sometimes she didn't mind. But sometimes she used it as a reason to lay an extra ration of crap on his plate.

Either way, Tom had to answer the phone.

Thank goodness she couldn't see him in his erect state with a very dirty book in his paw.

Tom picked up the receiver. And was surprised.

It was Norm Johnson, not Tom's wife.

"Mr. Echols, sorry to bother you, but I forgot to tell you. I called your wife earlier this evening to tell her you were working late. She was quite pleased that I called."

Wow, Tom thought. That was service. Now let me get back to my literature.

But Norm pressed on. "One other thing. I was wondering if you could take care of something for me. Someone you'll want to meet has a task for you and will appear at your door five seconds after we hang up. Don't get dressed. Just answer the door. His safe word, as it is for most of us here, is 'Rumpelstiltskin.' Have a great evening!" <click>

What? Who? Rumple-fucking-what?"

True to what Norm said, there was a knock on the door.

Against his better judgment (a strategy Tom had employed since Monday morning) Tom padded naked to the door and opened it.

And there he was. A beautiful, sniveling, barely 18-year-old young man carrying a small suitcase and wearing a note pinned to his chest. "Dear brother," it said. "Please feminize young Timmy for me. He's such a bother and he really needs to learn how to serve a man's disgusting needs. Your sister, Ginny."

Why don't all hotels offer great room service like that?

Tom told "Timmy" to come in.

Then Tom quickly reviewed what had happened in the few pages that he had read. Should he replicate that, or just wing it? Should he tell Timmy to go into the bathroom while Tom read the rest of the book for pointers? Should he thank "Timmy" and send him home. Should he just say Rumpelstiltskin himself and get a good night's sleep?

Oh, what the heck.

"Timmy, it's about time you surrendered to your true nature," Tom said. "And to me. Get those clothes off, empty your bag and put on the lipstick and babydoll nightie that I'm sure your mother packed. Then get over here, sit on my lap, and we'll begin your education."

"Yes, Uncle," Timmy whimpered exquisitely.

Tom was enjoying the role of male seducer every bit as much as he had enjoyed his night as seductress. Only at the City Hotel could a person explore the full spectrum of one's sexuality.

Timmy was enjoying himself immensely as well. His little peeny was stiff and drippy as he disrobed in full view of his lusty "uncle" for the evening.

Timmy loved playing "The Reluctant Nephew" at the City Hotel. It was so sweet of Mr. Jordan to introduce Timmy to so many nice men. Of course, Timmy had made sure that Mr. Jordan had received some sweet kisses and other forms of thanks. Messy forms of thanks. But very satisfying to them both.

Mr. Jordan had told Timmy that they were going to play "Battleships" – what he called, "a navel engagement with considerable loss of semen." It was a great game, with lots of delicious fun. But he liked "The Reluctant Nephew" best.

Timmy wasn't sure why he enjoyed the game so much. By day he was a freshman at Fromage University. By night, he lived out the dreams he had always envisioned with his real Uncle Randall.

When he was in high school, Timmy would lie in his twin bed, under the Central Fromage High Fighting Cheddars pennant and dream about being feminized by Uncle Randall.

Uncle Randall!

Timmy's mother's sister's husband, so not really related to him in that icky, incest way.

Not that it would have mattered to an overheated young sissy like Timmy.

No one knew about Timmy's forays into his older sister Maggie's panty drawer. Or even naughtier, into her aroma-filled laundry hamper.

Timmy would often come home from school to an empty house, then strip naked, applying a liberal amount of slippery cream to his girlish private parts, including <blush> his two dangling treats, his stiffie and his <gasp> "pussy." Timmy would be breathing heavily as he lay on his back, imagining that he was a pretty girl. Which, when he dressed in panties and his sister's lipstick, he darned well nearly was.

Then Timmy would hold a picture he treasured in his left hand as he tickled his treasures with his right hand. The picture was of Timmy and Uncle Randall. Just them. Uncle Randall had his arm around Timmy and they were both smiling at the camera.

Timmy's tummy tightened every time he looked at that picture. He imagined that he and Uncle Randall were alone and that Uncle Randall was FORCING him to be a girl for him.

"Put these stockings on, you little sissy," dream uncle would say to the precious young pantyboy. "Sissyboys like you need to be dominated by strong men like me. You need to put on girl's make-up and girl's clothes and give a man what he wants from a girl."

Timmy could almost hear Uncle Randall saying those exact words. Oh. If only Uncle would strip naked himself, revealing what Timmy was sure was a magnificent, manly body and an enormous cock and then FORCE Timmy to sit his warm bottom on Uncle's naked thigh and FORCE Timmy to accept Uncle's tongue into his girlish mouth as Uncle fondled Timmy's privates.

In the land of reality, Timmy would usually gasp and cum very, very hard at that image. His hairless chest would be doused with big glops of sticky cream. The pretty doll's chest would be heaving and he would be whimpering and shuddering through an agony of delight. But that wouldn't be all for the little angel.

Timmy always managed to construct another fantasy in his fertile brain. In this one, Uncle FORCED a whimpering, protesting Timmy to his stockinged knees and stuffed the little pansy's pretty mouth with cock. Timmy's tears and cries for the maintenance of his virtue were ignored, as Uncle shoved his monstrous missile down the simpering sissyboy's throat.

Alas, a tryst with Uncle Randall remained only a wet dream. But Timmy's search for an acceptable substitute was quite active. And quite pleasing, both to Timmy and the several men he asked for "feminization assistance."

Not that Timmy needed much help when it came to femininity. The little dazzler taught himself all about make-up and clothes. Especially intimate apparel. And the dollbaby's many gentleman admirers had bought him a lovely feminine wardrobe and a full range of first-rate accessories.

Timmy had several loving, ongoing relationships with handsome, wealthy, manly men.

Still he particularly enjoyed the little City-Hotel, please-feminize-your-nephew fantasies that Mr. Jordan set up for him with nice men once or twice each week.

Timmy had particularly enjoyed the "interview" Mr. Jordan had conducted with him when Timmy proposed the idea. Mr. Jordan had been the best Uncle that sweet Timmy had ever had. Four hours into the interview they were both exhausted and cum was everywhere. Except in their dangling bags.

Mr. Jordan was so kind about selecting uncles for Timmy. All of Timmy's "hotel uncles" had been sweet, nice men, who were intensely charmed by Timmy and most appreciative that they had been selected to help him realize his naughty dreams.

It appeared to Timmy that Tom would be one of the best uncles yet.

Tom stared in lusty appreciation at the made-up, babydolled, barely-18, little angel who stood before him.

Timmy was either the best actor outside of Bombay and Hollywood or, he was able to immerse himself in the fantasy of being semi-willingly feminized by a stern, yet loving uncle.

The fantasy was the reality.

Tom was rampant and panting as he bade Timmy to come over and sit on his uncley lap.

"What a lovely girl you are, Timmy," Tom said.

Timmy blushed and shyly covered his swollen penis with his tiny hand. Timmy sat on Tom's naked thigh. Timmy wiggled slightly as the hairs on Tom's thigh tickled Timmy's tender bottom. Tom adored the feel of the pretty sissy's warm, plump asscheeks against his skin.

Timmy sighed and shuddered with lust.

Tom groaned, almost imperceptibly and his cock swelled and throbbed.

Tom choked a bit, but continued his narrative. "I'm glad your mother sent you to me, sweetheart. This is clearly an emergency. You've been living as a boy for too long. Living a lie, am I right?"

Timmy whimpered.

Tom continued. "Nature made you into a beautiful girl, but somehow added this saucy little cock and pretty balls. No boy would make Uncle's cock this big and stiff. No boy would make all this sticky stuff ooze from Uncle's peehole."

Timmy moaned in girlish surrender as Tom lifted the angelic sissy's babydoll above his puffy nubbers and said, "And no boy would have delicious nipples like these. I must suck them!"
And that was just what Tom did. He licked them too. And kissed them.

Timmy liked that a lot. And he really liked when Tom skinned Timmy's peeny as he orally adored Timmy's puffy attributes.

Timmy didn't need a birth certificate to prove he was a girl. All he needed was someone who believed he was a paragon of feminine beauty.

 

Chapter Nine – Another new experience

When Thursday dawned, Tom grunted, heaved and blew his third load of hot, manly juices into the deliciously hospitable hindquarters of his lovely "nephew." After the tender, promise-filled goodbyes, and one more farewell coupling, Tom got himself ready for another day of work he hated and free time he adored.

As usual, Tom joined Dick and Harry for breakfast.

Tom thought his co-workers were in a rut. As they had the previous evening, all they had done was get all femmed up and slutty their way into admirers' beds.

Tom had enjoyed three very different evenings. And he couldn't wait to see where the fourth evening would take him.

Work dragged that day, of course. Made worse by the fact that Tom had hardly slept all week.

Tom was sure he would get his second wind that evening. What would he do? What should he try?

Thank goodness for two things – five o'clock arrived and he didn't have to work overtime.

Tom rushed back to the City Hotel, intending to flip through the hotel's "entertainment catalog," then make a quick decision for the final night of the strangest, most wonderful week of his life.

That didn't happen.

Tom entered the hotel, turned left toward the elevators and ran into two guys who looked like professional wrestlers. Only bigger. And meaner-looking.

The bruisers' intent was unclear, but their muscles weren't. "This way, Mr. Echols," the larger gorilla said, as each grabbed one of Tom's upper arms.

Tom was firmly led to the elevator bank, which went down to the "recreation rooms." He considered protesting, but knew that 1) it would change nothing and 2) going along with the program had worked awfully well thus far.

Funny Tom thought as Gorilla #2 used a key in the elevator panel, then pushed a button to B4, a level Tom didn't know existed. A slight tinge of fear stirred his stomach. These guys were hotel employees, weren't they? Part of the "entertainment," right? What the heck was B4 and what happened there?

It appeared Tom was about to find out.

Tom reassured himself that if things got bad, he could always "Rumpelstiltskin" his way out of things. Or at least he thought so.

The elevator door opened and Tom was sternly led down a sterile hall into a stark, windowless room, with only one chair as furniture. Saying nothing, the two large men stripped Tom naked! And Tom wasn't imagining that they fondled him a bit as they removed his clothing. The touching and the humiliation of the whole thing had Tom blushing and, worse, very erect. How embarrassing!

Gorilla #1 then lifted Tom into his arms and carried him out of the room, #2 opening doors as they walked down a hall and into a larger, feminine dressing room, filled with lingerie, cosmetics and other adornments.

Gorilla #1 set Tom down. Tom felt scared and helpless. Standing naked before those rough men. "Put these on," #2 said, as he handed Tom black stockings, garter belt and very high-heeled, stiletto pumps.

Tom did as he was told. The men weren't smirking at him or making fun of him. Being exposed and girlishly treated was more than enough to shame him.

Why was he enjoying himself so much? And why was his "clitty" as "on the verge" as it was?

Tom got his bearings in his heels and stood before his tormentors, naked from the waist up, girlish, yet nakedly erect from the waist down.

What were they going to do to him? He was a helpless sissy, completely at the mercy of two strong, brutish men.

But all they did was lead him, allowing him to make his mincing steps in his big heels, into a third room filled with mirrors on every surface except the floor.

Hmmm.

In the middle of the room was the only furniture – a three-foot high platform with stirrups and restraints at one end. What? Were they planning to….?

The men were very forceful, strapping the helpless Tom on his back, then restraining his stockinged legs in the raised stirrup restraints that spread his knees and exposed his anus lewdly. But exposed it to what?

Were the men going to fuck him?

The thought of surrendering to these rough men brought on the first warning sign of a Force Five orgasm.

The fear made the excitement even more intense.

The men were probably huge! They would rip his ass in pieces!

He felt the second warning pang!

But Gorilla #1 was sitting on a chair in the corner. As if he were waiting for something. Or someone.

And Gorilla #2 was still fully clothed, though he was fiddling with something.

Whoa!!!!!

Gorilla #2 had a jar of some type of lube. He dipped his fingers in it and, rather roughly, entered Tom's (now Cindy's) anus with two large, slick, gnarly fingers.

That did it, ladies.

Fear. Shame. Humiliation. Girlish excitement. Slick fingers mercilessly massaging one's prostate. All the ingredients for a fun evening.

Poor Cindy. Her cock was spurting thick, sticky glops all over herself. In front of these men. Because of these men.

It was fantastic. And terrifying. And the curiosity about what would happen next was immense.

Then Cindy found out.

Gorilla #2, seemingly satisfied with his "work," cleaned his hands with a towel and sat in a chair in a corner opposite #1.

Waiting.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Cindy's limp cock floated in the lake of cum on her tummy.

Seconds dragged.

Then the door opened.

And he entered.

It was a man, or at least Cindy thought so.

Oddly the man was masked. Sort of a "Lone Ranger" mask-thing.

He was wearing a military-style shirt, with epaulets, and a necktie stuffed into the shirt between the second and third button.

Those were the "normal" parts. Below the waist, the man was dressed exactly as Cindy was. Black stockings. Garter belt. High, stiletto pumps. And a very large, rampant prick. Red and angry. Goo slithering from the slit

Cindy was pretty sure where that nasty thing was going.

Would she survive it?

Should she invoke her safe word, quit Tom's job, then go back home to become a school crossing guard or hamburger flipper?

Not quite yet. Not when things were getting interesting and the mystery man was about to speak.

"Well, look at you, you little tramp," the masked marvel said.

Cindy recognized that voice. Who was it?

"You act fearful but you spurt all over yourself from your girlish excitement," the half-man, half-woman said. "You tease that poor man on Tuesday night, sending him home without complete satisfaction. You keep your pussy to yourself. You take, but you don't give. That's about to change, Missy. I'm going to fuck you. Then Ralph (Gorilla #1) will fuck you. Then Sam (#2). Then we'll start over. We all have big cocks and an appetite for 'tramp du jour,' so settle in for a cummy evening. Unless you want to leave the City Hotel right now and never come back."

Not on your life, Cindy thought. Cindy knew who the mystery man was and she liked it a lot.

It was Norm Jordan. And Cindy was receiving the initiation given to all those who want to be full participants in the range of joys at the City Hotel.

And anyway, it wasn't as if Tom was a fag or anything. Cindy was trussed and tied. She was being FORCED to give up her virginity.

And, unnnhhhhh. There it went. Norm had just entered Cindy's helpless anus and was fucking her. It hurt! Cindy's ass was on fire! But she was helpless and girlish and powerless to stop him. Except with that old safe word.

But no one had eight orgasms in one fuck-filled night by reciting her safe word.

Cindy was USED all night long by that horrible Mr. Jordan and his despicable thugs! They fucked the poor girl hard and fast. Switching places quickly, as soon as they finished rutting and spurting their filthy juices into Cindy's sore, aching "pussy." Cindy DRENCHED herself with spurt after spurt of involuntary, ecstatic spasms of sperm and semen.

It was completely degrading.

Frighteningly emasculating.

Disgustingly lewd.

And the most wonderful night anyone could ever imagine.

 

Chapter 10 – Farewell to Fromage

Cindy was returned to her room at 3 a.m., where she slept the sleep of the just until 7.

Tom was truly "walking funny" as he packed and checked out, but he was very happy.

At breakfast, Dick and Harry welcomed their colleague to full membership and asked him for details about Cindy's night.

"I'm still leaking cum 'back there'," Tom giggled. "And I don't think I'll be able to poop properly for a few days. But it was worth it."

"That's wonderful," Harry said. "The client says he'll need us next week for sure and probably the week after. Dick and I have approval to move you to our consulting team permanently, if you want to."

Tom almost kissed Harry right there.

It was a shame they all had to go home for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. Back to that ridiculous place we must all visit when absolutely necessary – "Reality."

But there was hope.

On Monday they would all be back at the City Hotel – the place of dreams fulfilled in all the possible ways.

 

Please let me know what you think at gingerfred99@yahoo.com

  

  

  

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