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She was so hot. I just loved to look at her as she left her apartment. No matter when or for what reason she looked very sexy. She had the kind of body that just screamed ‘fuck me’. And that is what I wanted to do. She was kind of short but had those perfect legs that gave the illusion of going on forever. She had that long, thick hair that was just perfect to nuzzle in too.

I watched her every day, and I knew her habits. On weekday mornings she dressed in a short dress type suit. All stiff and business-like, the type that made men and women equal in the workplace. Later she would come home and change for jogging. She wore some tight sweat pants and amorphous shirts. Because she had some huge breasts she wore one of those tight jogging bras. Every day she came back all hot and sweaty making me really horny.

Some would say, “If you wanted her so much, why don’t you get her?” Well for sure I wanted to but she always seemed to have another guy. And did she go through them. She never had one for more than a few weeks, and I wanted to be more than that. That is why I watched and studied her for so long. I knew her ins and outs, including her favorite sex positions, via a telescope bought for the purpose. As a matter of fact I finally decided that I would confront her with my love as soon as I found out one last bit of information. I didn’t know her name. I vowed that when I got it, I would get her.

One day she did not follow the usually routine. She went out to work did not come home for her daily jog. I saw this as an excellent chance to figure out her name. I knew for sure that her name would be on her mail, which she usually picked up from her box before jogging. Inconspicuously I slipped down to the mail boxes. The apartment owner either was a trusting soul or cheap because the boxes did not have locks. Lucky for me! I glanced and saw no one around. I quickly popped open her box and scanned her letters. Finally I say what I had been waiting for. Among the letters to occupant I found one addressed to ‘Miss Betsy Bryant’. I am ready to make my move. I knew in my mind I was going to get this woman and I would start the next time I saw her.

About 4 o’clock the next day I saw Betsy getting her mail. I slipped out of the apartment and came up the road as if I was going to the apartments. I walked up to her and pretended to ask her the direction to a friend’s place. When she was about to answer I said,”Wait a minute? Aren’t you Betsey Byrant? Don’t you remember me? I’m Jim, from school.”

This had her thoroughly confused and I moved in for the kill. I rambled on about some made-up school career until she invited me to her place. I had never really seen her place except from the windows, and I was impressed. She had impeccable taste in decor that seems the mark of the successful woman.

After we got on the couch I admitted to really being her neighbor and used the school mate bit as a ploy to get in her apartment. Betsy was shocked and I was afraid that she would kick me out. Finally, at my urgings she cooled down, and admitted that she knew I was BSing her anyway. The she started spouting off info on me! She knew everything about me. Of course I was surprised. It turns out that she used the computer at work to find out about me when she noticed me spying on her.

“Well, I bet you don’t know my favorite sex position,” I finally said.

“I bet I can find out,” she said slyly.

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C h a p t e r  O n e

Her door clicked shut behind me, signaling the beginning of our first real session. Mistress Dominique and I had been somewhat heterosexual lovers in the recent past and that had evolved into a unique friendship, which through my introduction of her to S&M had brought us to this beginning.

We met during my divorce. She was 5′9 in her stocking feet, half-Spanish, half African American, so her looks, skin and body were from fantasyland. Classic beautiful features of Mediterranean and African were sculpted over her face, and a deep copper glow appeared over her skin when excited. Her breasts were large. She wore a 44-DDD bra and, for a woman in her late 30’s, only a natural sag because of their tremendous volume. Large, dark nipples, the thickness of my pinky finger and slightly over an inch in length, jutted out from expansive deep and dark, copper-colored areolas. Her ass, one of the first sights I had of her, was marvelous, a modified bubble ass of her maternal African American heritage–but a little more wide for her size and perfect!“Take off your clothes, now, Cumslut!” her strong voice commanded from behind me.

I immediately obeyed. My cock jutted out through my jockeys as I pulled them down and within me a warm glow, a fever of sorts, a feeling of total submissiveness, burned. Harder and longer than I could ever imagine, or remember my cock became completely the center of my consciousness. I knew what to expect somewhat and this 6.5 organ controlled me completely; my bliss to do whatever she wanted just to have this epitome of erections.

My divorce was over my latent homosexual urges, ones I had had as a teenager but had suppressed completely. My wife reacted badly when I came out to her about my urges. And not long after that, I began going to Adult Bookstores and watching gay films, masturbating incessantly. A few times I slid my hardon through the Glory Hole and was pleasured by a gay in the next booth. So much did I want to kneel and service a cock with my mouth! But something inside me held me back…

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The night air was pleasant, cool and slightly moist against your skin, but it brought you no peace. As you leaned out over the balcony, surveying the reflecting pools and gardens of the estate stretching out into the moonlight, you tried to relax, enjoy the panorama, and ignore the sound of the music, laughter, and dancing in the ballroom down the hall from the study whose window you had flung open. Flung open at the end of a mad flight from the ball, trying to escape that which you most desired and, yet, by which you were most terrified.

The party had begun pleasantly enough. You had come unescorted, determined you have a good time regardless of who had or had not come with you. There were enough unattached men, or just outrageous flirts, to more than fill a casual night. Perhaps you would meet someone interesting, or particularly attractive, you had thought, but put the subject from your mind: no expectations except for diversion.

Then, two hours or so after the first dancing had begun, she had entered the room. It was between dances, and the crowd was busy with angling through the floor, looking for someone to ask for the next dance, or making themselves obvious to the person they wished would ask them. When the dark figured had filled the doorway, many had turned to look. Most had given a quick, appreciative glance, and then returned to their partners. You had not; although you were across the room, you stopped and stared as if turned to stone.

She was tall, at least six feet. She was dressed in black, in a perfect coachman’s uniform. She wore tight pants fit into calf-high boots, shiny and well-polished. Her vest, cut to give her a tight V-figure, was closed with a double row of bright silver buttons. Those, and her white cravat, were the only thing which were not black, black to the point of absorbing the light around her. Her hands and fingers were long and delicate as she casually tapped the palm of one hand with a riding crop. Her features were strong, aristocratic, not feminine except in their beauty. Her close-cropped hair was nearly completely concealed by a coachman’s top hat. But her eyes drew you most of all. Large, intense, as dark as her clothing, they held to the promise of lust, passion, power and even cruelty

The band struck up a waltz on a slightly off note, shocking you back to reality. You dimly were aware of your partner taking your hand and leading you onto the dance floor, and the movement gradually brought you to earth. Occasionally as the dance progressed, you would glimpse her dancing with women (and always leading). But after every dance, she was someplace else, asking someone else to dance; you could never seem to get near to her. Finally, the impression of her first appearance faded, and the evening continued.

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I was sitting in a booth at a Country Western Bar that I was visiting for the first time. I was there about two hours watching the place fill up and waiting for the band to come back from break. I was downing my third beer and waiting to get up the nerve to ask one of the girls to dance. I had no one in particular in mind, but the place was full and there were plenty of women to choose from.

Just as I finished my beer, the waitress came over and placed another one on the table. She said it was complements of the customer sitting at the bar. I could hardly see the bar area because my view was blocked by all the customers. I just waved in that general direction, a friendly salute and started to drink the beer. Many images were going through my mind, wondering who bought me the beer. As I was looking down at my glass, I sensed that someone was standing next to my booth and I quickly looked up.

She was amazing. She stood at least 6’2″ and had gorgeous long blonde hair. Her stature was immense. She was at least 200lbs with broad shoulders and very large breasts. She had on a cowboy hat, overalls and snake skin boots with steel toes and spurs. I just stared at her completely speechless. She finally said, “Well, aren’t you going to invite me to join you?” I stuttered, “Yes, of course.”

She sat down on the same side I was on and slid all the way over, pressing me into the wall. She put her arm around me and gave me a firm squeeze. I felt my heart pounding and my groin coming to life as she looked me in the eye. She said, “I’m the Sheriff around here. How would you like to be my deputy?” I just nodded my head and felt a gulp in my throat. This was not a woman who took no for an answer and I was totally confused by her aggressive tactics.

Before I knew it, she grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me toward her. She opened my mouth with her tongue and stuck it half-way down my throat. Her other arm reached into my crotch and started squeezing my balls. I felt completely helpless. I was being crushed by an amazon and was loving every second of it. We both began to breath heavily and were getting very turned on.

After what seemed like eternity, she removed her tongue from my mouth and said, “Let’s go back to my place for a little bull riding.” I couldn’t believe what I heard, but awkwardly smiled and said, “That sounds like a great idea, lets go.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the booth without any effort. She put her arm around my waist tightly and said, “You’re coming with me.” I was very embarrassed. I felt like everyone in the bar was staring at me as I was being dragged down the aisle by a large cowgirl and trying to cover up the large bulge in my pants.

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I am a cross-dresser who has for years enjoyed looking and acting like a woman. Lulu, my wife, started to enjoy this side of me once she discovered how easily she could dominate me. She likes to expose my transvestism to unsuspecting souls.

At first it was something simple like holding panties up to my waist while shopping for lingerie. But it has progressed to her telling me to buy specific items like a pink bra, a red garter belt or a black teddy. She also insists that I tell the sails clerk that the items are for me. I will be severely punished if I don’t comply, so when we go into the lingerie department and asked what we’re looking for, I will answer, “A pink bra. I wear a 36A.” It never fails to raise eyebrows. I love the embarrassment of it all.

My wife loves to embarrass me outdoors too. We will go to a public tennis court with me dressed in a white shirt and shorts with bright pink panties and a bra that will clearly show through underneath. It never fails to provoke stares. I have also gone to the tennis courts wearing a tennis dress with full makeup and a blonde wig. I’m quite convincing when dressed as a girl, so this doesn’t bother my game. But what does bother it is the fact that I’m also wearing tight nipple clamps and have a buttplug in place.

Lulu thinks I should experience womanly feelings and adventures as much as possible. So in bed I must be ready to accept her strap-on dildo and open my mouth so she can feed me my semen when I come. I also make regular visits to a beauty saloon for wig styling and facials.

A real surprise came a few weeks ago. Our tenth anniversary was fast approaching, and we had talked about exchanging vows again. We had arranged to hire a minister in a small chapel and have another couple, our best friends, stand up for us. This would be on a Wednesday night, and we would take off the rest of the week for a second honeymoon.

I should have known nothing is as expected when Lulu is involved.

She called me at work and told me to meet her at a bridal shop later on so we could get fitted. I thought she meant that I would be renting a tux. But when I arrived at the shop she was inside talking to the owner. They gave me a strange smile when I walked in. The owner looked at me and said, “Yes, I have something will fit him perfectly.”

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