FabGuys.com forum: Bank holiday broken dreams.

By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

The bank holiday Monday dawned with a soft, lazy light filtering through the curtains, promising a day of blissful nothingness. I stretched under the duvet, the warmth of my wife Jan beside me, her breathing slow and steady. The plan was simple: coffee strong enough to wake the dead, endless doom scrolling through the cesspool of the internet, and, well, a generous dose of marital recreation. No alarms, no obligations, just us and the glorious void of a day off.

The clock on the nightstand read 7:45 AM, and I was already fantasizing about the first sip of that dark roast when Jan’s phone shattered the peace. The shrill ringtone cut through the quiet like a knife. Jan groaned, rolling over to grab it from her side of the bed. “Who the hell’s calling this early on a bank holiday?” she muttered, squinting at the screen. Her face shifted from sleepy annoyance to resignation as she answered.

“Hello? Yeah, what’s up?” A pause, then her brow furrowed. “What? Are they okay? Shit, alright, alright. I’ll sort it out.” She hung up, tossing the phone onto the bed with a sigh that carried the weight of a thousand inconveniences.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow, already sensing our perfect day slipping away.

“One of the staff at the store,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Fell off a ladder stocking shelves, twisted an ankle or something. They’re fine, but they can’t work today. I’ve got to cover the shift.”

“Seriously?” I groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. “Can’t someone else handle it?”

She shot me a look, half exasperation, half apology. “You know how it is. It’s my store, my mess. No one else can step in last minute.” She swung her legs out of bed, the duvet sliding off her like a reluctant curtain. “It’s a long one, too. Ten till eight.”

“Ten till eight?” I repeated, the words sour in my mouth. “That’s the whole bloody day.”

“I know,” she said, already pulling open the wardrobe to grab her work clothes. “Believe me, I’m as pissed off as you are.”

I watched her move, the familiar rhythm of her getting ready for work kicking in despite the early hour. She yanked a black polo with the store’s logo from a hanger and tossed it onto the bed, then rummaged for her least-hated pair of black trousers. The air in the room felt heavier now, the lazy promise of the morning replaced by the grind of responsibility. I dragged myself out of bed, more out of solidarity than necessity, and shuffled to the kitchen to at least make her a coffee before she had to face the world.

The kettle hissed as I filled it, and Jan appeared in the doorway, half-dressed, her hair still a mess from sleep. “You don’t have to get up,” she said, but there was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.

“Figured you’d need caffeine before you deal with whatever chaos is waiting at the store,” I said, scooping grounds into the French press. The rich, earthy smell started to fill the kitchen, a small rebellion against the day’s derailment.

She leaned against the counter, watching me. “This was supposed to be our day,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Just us, no bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, the universe has a crap sense of humor,” I replied, pouring the hot water. “You want toast or anything?”

“Nah, no time,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’ll grab something later. Maybe.”

She disappeared back to the bedroom to finish getting ready, and I stood there, stirring the coffee, feeling the weight of her absence already. By the time I pressed the plunger down, she was back, fully dressed, her hair pulled into a hasty ponytail. She looked like she was heading into battle, which, managing a retail store on a bank holiday, she probably was.

I handed her the travel mug, steam curling from the lid. “You’re a hero, you know that?”

She snorted, taking a sip. “I’m a sucker, that’s what I am.” She grabbed her keys from the hook by the door, then paused, turning back to me. “Save some of that doom scrolling for me when I get back, yeah? And maybe the other stuff, too.”

I grinned despite myself. “Deal. Go be a boss.”

She gave me a quick kiss, her lips warm from the coffee, and then she was out the door, the sound of her car engine fading into the morning. The house felt too quiet without her, the bank holiday stretching ahead like a promise that had already been broken.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

I cradled the fresh mug of coffee, its heat seeping into my palms as I shuffled back to the bedroom. The duvet was still bunched from where Jan had thrown it off, and as I slipped beneath it, a faint warmth lingered, carrying her scent—something soft, like vanilla and clean laundry, mixed with the faintest trace of her perfume. It wrapped around me like a ghost of her presence, a small comfort against the long, empty day ahead. I propped the pillows behind me, settling in with the mug balanced on my chest, and let her parting words replay in my head: “Save some of that doom scrolling for me when I get back, yeah? And maybe the other stuff, too.” Her voice, half-teasing, half-hopeful, hung in the air, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Even in her rush out the door, she’d managed to leave me with something to hold onto.

The coffee was strong, bitter enough to keep me grounded, but my mind wandered. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a flood of notifications—news alerts, X posts, the usual chaos. Doom scrolling was tempting, the internet’s endless parade of outrage and absurdity calling like a siren. But I hesitated. Jan’s words weren’t just a throwaway line; they were a promise of later, a tether to the evening when she’d be back, when we could salvage what was left of this wrecked bank holiday. I set the phone face-down, resisting the urge to dive in. I’d save it for her, like she asked.

Instead, I sipped the coffee and let my eyes drift around the room. Her side of the bed was a mess—pillows askew, a stray sock peeking out from the sheets. It made me chuckle; Jan was a whirlwind, even in her sleep. The thought of her at the store, probably already barking orders at some poor delivery guy or untangling a customer complaint, sparked a mix of pride and pity. She was good at her job—too good, maybe, for days like this when it stole her away. I wondered what kind of chaos she’d walked into. A twisted ankle was bad enough, but retail on a bank holiday? That was a special kind of hell.

The warmth of the duvet started to lull me, the coffee not quite enough to fend off the lazy pull of the morning. I could’ve gotten up, done something productive—mowed the lawn, tackled the dishes piling up in the sink—but the bed felt like the only place that still held a piece of our original plan. I took another sip, the mug’s heat a small anchor, and let my mind drift to the “other stuff” Jan had mentioned. That brought a different kind of warmth, a slow burn that made the empty house feel a little less lonely. I’d hold onto that, too, for when she got back.

For now, though, I was stuck with the quiet. The day stretched out, long and shapeless without her. I glanced at the phone again, tempted, but left it untouched. Instead, I set the mug on the nightstand and sank deeper into the duvet, letting Jan’s scent and the faint echo of her words keep me company. I’d wait, not just for her to come home, but for the chance to pick up where we’d left off—a coffee-fueled, doom-scrolling, tangled-in-each-other kind of night.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

I lay there, sinking deeper into the duvet, Jan’s scent still clinging to the sheets like a quiet promise. Her words kept looping in my head: “And maybe the other stuff, too.” That teasing lilt in her voice was like a spark, and my imagination took it and ran. I pictured her coming home, exhausted but wired, kicking the door shut and tearing off that stiff black polo with the store’s logo, buttons popping, her eyes locked on mine with that look she gets when she’s done with the world and just wants me. She’d climb onto the bed, all urgency and heat, and fuck me senseless, the kind of reckless, desperate release that’d make us forget the whole ruined bank holiday. The thought sent a jolt through me, my pulse quickening, the warmth of the duvet suddenly not the only thing making me flushed.

Then the phone rang, shrill and jarring, yanking me out of the fantasy like a bucket of cold water. I fumbled for it on the nightstand, heart still thudding, and saw Jan’s name on the screen. A mix of irritation and curiosity hit me—why the hell was she calling already? I answered, trying to shake off the lingering heat of my daydream.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice casual, though I was still half-caught in the image of her tearing that uniform off.

“Hey, love,” Jan’s voice came through, softer than I expected, laced with guilt. “I’m so sorry about this. I feel like such a shit for leaving you on our day off. You okay? What’re you doing?”

I leaned back against the pillows, the duvet still warm around me, and let out a small laugh. “I’m fine, just… lying in bed, drinking coffee, trying not to let the day go completely to hell. You okay? How’s the store?”

She sighed, the kind of bone-deep exhale that told me she was already knee-deep in chaos. “It’s a bloody circus. The guy who fell? He’s fine, just milking the drama, but now I’ve got a skeleton crew and a queue of customers acting like it’s the end of the world because we’re out of some stupid sale item. I just… I hate that I’m here and not there with you.”

Her voice had that raw edge, the one she gets when she’s torn between duty and wanting to say fuck it all. I could picture her in the back office, probably surrounded by boxes and clipboards, her ponytail coming loose, looking like she could punch something or cry, maybe both.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, shifting the phone to my other ear. “I’m just keeping the bed warm for you. And, y’know, saving some of that doom scrolling like you asked.” I paused, smirking to myself. “And the other stuff.”

She let out a short, tired laugh, and I could almost see the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners. “Oh, you’re holding me to that, are you? Good. Keep that thought. I’m gonna need something to get me through this shift.”

“Deal,” I said, my voice dropping a little, still half-caught in the fantasy from before. “Just don’t let those arsehole customers wear you down too much. Save some energy for when you get home.”

“Promise,” she said, and there was a flicker of that playful tone from earlier, like she was clinging to it as a lifeline. “Look, I gotta go—someone’s banging on the office door. I’ll call you later if I get a second. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I replied, and the line went dead.

I set the phone down, the room quiet again except for the faint hum of the world outside. Her call had grounded me, but it also left me aching for her to be back already. The bed felt emptier now, the coffee in my mug gone lukewarm. I glanced at the clock—barely 9:00 AM. Eleven hours until she’d be home. I pulled the duvet tighter, her scent still there, and let my mind slip back to that image of her walking through the door, uniform in a heap on the floor, her hands on me like the rest of the world could wait. It was a hell of a thing to hold onto, and I’d damn well make sure we picked up where we left off when she finally got back.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

The duvet had gone from cozy to stifling, and my coffee was long cold, sitting forgotten on the nightstand. My mind, still buzzing with thoughts of Jan and that promised “other stuff,” eventually drifted to the mundane. Bills, errands, the usual noise of life crept in, and I figured I should at least pretend to be productive. I grabbed my phone, intending to check emails and messages—nothing urgent, just the usual spam and a couple of “hope you’re enjoying the bank holiday!” texts from mates who clearly didn’t know Jan had been dragged into work. I cleared the notifications with half-hearted swipes, but the pull of the internet was too strong. Before I knew it, I was neck-deep in doom scrolling, sucked into the endless vortex of X posts, news rants, and viral nonsense.

Two hours vanished in a blur of outrage bait, cat videos, and heated threads about politics I barely cared about. My eyes were starting to glaze over, my thumb moving on autopilot, when I decided I’d had enough. I was just about to toss the phone aside and maybe drag myself out of bed for a fresh coffee when a post caught my eye, screaming in bold, unapologetic text: “My husband wears lingerie.”

I froze, thumb hovering over the screen. It was absurd, the kind of headline that’s half clickbait, half car crash—you know you shouldn’t look, but you’re already hooked. I’m not proud of it, but I tapped the link, curiosity getting the better of me. The page loaded, and I was greeted by a wall of text, some anonymous woman’s story about discovering her husband’s secret stash of lace and silk. It wasn’t salacious, not really—just raw and oddly earnest, like a diary entry someone accidentally posted online. She talked about the shock, the questions, the weird mix of betrayal and intrigue, and how they were navigating it. No judgment, just her trying to make sense of it all.

I leaned back against the pillows, Jan’s scent still faintly clinging to the duvet, and let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell,” I muttered to myself, scrolling through the comments. They were a predictable mess—half supportive, half vicious, with a few creeps thrown in for good measure. But something about the post stuck with me. Not the lingerie itself, but the way it peeled back a layer of someone’s life, exposing something private, something real. It made me think of Jan, of us, of the little secrets we all carry, even in a marriage as solid as ours.

I glanced at the clock—11:15 AM. Jan was probably elbow-deep in stockroom chaos or defusing some Karen’s meltdown over a mispriced sale item. I wondered what she’d make of this post. She’d probably laugh, call it “bonkers,” and then give me that look, the one that says she’s already three steps ahead of whatever I’m thinking. I saved the post, not entirely sure why, but figuring it might spark a laugh when she got home. Or maybe something else. That “other stuff” she’d teased about was still simmering in the back of my mind, and this weird little glimpse into someone else’s world only stoked the fire.

I set the phone down, the screen still glowing with the post, and stretched, the duvet sliding off. The house was too quiet, the day still too long. I could’ve gotten up, done something useful, but instead, I let my thoughts drift back to Jan—her coming home, uniform in a heap, that fierce, hungry look in her eyes. Only now, thanks to that damn post, my imagination had a new twist to play with. I shook my head, chuckling at myself. “Get a grip,” I muttered, but the smirk stayed. I’d keep that post in my pocket for later, when we could laugh about it together—or maybe, just maybe, see where it took us.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

I hauled myself out of bed, the lingering haze of that X post still rattling around in my head, and shuffled to the bathroom. After a quick piss and a shower—hot enough to scald away the morning’s lethargy—I felt marginally more human. Towel around my waist, I wandered back to the bedroom, the air cool against my damp skin. Jan’s scent still hung faintly in the duvet, but my eyes snagged on her dresser across the room. Specifically, the top drawer. Her lingerie drawer.

For no fucking reason I could pin down, I walked over and yanked it open. It wasn’t like I’d never seen her stuff before—she’d modeled plenty of it for me over the years, usually with a grin that promised trouble. But this was different. I started pulling things out, one by one, holding them up like some clueless detective inspecting evidence. Silk slipped through my fingers, smooth and cool, a deep red thong that I remembered her wearing on our last anniversary. Then lace, delicate and black, the kind that made her feel like a badass. A pair of cotton boyshorts, practical but still sexy in their own way. And then, buried at the back, some latex-spandex hybrid, shiny and daring, the kind of thing she’d bought on a whim and only worn once, laughing the whole time.

I stood there, a half-damp idiot in a towel, my mind circling back to that screaming headline: “My husband wears lingerie.” I wasn’t that guy. At least, I didn’t think I was. But the question crept in, sneaky and persistent: What would it feel like? My brain flashed to years ago, Jan’s wicked grin as she’d wanked me off with a pair of her panties, the soft scrape of silk against skin, the way it had driven me wild. That was as close as I’d ever gotten to… whatever this was. Beyond that, I had no fucking clue.

I held up the latex-spandex ones, the material glinting under the bedroom light. They were ridiculous, bold, the kind of thing that screamed confidence. Jan had pulled them off—literally and figuratively—but me? I tried to picture it, the tight stretch, the way they’d cling. Would it feel like armor, or like a costume? Would it be hot, or just fucking weird? My pulse ticked up, a mix of curiosity and something else I couldn’t name. I wasn’t about to try them on—not yet, anyway—but the thought alone was enough to make me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something.

I dropped the panties back into the drawer, not bothering to fold them, and shut it with a soft thud. My phone was still on the bed, the screen dark but that post still lurking in my mind. Jan’s voice echoed again—“And maybe the other stuff, too.” Fuck, she had no idea what kind of rabbit hole she’d sent me down with that line. Or maybe she did. She always seemed to know when I was spiraling before I did.

I glanced at the clock—12:30 PM. Hours to go before she’d be back, before I could toss this whole bizarre morning at her and see what she made of it. I could already imagine her laugh, sharp and bright, maybe followed by that look, the one that said she was game for anything. I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt, the towel discarded on the floor, but my mind was still in that drawer, still on that headline. I wasn’t sure what I was chasing, but I knew one thing: when Jan got home, we’d have a hell of a conversation. And maybe, just maybe, I’d ask her to pull out those latex ones again. For science, or something like it.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

I shook off the weird energy from the bedroom and decided to make myself useful. Jan was stuck at work, probably swearing under her breath at some entitled customer, so the least I could do was sort out dinner. Tesco it was—grab some gags (fuck knows what I meant by that, probably just snacks or some shit), a bottle of wine to loosen up the evening, and a couple of those fancy ready meals she liked, the kind that pretended to be proper food. I pulled on a jacket, grabbed my keys, and headed out, the lingering image of that lingerie drawer still nagging at the edges of my brain.

The Tesco was a madhouse, because of course it was on a bank holiday. People shoving trolleys like they were auditioning for a demolition derby, kids screaming, and the fluorescent lights making everyone look half-dead. I weaved through the chaos, snagging a bottle of red—some cheap but decent Malbec Jan wouldn’t scoff at—and a couple of ready meals, chicken tikka masala and a posh-looking pasta thing. I tossed in a bag of crisps for good measure, because who doesn’t need crisps after a shit day?

With my basket full, I cut down what I thought was an empty-ish aisle to get to the checkout, ready to escape the mob. Except it wasn’t just any aisle. I stopped dead, realizing I’d wandered straight into the fucking lingerie department. Rows of panties, bras, stockings, slips, and even some slinky dresses hung on racks to the side, a riot of colors and fabrics screaming for attention. Lace in every shade—black, red, pastel pink—silk that looked like it’d slip through your fingers, and shit I didn’t even have names for, all shiny and stretchy and bold. It was like the universe was taking the piss, throwing that X post back in my face.

I stood there, basket dangling from one hand, feeling like a right twat just staring. My mind flicked back to Jan’s drawer, to that latex-spandex number I’d held up like some kind of perv investigator. Now here I was, surrounded by more of it, and I couldn’t help but wonder again—what the fuck would it feel like? Not just to touch, but to… y’know. The thought was ridiculous, but it stuck, like a song you can’t unhear. I glanced around, half-expecting someone to clock me gawking and think I was some creep, but the aisle was quiet, just a couple of women flicking through bras a few racks over, oblivious.

I stepped closer to a display of panties, some lacy black ones catching my eye. They weren’t far off from that pair Jan had used on me years ago, the memory of her wicked grin and the soft drag of silk making my face heat up right there in the bloody Tesco. I reached out, then stopped myself, hand hovering like an idiot. What was I even doing? I wasn’t about to buy anything. Was I? Nah, fuck that. But I couldn’t shake the image of Jan coming home, finding me with a Tesco bag full of surprises, her laugh turning into that look she gets when she’s intrigued.

I grabbed the basket tighter and forced myself toward the checkout, the lingerie section burning a hole in my peripheral vision. The wine, the meals, the crisps—they’d have to do for tonight. But as I queued up, scanning the self-checkout like it was my lifeline, that headline—“My husband wears lingerie”—kept flashing in my head, and I knew I was fucked. Not because I was actually going to do anything, but because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Jan. About what she’d say if I brought it up, half-joking, half-serious, over a glass of wine and a reheated tikka masala. I paid, grabbed my bags, and headed out into the grey afternoon, the promise of her coming home—and maybe that “other stuff”—feeling like the only thing keeping me from losing it entirely.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 weeks ago

Launceston

Fuck it, I thought, the Tesco bags weighing heavy in my hands as I stepped out into the car park. The day was already a write-off, and I wasn’t ready to go back to the empty house just yet, still buzzing from that lingerie aisle and the goddamn X post that wouldn’t leave me alone. There was a Costa across the way, its warm glow like a beacon for the aimless. A coffee sounded better than moping in Jan’s lingering scent, so I trudged over, bags swinging, and ordered a latte. The barista handed me a scabby old newspaper from the counter, probably left by some other poor sod killing time, and I plopped into a corner seat, the plastic bags crinkling at my feet.

I flicked through the paper, not really reading, just letting the pages blur—headlines about politics, some footballer’s scandal, an ad for car insurance. My eyes only lifted to sip the latte, hot and frothy, a small anchor in the middle of this weird fucking day. On my third gulp, I glanced up, scanning the room out of habit, and my gaze snagged on a suited gent a few tables over. He was all polished—crisp white shirt, navy tie, laptop open like he was closing some big deal. But then he shifted, crossing his legs with a casual flick, and fuck me, his trouser leg hitched up just enough to flash a pair of pink fishnet stockings clinging to his ankle.

I nearly spat out my latte. The guy caught my stare, and instead of looking embarrassed, he gave me a quick, knowing wink, like we were in on some secret. Then he uncrossed his legs, the stockings disappearing under his trousers, and went right back to typing, cool as you like. My jaw was practically on the table. Pink fucking fishnets? In a Costa, on a bank holiday Monday? It was like the universe was doubling down, rubbing that damn headline—“My husband wears lingerie”—in my face like a cosmic prank.

I tried to go back to the newspaper, but the words swam, useless. My brain was stuck on that flash of pink, on the guy’s unbothered confidence, on the way it made my own curiosity feel less like a fleeting thought and more like… something. I stole another glance, but he was deep in his laptop now, oblivious or maybe just playing it off. I wondered what Jan would say if she were here. She’d probably nudge me, whisper something filthy and hilarious, and then dare me to go ask the guy where he got his stockings. Fuck, I missed her.

The latte was half-gone, cooling fast, and the Tesco bags sat there, the wine bottle poking out like a reminder of the night we were supposed to have. That wink stuck with me, though. It wasn’t sleazy, just… bold. Like he knew something I didn’t. I shifted in my seat, the memory of Jan’s lingerie drawer and that Tesco aisle mixing with this stranger’s fishnets, stirring up a restlessness I couldn’t shake. I wasn’t about to go full nutter and buy myself a pair of stockings—not today, anyway—but the thought of bringing this up with Jan later, over that Malbec, maybe teasing her about what she’d look like in fishnets, or hell, what I’d look like… it made my pulse kick up a notch.

I drained the last of the latte, crumpled the newspaper, and grabbed my bags. The suited gent didn’t look up as I left, but I could still feel that wink, like a challenge. Back home, I’d wait for Jan, crack open the wine, heat up those ready meals, and maybe, just maybe, tell her about the pink fishnets and the wild fucking rabbit hole this day had become. She’d laugh, she’d tease, and then—knowing her—she’d probably drag me to bed to see where the night took us.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 weeks ago

Launceston

The clock was creeping toward 8:30 PM when I heard the jangle of Jan’s keys at the door. I’d been back from Tesco for hours, the bags unpacked, the wine chilling, and the ready meals ready to be zapped. The house still felt too fucking quiet without her, but the second she stepped inside, it was like the air shifted. She looked absolutely knackered—hair falling out of its ponytail, eyes heavy, that black polo creased to shit. Frustration radiated off her like heat, and I knew her day had been a proper clusterfuck before she even opened her mouth.

I grabbed the Malbec and poured her a glass, the deep red catching the kitchen light as I handed it over. “Here, drink this before you set something on fire,” I said, half-smirking. She took it with a grunt, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed into a chair, already launching into a tirade.

“Fucking hell,” she started, her voice rough. “The store was a shitshow. That twat who fell off the ladder? Turns out he’s fine, just wanted a day off to play the victim. Left me with two kids who barely know how to scan a barcode, and a queue of customers acting like I personally ruined their bank holiday because we ran out of fucking discounted biscuits. Then the delivery guy shows up three hours late with half the order wrong. I swear, I nearly lost my shit.”

I nodded, letting her vent, and tossed the chicken tikka masala and pasta into the microwave. The hum filled the kitchen as she kept going, unloading every infuriating detail—some Karen who’d screamed about a coupon, a spilled crate of orange juice, a till that kept jamming. I slid her plate in front of her, the steam rising, and topped up her wine. We ate, we drank, and she started to soften, the sharp edges of her day dulling with each sip. The first bottle went down easy, too easy, and I could see her sinking into that hazy, wine-soaked calm. Her shoulders loosened, her scowl faded, but her eyes were heavy, her words slowing. I knew then there’d be no fucking tonight, no wild, uniform-ripping reunion like I’d been daydreaming about. The wine had done its job too well—she was dazed, subdued, half-gone to the world.

“Fuck it,” I said, grabbing a second bottle from the counter. “Let’s keep going.” She grinned, lazy and warm, and we tore through that one too, laughing over stupid shit—some meme I’d seen while doom scrolling, a story about her coworker who always smells like tuna. By the time I cracked open a third bottle, we were properly pissed, giggling like idiots, the stresses of her day floating away like smoke. We were sprawled on the couch now, plates shoved aside, the kitchen a mess of crumbs and empty glasses. Jan’s legs were slung over mine, her head tipped back, a sloppy smile on her face.

Then she turned to me, her eyes glassy but curious. “So, what about you? How was your fucking day, stuck here without me?”

I snorted, the wine making my head swim, that damn X post and the Tesco lingerie aisle and the pink fishnet guy all crashing back into my brain like a fucking freight train. “Oh, you’ve got no idea,” I said, leaning closer, my voice dropping. “I went down a right weird rabbit hole after you left. Started with me rummaging through your fucking lingerie drawer like some perv, then I ended up in Tesco’s knicker section, staring at lace like it was gonna tell me the meaning of life. And then—get this—I’m in Costa, and some posh bastard in a suit flashes pink fishnet stockings at me. Pink. Fucking. Fishnets. Winked at me like it was nothing.”

Her eyes widened, and she burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re shitting me! Pink fishnets? In a Costa? What the fuck kind of day did you have?”

“The kind that makes me think I’m losing my fucking mind,” I said, grinning. “All because of this stupid X post I saw—‘My husband wears lingerie.’ Got me wondering… what’s it like, y’know? Not saying I’m gonna nick your spandex pants, but… fuck, I don’t know. It’s been in my head.”

Jan’s laugh softened, and she gave me that look—the one that’s half mischief, half dare. “You kinky bastard,” she said, her voice low and slurred from the wine. “You’ve been thinking about my knickers all day, haven’t you? What, you wanna try ‘em on? See if you can pull off fishnets better than Costa guy?”

I laughed, heat creeping up my neck, the wine making me bolder than I should’ve been. “Fuck off, maybe I do. Bet I’d look sexier than him, anyway.”

She leaned in, her breath warm and wine-sweet, her hand resting on my thigh. “Tell you what,” she said, her voice a lazy purr. “Tomorrow, when I’m not half-dead and three bottles deep, you show me what’s got you so fucking curious. Deal?”

My pulse jumped, the room spinning just a little. “Deal,” I said, and we clinked our glasses, the night blurring into a haze of laughter and possibilities, that X post and her lingerie drawer still burning a hole in my brain.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 weeks ago

Launceston

The alarm blared at 6:30 AM, a fucking assault on the senses after a night of three bottles of Malbec. Jan and I had slept like the dead, the kind of heavy, wine-soaked sleep that leaves you both rested and wrecked. My head hurt as I fumbled to silence the phone, Jan groaning beside me, her arm flopping over her face. “Fucking hell,” she muttered, voice rough. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

I dragged myself out of bed, the room tilting just a bit, and shuffled to the kitchen to start the coffee. Routine was our lifeline on mornings like this. The machine hissed and gurgled, the smell of dark roast cutting through the fog in my brain. Jan stumbled in, hair a mess, and headed straight for the shower while I poured her a mug, black and strong, just how she liked it. By the time she was out, wrapped in a towel and looking marginally more alive, I’d downed half my own cup and was ready to trade places. I showered quick, the hot water waking me up enough to function, and came back to find her sipping her coffee, staring into space like she was still piecing together last night.

We moved through the morning on autopilot—me gulping coffee, her pulling on her work polo, both of us dodging the mess of empty bottles and dirty plates still littering the kitchen. My head, though, was fucking chaos. Last night’s d*unken chat kept replaying like a bad radio loop. Jan’s teasing—“You wanna try ‘em on? See if you can pull off fishnets better than Costa guy?”—and that half-serious, wine-slurred “Deal” we’d made. Not to mention the whole damn day before: her lingerie drawer, Tesco’s knicker aisle, that suited bastard with his pink fishnets winking at me in Costa. It was like my brain had been hijacked by some kinky conspiracy, and I couldn’t shake it.

As I yanked on my jeans and a shirt, I caught Jan watching me, her mug paused halfway to her lips. “What?” I said, zipping up.

She smirked, that mischief back in her eyes despite the hangover. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Last night. The fucking fishnets and all that.”

I snorted, heat creeping up my neck. “Fuck off, my head’s just a mess from the wine. And maybe your bloody drawer and that X post that started this shit.”

She laughed, setting her mug down and stepping closer, her work polo still unbuttoned enough to show a hint of collarbone. “Oh, come on. You were proper into it, you kinky fucker. Don’t tell me you’re not still wondering what it’d feel like.” She paused, tilting her head, her voice dropping. “Was I serious? Were you serious?”

My pulse kicked up, caught off guard. “Was I—fuck, I don’t know. Were you?” I shot back, half-laughing, half-panicking, because the truth was, I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking anymore. That post, her lingerie, the Costa guy—it had all stirred something I couldn’t quite name, and her calling me out wasn’t helping.

She grinned, leaning in to kiss me, quick but firm, her lips tasting faintly of coffee. “Guess we’ll find out later, yeah?” she said, grabbing her keys. “Don’t spend all day overthinking it, you perv.”

And then she was out the door, leaving me standing there, coffee in hand, my head a fucking warzone. I grabbed my own keys, locked up, and headed to work, the whole drive plagued by flashes of last night’s laughter, her teasing, and that nagging question: Was she serious? Fuck, was I? All I knew was, tonight was gonna be interesting, whether we were just taking the piss or… something else.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 weeks ago

Launceston

The day dragged on like a bastard, one of those hungover slogs where you’re not quite dying but you’re sure as fuck not living either. No headache, thank Christ, but no spark, no enthusiasm—just a hollow shell of me going through the motions. Operating the JCB was a special kind of hell today, every lever pull and engine rumble feeling like a personal insult. I was just there, doing what needed doing, counting down the seconds till I could clock off. Heavy machinery and a wine-fogged brain don’t mix, but I managed not to fuck anything up, which was a minor miracle.

Finally, the whistle blew, and I was out of there, making a beeline for Aldi like it was the promised land. I grabbed a six-pack of cloudy cider—proper strong stuff, none of that weak piss—and a couple of microwave meals, because fuck cooking after a day like that. The whole drive home, my head was still a mess, replaying last night’s d*unken banter, Jan’s teasing about fishnets, and that nagging question: Was she serious? I was half-dreading, half-hoping she’d bring it up again, but I figured she’d probably forgotten it in the haze of her own shitty workday.

I pulled into the drive, grabbed the bags, and pushed open the front door, expecting to find Jan sprawled on the couch, still in her work polo, swearing about her day. Instead, I stopped dead, the Aldi bags nearly slipping from my hands. There she was, lounging on the sofa, dressed in the sexiest fucking lingerie I’d ever seen. Black lace, sheer enough to make my heart skip, clinging to her like it was painted on. A bra that barely contained her, panties that left nothing to the imagination, and a garter belt holding up stockings that screamed trouble. But what really fucked me up was the spare set of lingerie—red, lacy, just as bold—draped across the sofa beside her. Next to it, her rabbit vibrator and that little silver bullet she loved, glinting under the living room light like a goddamn invitation.

I was transfixed, mouth dry, brain short-circuiting. “Fucking hell, Jan,” I managed, setting the bags down before I dropped them. “What’s… what’s all this?”

She smirked, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, the movement pure fucking sin. “You’ve been thinking about it all day, haven’t you?” she said, her voice low and teasing, like she’d been planning this since we kissed goodbye this morning. “That X post, my drawer, that wanker in Costa with his pink fishnets. Don’t play dumb, love. I saw it in your eyes last night. So I thought, fuck it, let’s see how serious you are.”

My pulse was hammering, the cider and microwave meals forgotten on the floor. I stepped closer, eyes flicking between her, the red lingerie, and those toys. “You’re fucking with me, right?” I said, but my voice cracked, betraying how much I was already in over my head.

She picked up the red panties, dangling them from one finger. “Am I? Or are you gonna stop overthinking and try these on for me? Bet you’d look fucking hot.” She nodded toward the rabbit and bullet, her grin turning wicked. “And these? Well, we’ll see where the night takes us.”

I laughed, nervous and turned on and still half-convinced this was a piss-take, but the way she was looking at me—like she was daring me to jump into the deep end—made my skin buzz. I grabbed a cider from the bag, cracked it open, and took a long swig, the sharp tang grounding me just enough. “You’re a fucking menace,” I said, but I was already moving toward the sofa, the weight of the day and the hangover falling away. Whatever this was—joke, dare, or something neither of us had named yet—I was in. All fucking in.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 weeks ago

Launceston

I stood there, heart pounding like a fucking jackhammer, my work clothes in a heap on the floor. Jan’s eyes were locked on me, that wicked smirk of hers daring me to keep going. I picked up the red lace panties, the fabric so light it felt like nothing in my hands, and her voice cut through the haze. “Go on,” she said, leaning back on the sofa, her own black lingerie making her look like a goddamn vision. My cock was already twitching, half-hard just from the anticipation, as I stepped into the panties and pulled them up over my knees. The lace clung tight, the sensation electric, like every nerve was dialed to eleven. I grabbed the stockings next, rolling them up my legs, the sheer material doubling the intensity—smooth, snug, fucking unreal.

I fumbled with the rest, the bra awkward but thrilling as I clipped it on, the garter belt snapping into place like a final commitment. My head was swimming, caught in the rush of it all, the way the lingerie hugged my skin, foreign but fucking exhilarating. I caught my reflection in the living room mirror—ridiculous, maybe, but also kind of hot in a way I didn’t expect. Jan’s grin widened, her eyes raking over me, and I could tell she was loving this as much as I was. But the rabbit vibrator and bullet sitting there on the sofa? Those threw me. My brain couldn’t quite connect the dots. Was Jan gonna put on a show, tease me with them while I stood here in her red lace? Or was this about to go somewhere else entirely?

She stood up, closing the distance between us, her fingers trailing over the lace on my chest. “Fuck, you look good,” she murmured, her voice low and filthy. “But you’re wondering about these, aren’t you?” She picked up the rabbit, twirling it like it was a fucking trophy, and my stomach flipped. “You thought I was just gonna dress you up and play, didn’t you? Nah, love. Tonight, I’m treating you like my little sissy. These toys? They’re for you.”

I froze, my mouth dry, cock straining against the lace. “Wait, what the fuck?” I stammered, half-laughing, half-panicking. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m fucking serious,” she said, her eyes glinting with something new—something bold and unapologetic. She stepped closer, the bullet now in her other hand, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I wanna see you take it. Wanna see you let go. You’re curious, I know you are. Let’s find out how much you fucking like it.”

My head spun, a mix of shock and raw, undeniable heat. This wasn’t just Jan fucking with me—this was her pushing us into uncharted territory, and the look on her face said she was as surprised by her own boldness as I was. But there was no backing out now. She guided me to the sofa, her hands firm but gentle, and started slow, talking me through it with that dirty, commanding tone that made my knees weak. “Relax, you gorgeous fucking sissy,” she purred, easing me into it as she switched on the bullet, the low hum filling the room. The sensation hit like a shockwave, foreign and overwhelming, and when she brought out the rabbit, slick with lube, I was already too far gone to overthink it.

It was intense, raw, fucking mind-blowing. Jan was relentless, her words explicit and unfiltered—calling me her slut, her pretty boy, telling me how fucking hot I looked, how much she loved seeing me like this. I’d never seen her this way, so in control, so turned on by her own audacity. And me? I was lost in it, the lace, the toys, the way she owned every second. It was nothing we’d ever done before, nothing I’d even thought about beyond that fleeting X post and her drawer, but fuck, we both loved it. Her shock mirrored mine, like we’d stumbled into something neither of us expected but couldn’t get enough of.

When it was over, we collapsed together, sweaty, breathless, the cider cans and microwave meals still forgotten on the floor. Jan laughed, a little shaky, her head resting on my chest. “Fucking hell,” she said, voice hoarse. “Didn’t know I had that in me. You okay?”

I grinned, still buzzing, the red lace still clinging to my skin. “Fuck yeah. Didn’t know I had that in me either. You’re a bloody menace.”

She smirked, kissing me hard. “Told you we’d find out. Round two tomorrow?”

I laughed, my head still spinning, already knowing we’d be diving back into this wild, fucked-up adventure the second we got the chance.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

The next morning hit like a freight train, the kind of rude awakening that makes you question every life choice that led to this moment. The alarm screamed at 6:30 AM, ripping us out of a sleep that was more coma than rest after the cider and that fucking wild night. My body ached in ways I didn’t know it could, the memory of Jan’s lingerie, the rabbit, and her filthy, commanding voice still burned into my brain. I groaned, rolling over to find Jan already smacking her phone to shut it up, her hair a tangled mess, eyes bleary but glinting with a hint of last night’s mischief.

“Fuck me,” she muttered, voice like gravel. “That was… a lot.” She shot me a look, half-smirk, half-checking if I was still in one piece. “You good?”

I laughed, wincing as I sat up, the ghost of lace still tingling on my skin. “Good? I’m fucking ruined, you maniac. But yeah, I’m good.”

She snorted, dragging herself out of bed. Routine kicked in like muscle memory—I stumbled to the kitchen to start the coffee, the machine’s hiss cutting through the post-cider fog, while Jan hit the shower. My head was a warzone, replaying every second of last night: the red panties tight against my cock, the stockings sliding up my legs, Jan’s voice calling me her “fucking sissy” as she worked that rabbit like a pro. It was insane, hot as hell, and so far out of our usual playbook it left me dizzy. And her—she’d been shocked by her own nerve, but the way she’d owned it, the way we’d both fucking loved it, had me wondering what else we’d been sleeping on all these years.

Jan came out, towel-wrapped, grabbing her coffee as I headed for the shower. The hot water did fuck-all to clear my head; if anything, it just made me think of her hands, her toys, that wicked grin. By the time I was back, gulping my own coffee, she was half-dressed in her work polo, eyeing me over her mug. “Still thinking about it, aren’t you?” she said, her tone teasing but sharp, like she could see straight into my skull.

“Fuck off,” I said, grinning despite myself. “Like you’re not. You went full dominatrix last night, you kinky bastard.”

She laughed, loud and unapologetic, buttoning her shirt. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly hate it, did you? Bet you’re already wondering what’s next.” She leaned in, kissing me quick, her lips coffee-warm and promising. “Hold that thought, love. We’ll pick it up tonight.”

We grabbed our keys, her heading to the store, me to another soul-crushing day at the JCB controls. The whole drive, my mind was a mess—flashes of lace, her voice, that bullet’s hum, and the way she’d called me out like she knew I was already hooked. Work was another slog, the hangover lighter but the distraction worse. Every time I shifted a load of dirt, I was back on that sofa, Jan’s hands on me, her toys pushing me to places I didn’t know I could go. It was fucking distracting, to say the least.

Clocking off couldn’t come soon enough. I skipped Aldi this time—no cider, no microwave shit. I wanted to get home, see what Jan had up her sleeve, because if last night was any indication, she wasn’t done fucking with me. I pulled into the drive, heart already kicking up, and stepped inside. Jan was there, still in her work clothes but with that same dangerous glint in her eye. She held up a bag—black, nondescript, definitely not from her store. “Got you something,” she said, tossing it to me.

I opened it, and fuck me, it was another set of lingerie—deep purple, lacy, with matching stockings. And next to it, a new toy, some sleek, curved thing that looked like trouble. “You’re not fucking around, are you?” I said, my voice catching as my cock twitched just looking at it.

She stepped close, her fingers brushing my jaw. “Told you, round two. You ready to be my sissy again, or you gonna pussy out?”

I laughed, already pulling my shirt off, the bag still in hand. “Fuck that. Let’s see how much filthier this can get.” The night was young, and Jan was clearly just getting started.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

I stood there, gripping the black bag, the weight of the purple lingerie and that sleek, curved toy inside it feeling like a fucking gauntlet thrown down. Jan’s eyes were locked on me, that same mix of challenge and heat from last night, her work polo still on but unbuttoned just enough to tease. My heart was hammering, cock already stirring, the memory of lace and her filthy words from last night burning through me like a fever. “You’re really not fucking around,” I said again, voice rough, half in awe of her audacity.

She smirked, stepping closer, her fingers hooking into my belt loops as she tugged me toward her. “Told you, love. You started this with your X post bullshit and that Costa wanker’s fishnets. Now I’m invested.” She nodded at the bag. “Go on, get changed. I wanna see my sissy boy in purple.”

I laughed, nerves and excitement twisting together, and headed to the bedroom, the bag swinging in my hand. My work boots hit the floor with a thud, jeans and shirt following, until I was standing there, bare and buzzing. I pulled out the lingerie—purple lace panties, delicate but bold, a matching bra, and stockings that shimmered in the low light. Sliding the panties on was like stepping back into last night’s madness, the fabric tight and electric against my skin, my cock swelling as I adjusted them. The stockings came next, smooth and cool, hugging my legs in a way that made my pulse race. The bra was trickier, but I got it on, the straps biting just enough to keep me grounded. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—fuck, it was wild, seeing myself like this, but the thrill was undeniable.

I stepped back into the living room, and Jan’s eyes lit up, a low whistle escaping her lips. “Fucking hell,” she said, circling me like a predator, her fingers brushing the lace on my hip. “You’re making this too easy, you sexy little slut.” Her voice was pure filth, and I could tell she was loving this as much as I was, maybe more. She grabbed the new toy from the bag, its smooth curve gleaming, and held it up with a grin that promised trouble. “You ready for this, or you gonna chicken out?”

“Fuck you, I’m in,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, the anticipation making my skin hum. She pushed me onto the couch, her hands firm, and started slow, teasing me with the bullet from last night first, its buzz a familiar shock that had me gasping. She was relentless, her words dripping with dirty praise—calling me her “pretty fucking sissy,” telling me how hot I looked, how much she loved owning me like this. When she switched to the new toy, slick and deliberate, it was a whole new level of intense, pushing me further than last night, every sensation amplified by the lace clinging to me and her unapologetic control.

It was fucking unreal, the way she took charge, the way we both leaned into this wild, uncharted shit. Her eyes were wide, like she was still a little shocked by her own nerve, but the way she moved, the way she talked, said she was all in. So was I, lost in the heat of it, the purple lace, the toys, her voice driving me fucking insane. When we finally collapsed, sweaty and spent, the living room a mess of cider cans and lingerie bags, she curled against me, her breath hot on my neck.

“Fuck, we’re good at this,” she panted, laughing softly. “Didn’t think we had this kind of kinky shit in us.”

I grinned, still catching my breath, the lace still on me like a second skin. “Yeah, well, blame that fucking X post. And you, you absolute menace. Where’d you even get that toy?”

“Little shop near work,” she said, smirking. “Thought it’d be fun to fuck you up even more.” She paused, her fingers tracing the stockings on my thigh. “Tomorrow night, you pick the color. And maybe I’ll let you use the rabbit on me.”

I laughed, my head spinning with the promise of more. “Deal, you filthy bastard. But I’m holding you to that rabbit.” The night was done, but this thing we’d stumbled into? It was just getting started, and I was already counting the hours till we’d dive back in, dirtier and bolder than ever.

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By *TRAPON BOSSTV/TS
1 week ago

Dublin

MORE please loveing it

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

The next evening rolled around, and Jan was already in the driver’s seat, her eyes gleaming with that same filthy confidence that had me hooked. She’d picked out the lingerie this time—pretty pink lace, soft but fucking bold, with a thong that barely covered anything and stockings that shimmered like they were daring me to wear them. “Put it on,” she ordered, tossing the set at me with a grin that said she wasn’t fucking around. I stripped down, my work clothes a crumpled mess on the floor, and slid into the pink lace. The thong was tight, hugging my cock and balls in a way that sent a jolt through me, the fabric catching every twitch as I got hard just pulling it on. The stockings followed, silky and snug, amplifying every sensation as they rolled up my thighs. I clipped on the bra, fumbling but getting there, and caught my reflection—pink fucking lace, ridiculous but hot as hell, my pulse already racing.

Jan pointed to the bed, her voice low and commanding. “On all fours, face down, sissy. Now.” I crawled onto the bed, the lace shifting against my skin, and positioned myself, knees spread, face pressed into the duvet, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat building in me. My heart pounded, anticipation and nerves mixing as I heard her behind me, the faint click of a lube bottle opening. She was prepping the new toy—a prostate massager, sleek and curved, designed to hit exactly where it needed to. “Good sissy,” she purred, her voice dripping with that mix of praise and filth that made my cock throb against the lace. I could hear the slick sound of her coating the toy, each squirt of lube making my skin prickle with expectation.

She moved closer, her hand grazing my thigh, fingers brushing the edge of the stockings. “Relax for me, you pretty little slut,” she said, her tone teasing but firm. She started slow, the cold, slick tip of the massager circling my hole, teasing the sensitive skin with deliberate, torturous precision. The sensation was electric, a slow burn that had me gripping the sheets, my breath catching as she applied just enough pressure to make me feel the stretch without pushing in. “Fuck, you’re so eager,” she murmured, her free hand stroking my back, nails lightly scratching as she kept circling, the lube making every touch slippery and intense. She’d pause, drag the tip along the rim, then press just a fraction harder, enough to make me gasp, my body tensing and then melting under her control. “Look at you, already fucking desperate,” she said, her voice thick with amusement as she kept up the tease, drawing it out until I was practically begging with every shaky breath.

Finally, she pushed the massager in, slow and deliberate, the slick curve stretching me open. The sensation was overwhelming—full, intense, a deep pressure that hit my prostate with pinpoint accuracy. My cock pulsed hard against the pink lace, and I felt a warm, sticky ooze of precum leaking out, soaking the thong. It was involuntary, my body reacting to the massager’s slow, rhythmic thrust as Jan worked it deeper, each movement sending a jolt through me. The lace clung to the tip of my cock, the wet patch spreading, the fabric slick and tight as my arousal dripped, pooling against my skin. “Fuck, look at that,” Jan said, her voice low and filthy as she noticed. “You’re leaking like a proper sissy slut, aren’t you?” Her fingers grazed the wet lace, smearing the precum, making me shudder as the massager pressed deeper, hitting that spot that made my vision blur and my toes curl.

She kept it up, fucking me with the toy, slow and steady, each thrust precise, the pressure building until I was moaning into the duvet, my hips rocking back to meet her rhythm. “Good boy,” she whispered, her hand sliding up to tug at the bra strap, grounding me in the pink lace as she pushed me closer to the edge. When she finally eased the toy out, I was a trembling mess, precum still dripping, the thong soaked and clinging to me like a second skin.

Jan wasn’t done. She grabbed the rabbit vibrator from the nightstand, her eyes locked on mine as she stripped out of her black lingerie, leaving only the stockings. “Your turn,” she said, lying back on the bed, spreading her legs with a grin that was pure fucking trouble. I took the rabbit, slicking it with lube, and started slow, teasing her clit with the buzzing tip. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping as I circled, watching her squirm, her hips lifting to chase the sensation. “Fuck, yes,” she gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as I slid the rabbit inside her, the curved shaft filling her while the clit stimulator buzzed against her. I worked it slow at first, letting her feel every inch, every pulse, her moans growing louder, more desperate. “Harder, you fucker,” she panted, and I obliged, thrusting the toy deeper, the buzz intensifying as her body arched, her thighs trembling. Her eyes were half-lidded, her voice a string of curses and pleas as I fucked her with the rabbit, watching her come undone, her orgasm hitting hard, her whole body shaking as she cried out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

We were both too far gone to stop. I tossed the rabbit aside, my cock still straining against the soaked pink thong, and climbed over her. She grabbed me, pulling me close, her nails digging into my back as I pushed the thong aside and slid into her. It was raw, urgent, the lace still on me, the stockings rubbing against her skin as we fucked. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper, her voice a breathless chant of “Fuck me, you sissy slut,” driving me wild. The sensation of the lingerie, the memory of the massager, her heat around me—it was too much. I came hard, groaning, her name on my lips as she clenched around me, riding her own second wave.

We collapsed, sweaty and wrecked, the pink lace still clinging to me, her stockings tangled with mine. Jan laughed, breathless, her head on my chest. “Fucking hell,” she said, her voice hoarse. Then she looked up, that wicked glint back in her eyes. “Bet you wish it was a real cock up your arse, don’t you?”

I blurted out a laugh, caught off guard, my face burning. “Fuck off,” I said, but my voice wavered, the idea hitting harder than I expected. “You’re the one who’d probably love that show.”

She grinned, tracing a finger along the lace on my hip. “Maybe I would. Maybe next time we’ll find out.” She kissed me, slow and dirty, and I knew this wasn’t the end of our descent into this wild, filthy territory. The night was over, but the ideas she’d planted? Those were just taking root, and I was already half-hard thinking about where we’d go next.

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By *ully63Man
1 week ago

Didcot

Wow. Great writing. Love that to happen to me. Xxx

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

The days and weeks blurred into the usual grind—work, bills, the endless fucking treadmill of life that sucks the soul out of you. JCB days were long, Jan’s store was a constant shitstorm, but we’d carve out our moments, stealing nights to dive back into that wild, filthy world we’d stumbled into. The pink lace, the toys, her calling me her sissy—it was our secret fuel, keeping us sane through the mundane. Then one Wednesday evening, Jan upped the fucking ante.

She came home with a glint in her eye, tossing a bag at me as we stood in the kitchen. “Put this on,” she said, her voice all command and no bullshit. I opened it to find a bright pink crotchless bodystocking, the kind of thing that screamed pure sex. I stripped right there, the cold tiles biting my feet, and slid into it. The fabric was tight, hugging every inch of me, leaving my cock and balls completely exposed, swinging free as I moved. It felt fucking incredible—naughty, vulnerable, and hot as hell, my cock already twitching just from the way it clung to me.

Jan pointed at the kitchen counter, her lips curling into that wicked smirk. “Lean over it and wait for me, sissy.” The worktop was ice-cold against my chest as I bent over, the bodystocking stretching taut, my exposed bits pressed against the edge. I waited, heart pounding, the anticipation making my skin buzz. I heard her leave the room, then come back, the air shifting as she stepped close. I glanced back and nearly fucking lost it—Jan was standing there, her own lingerie swapped for a strap-on, the black silicone cock jutting out, gleaming under the kitchen light. She was already squeezing lube onto it, her eyes locked on me as she worked it over the shaft, slow and deliberate.

“You naughty, dirty fucking sissy,” she said, her voice low and dripping with filth. “Look at you, bent over, begging for it.” She didn’t bother with foreplay—no teasing circles, no slow build like before. She stepped up, grabbed my hips, and rammed that cock straight up my ass, hard and fast. The stretch was intense, a sharp burn that melted into pleasure as she started fucking me, each thrust deep and relentless. “Bet you’re wishing this was a real cock, aren’t you, you filthy slut?” she taunted, her words hitting as hard as her hips. I gripped the counter, moaning, the bodystocking rubbing against my skin, my cock bouncing free, dripping precum onto the floor.

I didn’t last long. The pounding, her voice, the way the bodystocking left me exposed—it was too fucking much. My cock pulsed, and I spunked hard, hands-free, a heavy load splattering the floor and streaking the cabinet below. Jan laughed, a sharp, triumphant sound, but she didn’t stop, her strap-on driving into me, each thrust pushing me through the aftershocks. “Look at that mess, you dirty sissy,” she said, her pace unflinching. The joy was indescribable, a raw, overwhelming rush as she kept going, my body responding despite the orgasm, my cock stirring again, hardening against the cold counter.

She reached around, her hand wrapping around my cock, still slick with my own cum, and started wanking me vigorously, her grip tight and unrelenting. “Fuck, you’re hard again already,” she growled, her strap-on still buried in me. “You love this, don’t you?” I could barely think, the pleasure overloading every fucking nerve. “I’m gonna come again, Jan!” I shouted, my voice hoarse, desperate.

With that, she pulled out, the sudden emptiness making me gasp. She spun me around, dropped to her knees, and took my cock in her mouth, her lips hot and hungry. “Fuck my mouth, sissy,” she yelled, her eyes blazing up at me. I grabbed her head, thrusting into her mouth, but I was already on the edge. The first spurt hit the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, pulling back just enough to hiss, “Come on, sissy, empty that cock of yours on my face.” Her hand kept wanking me, fast and rough, as I came again, ropes of spunk hitting her cheeks, her chin, glistening on her skin as I groaned, completely fucking spent.

We stumbled to the sofa, collapsing in a heap—me in the pink bodystocking, my cock limp and exposed, her with the strap-on still on, glistening with lube, and my cum streaked across her face. She looked at me, grinning like the devil. “Clean this spunk off my face,” she demanded, her voice sharp. I started to get up, reaching for the kitchen roll on the counter, but she grabbed my arm. “No, sissy. With your tongue.”

I froze, caught in the moment, too fucking deep in the haze to question her. I leaned in, my tongue sliding over her cheek, tasting the salt of my own cum, licking her clean as she watched me, her eyes dark with approval. “Good sissy,” she said, her voice softer now but still laced with that filthy edge. “Maybe you do want a real cock. Seems like you’ve got a taste for spunk.”

I laughed, my face burning, still reeling from the intensity of it all. “Fuck you,” I said, but there was no heat in it, just a shaky grin. “You’re the one pushing me into this shit.”

She leaned back, the strap-on bobbing as she stretched, her face now clean but still flushed. “And you’re fucking loving it, you kinky bastard. What’s next, huh? You gonna beg for the real thing?”

My pulse jumped, her words hitting that same raw nerve from last night. I didn’t know if I was ready to go that far, but the way she said it, the way she owned this whole twisted game, made me wonder just how much further we could push. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll have to find out,” I said, my voice rough but teasing. She smirked, pulling me close, her lips brushing mine, tasting faintly of me.

“Bet I will,” she whispered. “Tomorrow, you pick the outfit. And maybe I’ll bring home something bigger.” We laughed, tangled together on the sofa, the night heavy with the promise of more—dirtier, wilder, and fucking uncharted.

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By *asher72Man
1 week ago

Newton Abbot

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

I was elbow-deep in dirt at work, the JCB rumbling under me, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Jan’s name flashed on the screen, and I killed the engine to answer, already braced for some kind of chaos. Her voice came through, all apologetic and rushed. “Babe, I’m so sorry,” she started, “Crissy called, and she’s having a shit time with Richard. She’s coming over tonight with him for drinks and nibbles. You mind? I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

I leaned back in the seat, the day’s heat sticking to my skin. “Yeah, no problem,” I said, keeping my tone light, but inside I was fucking gutted. No pink bodystocking, no strap-on, no Jan calling me her dirty sissy tonight. Just Crissy, her screechy enthusiasm, and her plank of a husband, Richard—or Dick, as I called him, because the guy was about as exciting as a wet sock. “Sounds good,” I lied. “See you later.”

“Love you,” she said, and I could hear the smirk in her voice, like she knew I was secretly sulking. “You won’t regret it.”

I hung up, muttering “fucking hell” under my breath, and got back to work, the day dragging even slower now with the promise of our kinky nights on hold. By the time I clocked off, I was in a mood, the anticipation of Jan’s “making it up to me” the only thing keeping me from being a complete grumpy bastard. I skipped Aldi this time—no cider or microwave shit needed since Crissy and Dick were invading—and headed straight home.

Jan was already buzzing around the kitchen when I got in, setting out bowls of crisps and some posh dip she’d probably nicked from the store. She was still in her work polo, hair loose, and shot me a quick grin. “You’re a star for this,” she said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Crissy’s a mess, needs a night to vent. I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, cracking a half-smile, still pissed about the derail but softening under her charm. “Better be fucking spectacular.”

She laughed, swatting my arse. “Oh, it will be, you sissy fucker.”

Just after 7:00 PM, the doorbell rang, and Crissy burst in like a bloody tornado. She brushed past me, her perfume hitting like a wall, and planted a quick kiss on my cheek before screeching, “Jaaaan!” like they hadn’t seen each other in decades. The two of them collided in the kitchen, hugging and doing that weird dance girls do, giggling and spinning like they were back in uni. I rolled my eyes, catching Dick trailing in behind her, looking as thrilled as a man headed to a root canal.

He shook my hand, his grip limp as always, and mumbled, “Sorry, mate, not my idea. Brought some cans, though.” He held up a Tesco bag, the clink of cheap lager promising a long fucking night. Dick was tall, balding, and had the personality of a spreadsheet—hence the nickname. Crissy, all blonde curls and loud laughs, was Jan’s best mate of twenty-plus years, but I’d never quite got the appeal. She was fun, sure, but exhausting, and Dick was just… there.

“Cheers,” I said, taking the bag and tossing it on the counter. “Make yourself at home, mate.” He nodded, already scanning for a corner to disappear into, while Crissy dragged Jan to the sofa, already mid-rant about some drama I didn’t care to follow. I cracked open a can, handed one to Dick, and settled in for the evening, the thought of Jan’s promise—I’ll make it up to you—the only thing keeping me from mentally checking out. I could still feel the ghost of that pink bodystocking, Jan’s strap-on, her filthy words, and it took everything not to let my mind wander too far while Crissy’s voice filled the room like a fucking megaphone. Tonight was gonna be a test of patience, but Jan’s smirk from earlier told me tomorrow might just blow my fucking mind.

An hour or so dragged by, the living room thick with Crissy’s chatter and the clink of glasses. Dick and I sat there, nursing our cans of cheap lager, while the girls sprawled on the sofa, their voices dropping from screechy to something quieter, more conspiratorial. Every now and then, they’d glance over at us, giggling like schoolgirls with a secret. Jan caught my eye and winked, her lips curling in that way that made my stomach flip, but Crissy’s smug smirk was new—sharp, like she was in on something I wasn’t. “Dick, love, refill our glasses,” she said, her tone all sugar but with a bite that made it clear it wasn’t a request. Dick jumped up like a trained dog, grabbing the wine bottle from the kitchen and topping them up, then brought fresh cans for us without a word.

I leaned back, cracking open the new can, and muttered to him, “She always like that, Dick?”

He sighed, slumping into his chair, the kind of resigned look you get when you’ve been married to a hurricane for too long. “Most of the time, mate. Crissy can be a right bitch when she wants, so I just go with the flow. Keeps the peace.”

I snorted, taking a swig. “Fucking hell, mate, you’re a saint.” But I got it—Crissy was a force, and Dick was the type to bend rather than break. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing with the girls, their hushed whispers and sly glances setting off alarms in my head.

Jan’s voice cut through the room, loud and bright. “Oi, love! Crissy’s invited us over to theirs tomorrow night. Drinks, dinner, the works!”

My heart sank like a fucking stone. Another night of no fun, no pink lace, no Jan bending me over with that strap-on and her filthy mouth. I forced a smile, but inside I was cursing. “Sounds great,” I said, my tone flat enough that Jan raised an eyebrow, catching my mood. Crissy just grinned wider, like she was enjoying my misery, and I wondered if she had any clue what she was interrupting. Probably not, but that smirk of hers was starting to piss me off.

“Gonna be a laugh,” Crissy chimed in, swirling her wine. “You boys can handle it, right?” Her eyes flicked to Dick, who just nodded like a robot, then to me, and I swear there was a challenge in her stare. Jan winked again, and I couldn’t tell if she was trying to reassure me or stir the pot.

I took another gulp of lager, the cold fizz doing fuck-all to lift my mood. “Yeah, sure,” I said, glancing at Jan, hoping she’d catch the hint that I was already itching for her to “make it up to me” like she’d promised. The thought of another night stuck with Crissy’s loud laugh and Dick’s blank stare was grim, but Jan’s wink kept me tethered to the hope of what might come after. Maybe she’d sneak in something tomorrow, some quick, dirty moment to keep our streak alive. For now, I just had to survive this evening, the girls’ giggles and glances making me wonder what the fuck they were plotting—and whether I’d like it or hate it.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

The night with Crissy and Dick finally wrapped up just after 10:00 PM, thank fuck. We stood at the door, waving them off as their car’s taillights faded down the street, Crissy’s laugh still echoing in my head like a bad song. My mind was already racing back to playtime, the pink bodystocking, Jan’s strap-on, her calling me her dirty sissy—fuck, I was ready to dive back in. But when we got inside, Jan was swaying a bit, her cheeks flushed from the wine. “Babe, I’m fucking knackered and way too pissed,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “Need to sleep. You can wank if you want, though.”

My stomach dropped. A solo wank was not the filthy, lace-fueled chaos I’d been craving. “Nah, I’m good,” I muttered, trying to hide my disappointment. She gave me a sleepy grin, kissed my cheek, and we crashed hard, sleeping like we’d been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

The next day was the usual slog—JCB grinding my soul to dust, Jan probably wrestling with another retail shitshow. We got home around the same time, both of us beat. Jan bolted for the shower while I kicked off my boots, and by the time I got my turn under the hot water, I was half-hoping she’d be waiting with something kinky to make up for last night’s bust. I stepped out, towel around my waist, and found her in the bedroom, already dressed—tight jeans, a black top that hugged her curves, combing her hair with that focused look she gets. On the bed, she’d laid out my clothes: chinos, a red shirt, proper smart-casual for Crissy’s dinner.

I reached for my boxers, but Jan tutted, sharp and commanding. “No, no, no, sissy. You wear this tonight.” She tossed the bright pink crotchless bodystocking at me, the same one from that wild night, its lace glinting under the bedroom light.

“Jan, what the fuck?” I exclaimed, holding it up, my heart already kicking into overdrive. “We’re going to Crissy’s!”

She cut me off, her voice low and dangerous. “Put it on, sissy, like a good boy, or you’ll regret it.” Her eyes had that glint, the one that said she wasn’t fucking around, and my cock twitched just hearing her tone.

I didn’t know what “regret it” meant, but if it risked missing out on her fucking me senseless later, I wasn’t taking chances. I dropped the towel, my skin still damp, and slid into the bodystocking. The lace hugged me tight, leaving my cock and balls exposed, the sensation instantly electric, my dick already half-hard as the stockings gripped my thighs. I pulled on the chinos and red shirt over it, the fabric of the trousers brushing against the lace, making every move a fucking tease. I turned to Jan, suddenly paranoid. “You sure no one can tell? This shit’s not exactly subtle.”

She stepped close, her fingers tracing the outline of the bodystocking through my shirt, her smirk pure evil. “No one’ll know, sissy. Just you and me. But you’ll feel it all fucking night, won’t you?” She kissed me hard, her tongue flicking against mine, then pulled back. “Be good at Crissy’s, and I’ll make the other night look tame.”

I swallowed, my cock straining against the lace and chinos, the promise of her words burning through me. We grabbed our keys and headed out, the bodystocking a secret buzzing under my skin as we drove to Crissy’s. Every shift in the car seat, every brush of fabric, reminded me of what I was wearing, what Jan had planned. I didn’t know how I’d survive dinner with Crissy’s yammering and Dick’s dead-eyed stare, knowing I was laced up like her “good sissy” under my clothes, but one thing was fucking clear: Jan was gonna make good on her promise, and I was already counting the seconds till we got home.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

Little did I fucking know, the night was about to take a turn straight into the twilight zone. We pulled up to Crissy and Dick’s place, the air thick with the promise of Jan’s “make it up to you” hanging over me like a tease. I was already buzzing, the pink crotchless bodystocking clinging to me under my chinos and red shirt, every step a reminder of the lace hugging my cock and balls. I grabbed the cans I’d brought—some cheap lager to keep things civil—and Dick greeted us at the door, looking as thrilled as a man facing a tax audit. Crissy swooped in, kissing my cheek with her usual over-the-top energy, her perfume hitting me like a slap. “Jaaaan!” she squealed, and they were off again, hugging and giggling like they hadn’t just seen each other last night.

Dick mumbled, “I’ll get drinks,” and handed me a vodka and , strong enough to strip paint, while pouring wine for the girls. A pan was bubbling on the stove, the rich smell of stew filling the kitchen, and the girls’ chatter flowed like they were scripting a rom-com. Dick downed his drink like it was water, urging me to keep up, his eyes darting nervously. “Pretty sure you’ll need this,” he said, topping me up before I’d even finished the first.

I raised an eyebrow, the vodka burning my throat. “What’s that supposed to mean, mate?”

He just shrugged, suddenly coy, his face unreadable. “Dunno, just… keep drinking.” It was a Friday night, Saturday was free, so I matched him, one for one, the buzz loosening me up despite the bodystocking’s constant tease. By the third vodka, I was feeling it, loose and reckless, so I pressed him again. “Seriously, Dick, what’s with the ‘you’ll need this’ shit?”

He squirmed, shrugging again, his eyes flicking toward the girls. “Nothing, mate. Just… you’ll see.”

I needed to piss, the vodka hitting my bladder, so I excused myself and headed for the downstairs cloakroom. Halfway there, it hit me like a fucking brick—I was wearing the bodystocking, that pink lace leaving my cock and balls dangling under my chinos. Panic spiked, my heart hammering as I locked the door and fumbled with my zip, the lace rubbing against me, making it damn near impossible to relax enough to piss. I stood there, willing my dick to cooperate, when the door swung open—fuck, I’d forgotten to double-check the lock—and Jan was standing there, smirking like the devil.

“Trust me,” she said, her voice low and dripping with promise, “tonight’s gonna be fun.”

I forced a smile, my cock finally letting loose a stream as I tried not to die inside. “Fun” with Crissy and Dick sounded like another night of torture, not the filthy, strap-on-fueled chaos I was craving. Jan patted my arse, the lace sparking under her touch, and I followed her back to the front room, my head spinning with vodka and dread.

Crissy was dishing up the stew, the smell so good it almost distracted me from my misery. Dick shoved another vodka at me, and we gathered around the table—except Crissy stopped short, her voice sharp. “Not you, Richard. You’re not dressed accordingly. Come back when you are.”

Dick’s face fell, and he pleaded, “C’mon, Crissy, don’t do this.” But she was fucking adamant, her eyes glinting with that same smug smirk from last night. Dick skulked off, shoulders slumped, and Jan and Crissy both turned to me, their smiles loaded with something I couldn’t read. The stew was fucking delicious, rich and hearty, and I was just washing down a bite with a swig of vodka when Dick came back. I fucking coughed, spraying vodka across the table, my eyes bugging out.

Dick was in a full-on sissy maid outfit—black lace dress, frilly white apron, a wig of dark curls, and makeup so heavy it looked like he’d been done up for a drag show. Lipstick, eyeliner, the works. He stood there, hands clasped, and said in a quiet, submissive voice, “Thank you, Miss. I’m ready to serve you.”

Crissy clapped her hands, delighted, while Jan laughed, her eyes flicking to me like she was checking my reaction. I was fucking floored, the vodka burning in my chest, the bodystocking suddenly feeling like a spotlight under my clothes. Dick, the dullest bastard I knew, was standing there in a maid dress, and the girls were acting like this was just another Friday night. My mind raced—Jan’s wink, Crissy’s smirk, Dick’s cryptic “you’ll need this.” What the fuck was going on? And more importantly, did they know about the pink lace under my chinos? I took another swig, my cock twitching despite myself, and braced for whatever the hell this night was about to throw at us.

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By *traightdiscreetnaughtyMan
1 week ago

bucks

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

Crissy’s voice cut through the room, sharp and playful. “Richard, top up our drinks, love.” Dick, still in his sissy maid getup—frilly apron, wig slightly askew—scurried over with the vodka bottle. When he got to me, he poured what had to be half a fucking glass, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “Slow down, Dick,” I said, half-laughing, half-serious, the buzz from the earlier drinks already making my head swim. “You’ll have me pissed in no time.”

Crissy cackled from the sofa, sprawling like she owned the place. “Oh, he’ll have you, alright!” she said, and her and Jan fucking lost it, doubling over with laughter, wine nearly spilling from their glasses. My mind was racing, the vodka and the pink crotchless bodystocking under my chinos making every nerve feel like it was on fire. Were they just taking the piss, or was there something more to this? Jan’s wink from earlier, Crissy’s smug smirks, Dick’s cryptic “you’ll need this”—it was all starting to feel like a setup, and the bodystocking rubbing against my cock wasn’t helping me think straight.

We finished the stew, which was honestly fucking top-notch, and Dick jumped up like a well-trained servant, clearing the plates without a word. He stacked the dishwasher, his maid dress swishing as he moved, and then stood in front of Crissy, hands clasped, head slightly bowed. “All done, Miss,” he mumbled, his voice soft but steady, like he’d done this a hundred times. Crissy grinned, sipping her wine, while Jan leaned back, her eyes glinting as she tormented him with little jabs. “Good girl, Richard,” Jan teased, and Crissy snorted, both of them clearly loving the power trip.

Then their gazes turned to me, their smirks bigger than fucking ever. I shifted in my seat, the lace of the bodystocking teasing my exposed cock and balls, making me hyper-aware of every move. Crissy leaned forward, her wine glass dangling lazily. “Ever thought about being a sissy, love?” she said, her voice dripping with mischief. The girls burst out laughing again, the sound sharp and relentless, like they were in on the world’s biggest joke.

I felt my face burn, a mix of vodka, embarrassment, and the fucking bodystocking making me feel like I was under a spotlight. I glared at Jan, my eyes screaming, What the fuck? But she just winked again, her smile lazy and confident. “Relax, babe,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Tonight’s gonna be fun.” Crissy’s knowing look didn’t help—her smile was sharp, like she could see right through my chinos to the pink lace underneath. My cock twitched despite myself, the vodka loosening my grip on the panic creeping up my spine.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, taking a gulp of the oversized vodka, trying to play it cool while my mind spun. Did Crissy know? Had Jan told her? The way they were giggling, the way Dick was just… going along with this maid shit, it felt like I was the last one to get the memo. I shot Jan another look, but she just raised her glass, her eyes promising something wild later. Crissy leaned closer to Jan, whispering something that set them off giggling again, and Dick stood there, silent, his makeup smudged but his posture still weirdly submissive.

“Alright, what’s the fucking deal?” I said, trying to sound more annoyed than nervous, the vodka making my tongue looser than it should’ve been. “You lot planning something, or is this just you taking the piss?”

Crissy grinned, all teeth and trouble. “Oh, just having a laugh, love. Unless you’ve got something to share?” Her eyes flicked to Jan, who bit her lip, barely holding back another laugh.

Jan leaned forward, her hand brushing my knee under the table, sending a jolt through the bodystocking. “Told you, babe. Fun. Just go with it.” Her voice was all honey and heat, but it did fuck-all to calm the storm in my head. I was trapped—half-pissed, half-hard, and fully aware that whatever was coming next was gonna turn this night into something I’d either never forget or desperately want to. I took another swig, the vodka burning, and braced myself for whatever these two had cooked up, the pink lace under my clothes feeling like a fucking ticking time bomb.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

The vodka was hitting hard, my head fuzzy as I stumbled back to the downstairs cloakroom, the pink crotchless bodystocking rubbing against my cock with every step, a constant fucking reminder of Jan’s earlier command. I locked the door this time—swore I did—but mid-piss, the door swung open, and I snapped, “What the fuck, Jan?” without looking, my stream still going strong. “What the fuck is going on?”

I turned slightly, ready to give her hell, and fucking hell, it wasn’t Jan. Crissy stood there, her smirk wider than ever, eyes glinting like she’d just won the lottery. The shock hit me like a brick, and I fumbled, pissing right onto my chinos, the wet patch spreading across the thigh. “Oh dear,” Crissy said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “That’ll never do.”

Before I could even process, she yelled, “Richard!” and Dick appeared like a fucking apparition, still in his sissy maid dress, wig slightly crooked, makeup smudged but obedient as ever. “Sort this out,” Crissy demanded, pointing at me like I was a spilled glass of wine.

Dick stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Give me the trousers, mate. I’ll get ‘em washed and dried for you.”

“Fuck off,” I snapped, clutching my chinos, the wet fabric clinging to my leg. The bodystocking was right there under it, and no way in hell was I letting Dick—or Crissy—see what I was hiding. My face was burning, heart pounding, the vodka making everything feel like a fever dream.

I shoved past them, back to the lounge, my wet chinos chafing with every step. Jan and Crissy were sprawled on the sofa, wine glasses in hand, but their faces dropped when they saw me—Jan’s eyes narrowing, Crissy’s lips twitching with disappointment. “What’s the holdup, love?” Jan said, her voice sharp but teasing. “Get those clothes off for washing. You’re a mess.”

I was crimson, fucking mortified, standing there with piss-soaked chinos and a secret that felt like it was about to explode. “Jan, come on,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice low, but Crissy was already on the move, sidling over with that predatory grin. She grabbed my belt, her fingers quick and bold.

“Jan’s told me,” she said, her voice low, almost a purr, as she locked eyes with me. “So let’s see.”

The vodka wasn’t helping, my hands clumsy as I tried to hold onto my belt, but Crissy was faster, unhooking the buckle with a flick. In a fucking jiffy, my chinos were around my ankles, the pink crotchless bodystocking exposed in all its glory—lace hugging my body, cock and balls swinging free, already half-hard from the sheer insanity of it all. Jan burst out laughing, clapping her hands, while Crissy stepped back, appraising me like I was a piece of art. “Well, fuck me,” Crissy said, her smirk turning into a full-on grin. “Jan wasn’t lying. You’re a proper sissy, aren’t you?”

I wanted to die, my face so red it could’ve lit the room, but Jan just leaned forward, wine glass dangling, her eyes blazing with that filthy mischief. “Told you it’d be fun,” she said, winking. “Look at you, all pink and pretty. Crissy’s impressed, aren’t you?”

Crissy nodded, circling me, her fingers brushing the lace on my hip. “Oh, I’m impressed, alright. Richard’s got competition.” She glanced at Dick, who was standing there, maid dress swishing, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or relieved.

“Fuck’s sake, Jan,” I muttered, my voice shaky, the vodka and the exposure making my head spin. My cock betrayed me, twitching under their stares, the bodystocking only amplifying the heat pooling in my gut. “This your idea of fun? Humiliating me in front of your mate?”

Jan stood, sauntering over, her hand sliding up my chest, catching the lace of the bra. “Humiliating? Nah, love. This is you being my good fucking sissy. And Crissy’s loving the show.” She leaned in, whispering so only I could hear, “Play along, and I’ll make it worth every second when we get home.”

Crissy laughed, pouring another round of wine. “Don’t be shy, love. Richard’s been my little maid for years. You and Jan are just catching up.” She patted Dick’s arse, and he flinched but didn’t say a word, just stood there, ready to serve.

I was trapped, the pink lace a fucking spotlight, my chinos still around my ankles, and the girls’ laughter ringing in my ears. But Jan’s whisper, her promise, kept me tethered. I took a deep breath, the vodka giving me just enough courage to lean into this fucked-up night. “Fine,” I said, kicking the chinos off completely, standing there in nothing but the bodystocking. “What’s next, then?”

Jan’s grin was pure evil, and Crissy clapped like she’d just won a bet. “Oh, this is gonna be a night,” Crissy said, raising her glass. “Dick, fetch the toys. Let’s see how much fun our sissies can handle.” My cock twitched again, and I knew, whatever was coming, it was gonna be wild, filthy, and way beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

Jan’s hand wrapped around my cock, her grip firm and knowing, and it didn’t take much before I was rock fucking hard, the pink crotchless bodystocking leaving me exposed and throbbing under her touch. She pulled me closer, her eyes locked on mine, that wicked glint burning brighter than ever. Her tongue flicked out, licking the precum from my helmet with a slow, deliberate swipe that made my knees buckle. Then she took my whole length into her mouth, warm and wet, sucking me deep right there in Crissy and Dick’s lounge, with them watching. I stood there, fucking exposed, the lace clinging to my skin, humiliated but so turned on I could barely think, my wife blowing me in front of our friends like it was just another Friday night.

Dick stood off to the side, his sissy maid dress swishing slightly, his face blank but his eyes fixed on us. I caught a glimpse of his skirt, the faint outline of his cock hardening underneath, betraying whatever poker face he was trying to keep. Jan pulled off my cock with a wet pop, her lips shiny, and before I could catch my breath, Crissy fucking took over. I froze, my head spinning—what the fuck?—as her mouth closed around me, sucking hard, her blonde curls bouncing as she worked me. I shot a panicked look at Jan, but she just smiled, cool as anything, like she’d planned this shit. Crissy paused, pulling back just enough to smirk. “Good sissy,” she purred, then, “Dirty fucking sissy,” before diving back in, her tongue swirling, making my cock throb even harder.

Jan joined in, leaning close, her breath hot on my neck as she whispered, “Look at you, my filthy sissy, loving this.” Her words were a mix of praise and taunt, and fuck, I was humiliated, standing there in the pink bodystocking, Crissy’s mouth on me, Jan egging her on, but my cock was screaming how much I was into it. The vodka, the lace, the sheer insanity of it all had me reeling, arousal drowning out the embarrassment.

Crissy pulled back, her lips glistening, and shouted, “Richard, get over here!” Dick snapped to attention, scurrying over in his maid dress, his wig slightly askew. “Yes, Miss,” he muttered, his voice soft but obedient.

“On your knees, Richard,” Crissy ordered, her tone sharp. He dropped like a fucking stone, hands clasped, murmuring, “Thank you, Miss,” like it was second nature. I had no fucking clue what was happening, my head a mess of vodka and lust, Crissy’s mouth having left my cock painfully hard. Jan watched, her smirk growing, encouraging Crissy with a nod as she kept calling me names—sissy slut, dirty boy, her good little fucktoy.

Then Crissy grabbed Dick’s head, guiding it toward my cock. I reeled back, my heart pounding. “Whoa, fuck no,” I stammered, but Jan was right there, her hands on my arse, pushing me forward. “A mouth’s a mouth, love,” she said, her voice low and filthy, cupping my balls and squeezing gently, just enough to make me gasp.

“Suck him, Richard,” Crissy demanded, and Dick—fucking Dick—said, “Yes, Miss,” grabbed my cock, and took it into his mouth. I was shocked, fucking floored, my mind screaming that this was insane—a guy, dressed as a sissy maid, sucking me off while our wives watched. Jan’s hands stayed on my arse, pushing me deeper into Dick’s mouth, his lips surprisingly warm and eager, his tongue working in ways I didn’t expect. The sensation was unreal, nothing like I’d ever felt, a mix of taboo and raw fucking pleasure that had my knees shaking. Never had a guy sucked me, let alone one in a frilly dress and makeup, deep-throating me like it was his job.

The girls were fucking loving it, Crissy clapping like it was a show, Jan laughing, her eyes blazing with pride and mischief. “Look at that, my sissy getting sucked by another sissy,” she taunted, her hand still squeezing my balls, keeping me on edge. It was kind of fucking funny, in a twisted way—Dick, the dullest bastard I knew, deep-throating my dick while I stood there in pink lace, our wives cheering like it was a sport.

I couldn’t hold out long, the sensation too intense, Dick’s mouth relentless, Jan’s hands and words pushing me over. “Fuck, Jan, I’m gonna—” I started, but before I could finish, Jan pulled me back, spinning me toward her. She dropped to her knees, taking my cock in her mouth again, sucking hard, her tongue swirling as Crissy watched, still taunting Dick to “keep up, sissy.” I came hard, groaning, my load hitting Jan’s throat as she swallowed, pulling back just to let the last spurt hit her chin, smirking up at me.

We collapsed onto the sofa, me still in the bodystocking, cock limp and spent, Jan’s face glistening, Crissy grinning like she’d orchestrated the whole fucking thing. Dick knelt nearby, his maid dress rumpled, his own cock still tenting the skirt. Crissy leaned over, wiping Jan’s chin with a finger and licking it clean, her eyes never leaving mine. “Well, sissy,” she said, “you and Richard make quite the pair. Ready for round two?”

Jan laughed, her hand resting on my thigh, the lace still sparking under her touch. “What do you say, love? Wanna see how much filthier this can get?” My head was still spinning, the vodka and the shock of Dick’s mouth mixing with Jan’s promise. I was fucking done for, but the way my cock twitched at her words told me I was ready for whatever these two had planned next. “Bring it,” I said, voice hoarse, and the girls’ laughter filled the room, promising a night that’d make the last one look tame.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
1 week ago

Launceston

My head was still reeling, cock limp in the pink crotchless bodystocking, the taste of vodka and the insanity of what just happened burning through me. Jan lounged beside me on the sofa, her face still flushed, a smear of my cum on her chin that Crissy had just licked off like it was fucking dessert. Dick knelt nearby, his sissy maid dress crumpled, his own cock still pushing against the frilly skirt, his face blank but his eyes darting nervously. Crissy was sprawled across from us, wine glass in hand, her smirk so smug it could’ve lit the room on fire. The air was thick with tension, laughter, and something darker—something that said this night was far from fucking over.

Jan’s hand rested on my thigh, her fingers brushing the lace, sending sparks through me despite being spent. “So,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “you handled that like a proper sissy, didn’t you? Dick’s mouth wasn’t half bad, was it?” She winked, and Crissy cackled, raising her glass like she was toasting my humiliation.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, my face burning, but my cock twitched at her words, betraying me again. “Didn’t expect that when you said tonight would be fun.”

Crissy leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, love, we’re just getting started. Richard’s been my good little maid for years, but you and Jan? You’re new to the game, and I fucking love it.” She turned to Dick, who was still kneeling, waiting for orders. “Richard, fetch the bag from the bedroom. Let’s see how much more our new sissy can take.”

Dick muttered, “Yes, Miss,” and scurried off, his heels clicking on the hardwood. I shot Jan a look, my heart pounding. “What the fuck’s in the bag, Jan?” I hissed, the vodka making my tongue loose but my nerves tight. “You set this up, didn’t you?”

She grinned, leaning in to kiss my neck, her lips grazing the lace of the bodystocking. “Not all of it,” she whispered. “Crissy’s been dropping hints about their kinky shit for years, but when I told her about us—your pink lace, the strap-on—she fucking jumped at it. Said she wanted to see you in action.” Her hand slid lower, brushing my exposed cock, making me flinch. “And you’re loving it, you dirty fucker.”

Before I could argue, Dick was back, holding a black velvet bag that looked like it belonged in a sex shop dungeon. Crissy took it, pulling out a strap-on—bigger than Jan’s, black and shiny, with a harness that screamed trouble. My stomach flipped, arousal and panic crashing together. “Oh, fuck no,” I said, half-laughing, half-serious, but Jan’s hand on my thigh tightened, keeping me in place.

“Relax, sissy,” Crissy said, standing to buckle the strap-on around her hips, the silicone cock bobbing as she adjusted it. “Jan says you love it up the arse. Let’s see how you handle this one.” She squirted lube onto it, working it over the shaft with a grin that made my cock stir despite myself. Jan laughed, her hand now stroking me gently, coaxing me back to hardness.

“Get on all fours, love,” Jan ordered, her voice firm but warm. “Show Crissy what a good sissy you are.” I hesitated, the room spinning, but the vodka, the lace, and Jan’s filthy encouragement pushed me past the edge. I dropped to my knees on the rug, face down, arse up, the bodystocking leaving me completely exposed. Crissy stepped behind me, her hands gripping my hips, the cold lube dripping as she teased my hole with the tip of the strap-on.

“Such a dirty fucking sissy,” Crissy purred, circling the tip, slow and deliberate, the slick pressure making me gasp. She didn’t ease in like Jan—she pushed forward, the stretch sharp and intense, filling me as I groaned into the rug. Jan knelt beside me, her fingers tangling in my hair, whispering, “Take it, you slut. Show them how much you love it.” The mix of pain and pleasure was fucking unreal, Crissy’s thrusts steady and deep, hitting that spot that made my cock leak precum onto the rug, the bodystocking’s lace amplifying every sensation.

Dick watched, still kneeling, his own cock now fully hard under his skirt, his eyes wide but silent. Crissy noticed, laughing as she fucked me. “Look at Richard, getting off on this. You want a turn, don’t you, sissy?” Dick muttered, “Yes, Miss,” and I couldn’t believe this was my fucking life—bent over in pink lace, Crissy’s strap-on pounding me, Jan egging her on, and Dick waiting for his turn like a good little maid.

Jan’s hand found my cock again, stroking in time with Crissy’s thrusts, her voice a filthy chant. “Come for us, sissy. Show Crissy what a good boy you are.” I couldn’t hold back, the pressure building too fast, and I came hard, a thick load spilling onto the rug, my body shaking as Crissy kept going, relentless. Jan laughed, kissing my cheek, then turned to Crissy. “Your turn,” she said, grabbing the rabbit vibrator from the bag.

Crissy pulled out, leaving me gasping, and stripped off the strap-on, lying back on the sofa. Jan took over, sliding the rabbit into her, the buzz filling the room as Crissy moaned, her legs spreading wide. I watched, still trembling, as Jan fucked her with the toy, Crissy’s curses and gasps mixing with Jan’s dirty talk. “Take it, you bitch,” Jan said, grinning, the rabbit’s clit stimulator making Crissy writhe until she came, screaming, her body arching off the sofa.

We were a fucking mess—me in the bodystocking, cum on the rug, Crissy panting, Jan grinning like she’d just won the lottery. Dick was still kneeling, his cock straining, and Crissy pointed at him. “Clean this up, sissy,” she said, nodding at the rug. He grabbed a cloth, but Jan stopped him, tossing me a wink. “No, Richard. With your tongue. Both of you.”

My jaw dropped, but Jan’s hand was on my neck, guiding me down beside Dick. “Do it, sissy,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. We licked the rug clean, the taste of my own cum sharp and humiliating, Dick’s breath heavy beside me. The girls watched, sipping wine, their laughter ringing as we obeyed.

When we finished, Jan pulled me to the sofa, her lips crashing into mine. “Fucking hell, you’re perfect,” she whispered. Crissy smirked, stroking Dick’s wig. “Told you they’d fit right in,” she said. Jan nodded, her hand sliding to my cock, already stirring again. “Tomorrow, we’re back at ours,” she said. “And I’m picking something even filthier.” I groaned, knowing we’d just crossed a line we could never uncross, and fuck, I was already hard thinking about what came next.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
6 days ago

Launceston

Crissy’s voice sliced through the room like a whip. “Richard!” she yelled, her tone sharp and commanding. “You can pleasure yourself now. No cock for you, sissy.”

Dick’s head snapped up, still kneeling in his frilly maid dress, the wig crooked and makeup smudged. “Yes, Miss,” he muttered, his voice submissive but eager. He hitched up his skirt, revealing a pair of fluffy pink sissy panties, the kind that screamed humiliation and somehow made his cock look even harder as it strained against the lace. He didn’t hesitate, wrapping his hand around himself and wanking like there was no fucking tomorrow, his breath hitching as he muttered, “Thank you, Miss, for allowing me to pleasure myself.” The words spilled out like a mantra, desperate and practiced, his hand moving fast, the pink fluff bouncing with every stroke.

Jan giggled beside me, her hand still resting on my thigh, the pink crotchless bodystocking I was wearing rubbing against my skin, my own cock twitching despite the fresh load I’d just spilled on the rug. We watched Dick go at it, his face a mix of shame and relief, his muttering a constant hum of “Thank you, Miss” as Crissy lounged on the sofa, sipping her wine with a grin that said she fucking loved this. I was still reeling from the strap-on, the rug-licking, the whole insane night, my head swimming with vodka and the taste of my own cum lingering on my tongue.

“Stand beside me, Richard,” Crissy ordered, her voice sharp but playful. Dick obeyed instantly, still wanking, his skirt bunched up as he shuffled to her side, his pink panties on full display. “Thank you, Miss,” he kept muttering, his hand a blur, his cock throbbing under the lace. It was fucking surreal, watching this guy I’d always thought was dull as dishwater lose himself in this sissy act, Crissy and Jan lapping it up like it was the best show in town.

In no time, Dick’s voice cracked, desperate. “Miss, may I cum? Please, Miss?”

Crissy tilted her head, pretending to consider it, then nodded. “Go on, sissy. Cum for us.” But just as she said it, her and Jan fucking pounced. They grabbed my head, their hands firm and relentless, pushing me forward until my face was inches from Dick’s cock. I tried to pull back, but Jan’s grip was iron, her laugh ringing in my ears. “Take it, sissy,” she whispered, her voice pure filth. Dick groaned, and before I could react, he unloaded—a thick, long stream of spunk hitting my face, hot and sticky, a squirt catching the corner of my mouth, the taste sharp and shocking. I sputtered, my face burning with humiliation, the pink bodystocking making me feel even more exposed as the girls cackled.

Crissy didn’t miss a beat. She scooped the spunk off my cheek with her finger, smearing it into her wine glass with a flourish, then topped it with a generous splash of vodka. “Drink up, Richard,” she ordered, handing him the glass. Dick, still panting, his cock limp in his pink panties, took it without a word, muttering, “Yes, Miss,” and downed the whole fucking thing, spunk and all, his throat working as he swallowed. Jan laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine, her hand squeezing my thigh, the lace sparking under her touch.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, wiping my face with the back of my hand, the taste of Dick’s cum still lingering, my cock somehow stirring again despite the shock. “You two are fucking mental.”

Crissy grinned, leaning back like a queen on her throne. “Oh, love, you’re one to talk, standing there in your pretty pink lace with a face full of spunk. You’re as mental as we are.” She turned to Jan, raising her glass. “Told you they’d be perfect for this.”

Jan smirked, pulling me close, her lips brushing my ear. “You loved it, you dirty sissy fucker,” she whispered, her fingers grazing my exposed cock, making me flinch. “Bet you’re ready for more.” She glanced at Crissy, then at Dick, who was still standing there, glass empty, looking like he was waiting for his next order. “What do you say, Crissy? Shall we let our sissies play some more?”

Crissy’s eyes lit up, and she stood, grabbing the black velvet bag again. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing,” she said, pulling out a double-ended dildo, long and flexible, gleaming under the light. My jaw dropped, my heart pounding, the vodka and the bodystocking and the sheer fucking insanity of this night pushing me past any sense of normal. “Get on the floor, both of you,” Crissy ordered, pointing at me and Dick. “Let’s see how well our sissies share.”

Jan’s laugh was pure evil, her hand guiding me down as Dick dropped beside me, his pink panties still bunched around his thighs. I was too far gone to argue, the taste of cum, the lace, and Jan’s filthy promises driving me forward. Whatever came next, it was gonna be dirtier than anything we’d done before, and fuck, I was already hard just thinking about it.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 days ago

Launceston

The room was a fucking haze of vodka, sweat, and pure, unfiltered debauchery. Dick and I were on the floor, the pink crotchless bodystocking clinging to my skin, my cock and balls swinging free as the girls loomed over us, the double-ended dildo in their hands glistening with lube. Jan’s eyes were wild, Crissy’s smirk sharper than a blade as they ordered us to shuffle close, on our backs, arse cheeks nearly touching. The rug scratched at my skin, but the anticipation was electric, my cock already twitching despite the insanity of what we’d just done.

Jan didn’t waste time. She rammed her half of the dildo straight up my arse, the stretch easy but intense, my hole still slack from Crissy’s earlier pounding with the strap-on. I groaned, the sensation sharp and deep, filling me as my cock leaked precum onto my stomach. Dick, beside me, had a butt plug lodged in his arse, and Crissy wasn’t gentle—she yanked it out with a pop, his gasp muffled as she slid her half of the dildo into him, smooth and practiced, like he was made for it. “Good sissy,” Crissy purred, her voice dripping with mockery as she worked the toy.

The girls fucked us in sync, Jan thrusting into me, the dildo sliding out of Dick, then Crissy pushing back, driving it deeper into him and pulling it from me. The rhythm was unreal, a seesaw of pleasure and pressure that had me moaning, my cock throbbing against the lace, precum pooling on my skin. Dick was panting beside me, his pink sissy panties bunched around his thighs, his own cock hard and leaking. The girls laughed, their voices a mix of taunts and encouragement, Jan calling me her “filthy fucking sissy” while Crissy mocked Dick’s desperate whimpers.

Then Jan stood, her jeans and panties hitting the floor in one swift move. She straddled my face, her cunt soaking wet, dripping as she lowered herself onto me. “Lick it, sissy,” she ordered, and I dove in, my tongue frantic, lapping at her clit, tasting her arousal as she ground against me, her moans loud and raw. She was close, her thighs trembling, but before she came, she pulled away, leaving me gasping, my face slick with her juices.

Crissy didn’t miss a beat, taking Jan’s place, her own cunt just as wet as she sat on my face. I couldn’t fucking believe it—Crissy, Jan’s best mate, riding my tongue while Jan watched, her laugh ringing out. I licked, sucked, swirled, her hips bucking as she cursed, “Fuck, yes, sissy, eat me!” She came hard, her orgasm shuddering through her, her juices flooding my face as she gripped my hair, then slumped back onto the sofa, panting.

Jan leaned over, her tongue sliding across my cheek, licking Crissy’s cum off me with a grin. “Good boy,” she whispered, then joined Crissy on the sofa, both of them sprawled like queens, wine glasses in hand, their eyes glinting with more plans. “Get on all fours,” Crissy barked at me, her voice sharp. I didn’t hesitate, the vodka and arousal drowning out any shred of shame, my body moving on instinct as I dropped to my knees, arse up, the bodystocking leaving me exposed.

“Richard, you know what to do,” Crissy said, and Dick muttered, “Yes, Miss,” crawling behind me. His hands parted my cheeks, and then his tongue was there, probing deep, rimming my arse with a hunger that made my cock twitch. Crissy mocked him, laughing, “Look at you, getting hard again, you pathetic sissy. Such a good little slut for me.” Dick’s cock was indeed stiffening under his skirt, his muttering “Thank you, Miss” muffled as he licked deeper, his tongue slick and relentless, sending shivers through me.

“Now, Richard,” Crissy demanded, her voice cutting through the room. In one swift move, Dick pulled back, and before I could brace myself, his cock was in my arse, hard and real, fucking me with a force that made me gasp. I’d never had a real cock before—sissy or not—and the sensation was fucking intense, raw, overwhelming. My own cock went rock hard instantly, precum dripping onto the rug, the bodystocking amplifying every thrust as Dick pounded me.

Jan laughed, leaning forward. “See? I fucking knew you wanted real cock, you sissy slut. Even if it’s a sissy cock.” She clapped, egging him on. “Go on, Richard, fuck him hard!” Dick’s pace quickened, his breaths ragged, his cock hitting that spot that made my vision blur. I was groaning, lost in it, the humiliation and arousal twisting together into something fucking euphoric.

“Please, Miss, can I cum?” Dick begged, his voice strained, his thrusts faltering as he tensed. Jan and Crissy screamed in unison, “Yes, sissy, fill him up!” Dick groaned, his cock pulsing as he unloaded inside me, hot and thick, the sensation pushing me to the edge. He pulled out, spent, and Crissy wasn’t done. “Clean him, Richard,” she ordered, and without hesitation, Dick’s tongue was back, licking my arse, cleaning his own cream pie with desperate, obedient strokes.

“Suck him dry, sissy,” Crissy barked, and Dick’s mouth was on my cock in seconds, sucking hard, his lips tight as he took me deep. I was already so close, the rimming and fucking too much, and I came hard, spunk flooding his mouth, making him gag as he struggled to swallow. Jan and Crissy cheered, their laughter filling the room as I collapsed, humiliated but so fucking aroused I could barely breathe.

We slumped onto the sofa, me in the bodystocking, cock limp, Dick’s maid dress a mess, his face smeared with my cum. Jan leaned over, kissing me deep, her tongue tasting of Crissy and me. “You’re fucking perfect,” she whispered, her hand stroking the lace on my thigh. Crissy grinned, patting Dick’s head like a pet. “Told you they’d fit right in,” she said. “Next time, we’re swapping sissies. Richard needs a turn with Jan’s strap-on.”

Jan laughed, her eyes blazing. “Deal. But tomorrow, we’re back at ours, and I’m picking something even filthier for my sissy.” My cock twitched at the thought, already dreading and craving whatever they had planned. The night was done, but this fucked-up, filthy world we’d stumbled into? That was just getting deeper, and I was too far gone to want out.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
3 days ago

Launceston

My head was a fucking mess, sprawled on Crissy and Dick’s sofa, the pink crotchless bodystocking still clinging to my sweat-soaked skin, my cock limp and my arse throbbing from Dick’s pounding and that obscene double-ended dildo. The taste of Crissy’s cum lingered on my lips, mixed with Jan’s kisses, and Dick’s spunk was still a faint burn in my memory from when he’d unloaded on my face earlier. Jan lounged beside me, her jeans back on but her top loose, her eyes glinting with that dangerous mix of pride and mischief. Crissy was sprawled across from us, wine glass dangling, her smirk as sharp as ever, while Dick knelt nearby, his sissy maid dress crumpled, his pink panties still bunched around his thighs, his face a mess of smudged makeup and my cum.

Crissy swirled her wine, eyeing me like a cat with a mouse. “Fuck me, you’re a natural, sissy,” she said, her voice dripping with approval. “Jan said you were game, but I didn’t expect you to take to it like this.” She glanced at Dick, who was still catching his breath, his cock soft but twitching like he was ready for more orders. “Richard’s been my little slut for years, but you? You’re giving him a run for his money.”

Jan laughed, her hand sliding up my thigh, brushing the lace and making my spent cock stir despite itself. “Told you he’s my perfect fucking sissy,” she said, leaning in to nip at my earlobe. “Loved watching you take Dick’s cock. Bet you’re already thinking about the next one.”

I groaned, my face burning, the vodka still buzzing in my veins. “Fuck off, Jan,” I muttered, but there was no heat in it. The truth was, I was still reeling from the intensity—Dick’s mouth, his cock, the girls’ filthy encouragement, the way the bodystocking made every sensation sharper. It was humiliating, fucked-up, and so goddamn hot I couldn’t deny it. “You’re the one who started this shit,” I added, shooting her a look.

She grinned, unapologetic. “And you’re fucking loving it, you dirty bastard.” She turned to Crissy, raising her glass. “So, what’s the plan? You said swapping sissies next time. I’m thinking Dick needs a taste of my strap-on.”

Crissy’s eyes lit up, and she clapped like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, fuck yes. Richard’s arse is well-trained, but he’s never had you in charge, Jan. I want to see him squirm.” She turned to Dick, who was still kneeling, his head bowed. “What do you say, sissy? Ready to be Jan’s little slut?”

“Yes, Miss,” Dick mumbled, his voice soft but eager, his cock twitching again under his skirt. I couldn’t believe this guy—dull as a fucking doorknob in every other context, but here he was, lapping up Crissy’s orders like they were oxygen.

Jan leaned back, her hand still on my thigh, her fingers teasing the edge of the bodystocking. “Tomorrow, we’re back at ours,” she said, her voice low and promising. “I’m picking out something new for you, sissy. Maybe something with a bit more… exposure.” Her grin was pure evil, and my cock gave a weak pulse, already dreading and craving whatever she had in mind.

Crissy stood, stretching, her eyes flicking between me and Dick. “Right, but before you two scamper off, let’s give our sissies one more treat.” She grabbed the black velvet bag again, pulling out a pair of vibrating butt plugs, sleek and menacing. “On your knees, both of you,” she ordered, and Dick dropped instantly, muttering his usual “Yes, Miss.” I hesitated, my body still aching, but Jan’s hand on my neck was firm, guiding me down beside him.

Crissy lubed up the plugs, handing one to Jan. “Let’s see how long they can last,” she said, smirking. Jan knelt behind me, her fingers spreading my cheeks as she teased my hole with the plug, the cold lube making me shiver. “Relax, sissy,” she whispered, her voice filthy and soothing, pushing the plug in slow, the stretch reigniting that raw, electric pleasure. I groaned, my cock twitching as the plug settled, the low buzz kicking in, sending shivers through me. Dick was getting the same treatment, Crissy working his plug in with practiced ease, his moans muffled as he thanked her over and over.

The girls sat back, sipping their wine, watching us squirm on the floor, the plugs buzzing relentlessly. “Look at them,” Crissy said, laughing. “Two sissy sluts, hard and leaking already.” My cock was indeed stirring again, the bodystocking amplifying the vibrations, precum dripping onto the rug. Dick was in the same state, his pink panties soaked, his face a mix of shame and bliss.

Jan leaned forward, her voice sharp. “Wank for us, sissies. Show us how much you love it.” I grabbed my cock, the lace rubbing as I stroked, the plug’s buzz driving me wild. Dick did the same, his hand a blur, muttering “Thank you, Miss” like a broken record. The girls cheered, their laughter filling the room as we jerked off, the humiliation and arousal crashing together. I came first, a weak but intense spurt hitting the rug, my body shaking as the plug kept buzzing. Dick followed, his load splattering his skirt, his voice cracking as he thanked Crissy again.

We collapsed, panting, the plugs still buzzing faintly. Jan pulled hers out of me, kissing my neck. “Good sissy,” she whispered. Crissy did the same to Dick, patting his wig. “Right, you two, clean up and get out,” she said, grinning. “We’ll see you tomorrow for round two.”

We stumbled out, me still in the bodystocking under my spare trousers from Dick’s dryer, Jan’s hand on my arse as we drove home. “You were fucking incredible,” she said, her voice low. “Tomorrow, I’m tying you up. And maybe I’ll let Crissy borrow you.” My cock twitched at the thought, the night’s madness still burning through me. Whatever came next, it was gonna be filthier, wilder, and I was already too deep to back out.

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By *eadar123Man
3 days ago

dublin

Hot

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By *uriouspantyMan
3 days ago

Swindon

Absolutely perfectly written long enough to tease hen BANG…proper cock in arse story .loved .it

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
3 days ago

Launceston

The morning light sliced through the curtains, dragging me out of a heavy, vodka-soaked sleep. My arse was still tender, a dull ache from the double-ended dildo, Dick’s cock, and that buzzing plug, every twinge a reminder of the fucked-up night at Crissy and Dick’s. Jan’s hand was already wrapped around my cock, her grip lazy but deliberate, stirring me awake as my body responded despite the exhaustion. She was propped on one elbow, her hair a mess, eyes gleaming with that filthy, triumphant look she’d had all night.

“Morning, you dirty fucking sissy,” she purred, her voice thick with amusement as she squeezed my cock, making me flinch. “Fuck, last night was something else. You in that pink bodystocking, taking Dick’s cock, licking Crissy’s cum off my face—fucking hell, I loved every second.” She laughed, replaying the night like it was her favorite porn, her words painting every humiliating, arousing detail. “The way you just took it, sissy, letting Richard suck you off, then eating his spunk off the rug? You’re made for this shit.”

Her hand started moving, slow strokes that had my cock hardening even as my mind reeled. “Maybe we should get you your own sissy dress, like Dick’s,” she said, her grin widening. “All pretty and sissyfied, frilly lace, maybe a little apron so you can serve me proper.” She laughed out loud, the sound sharp and teasing, her other hand slipping between her legs, fingers working her pussy as she kept talking. “What do you think, sissy? You’d look so fucking cute, my own little maid.”

I groaned, my cock throbbing under her touch, my arse still sore but my body betraying how much her words were getting to me. I was hooked, no fucking question—last night had cracked something open, and Jan knew it. “What do you think, sissy?” she pressed, her fingers circling her clit, her eyes locked on mine.

I didn’t have a choice, not really. The lace, the toys, her filthy commands, Dick’s mouth, Crissy’s strap-on—it was all too much, too good, too fucking addictive. “Yeah,” I muttered, voice hoarse, “I’m in.”

She stopped stroking, her hand tightening just enough to make me gasp. “And from now on, you call me Princess,” she said, her tone dead serious, cutting through the playful haze.

“What the fuck—” I started, but she cut me off, her eyes flashing.

“You will call me Princess,” she repeated, her voice like steel wrapped in silk, her hand resuming its slow, torturous strokes.

“Yes, Princess,” I said, the words feeling strange but right, sealing me deeper into this fucked-up dynamic.

She grinned, triumphant. “Then it’s a deal. You’re my sissy, and don’t you fucking forget it.”

“No, Princess,” I replied, my cock aching under her grip, my mind spinning with what I’d just agreed to.

She laughed, rolling on top of me, her hand still working my cock as she straddled my thighs, her pussy wet and pressing against me. “Good boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss me, her tongue aggressive, claiming. “Tonight, we’re back at it. Crissy and Dick are coming over, and I’m picking out something special for you—maybe that dress, maybe something sluttier.” Her fingers sped up, her other hand still on her clit, her breaths coming faster. “And you’re gonna be my perfect sissy, aren’t you? Taking whatever I give you, calling me Princess, serving me like Dick serves Crissy.”

“Yes, Princess,” I gasped, my cock leaking precum, the thought of another night like last one—lace, cocks, toys, humiliation—pushing me to the edge. She smirked, sensing it, and slid down, taking my cock into her mouth, sucking hard, her tongue swirling as she fingered herself. I came fast, groaning, my load hitting her throat as she swallowed, pulling back with a grin.

“Get cleaned up, sissy,” she said, climbing off me, her fingers still slick with her own cum. “We’ve got a big night ahead, and I’m not done with you yet.” She sauntered to the shower, leaving me there, spent and already dreading—or craving—what she had planned. I was her sissy now, no going back, and with Crissy and Dick coming over, I knew tonight would make last night look like fucking foreplay. “Yes, Princess,” I muttered to the empty room, my cock twitching at the thought of what was coming.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
3 days ago

Launceston

I lay there, still catching my breath, the ache in my arse a constant reminder of last night’s insanity, Jan’s cum-slick kiss lingering on my lips. Her words—Princess, sissy, pretty little maid—echoed in my head, each one tightening the hook she’d sunk into me. The morning dragged us back to reality, though, the usual grind waiting. I showered after her, the hot water doing fuck-all to wash away the buzz of what we’d done or what she’d promised for tonight. Jan was already dressed, pulling her hair back for work, but she shot me a smirk as I toweled off. “Don’t forget, sissy,” she said, her voice all playful menace. “You’re mine tonight. Be ready to call me Princess in front of Crissy and Dick.”

“Yes, Princess,” I mumbled, my cock giving a weak twitch despite the exhaustion. She laughed, grabbing her keys and heading out, leaving me to pull on my work clothes—overalls that felt like a fucking lie compared to the pink lace I’d been wearing. The JCB was calling, another day of shifting dirt and dodging the boss’s bullshit, but my head was already at tonight. Crissy’s smug grin, Dick’s sissy maid dress, Jan’s strap-on, and now this new promise of a dress just for me. Fuck, I was in deep.

Work was a blur, my hands on the controls but my mind replaying every filthy detail—Dick’s cock in my arse, Crissy’s cunt on my face, Jan’s voice calling me her “dirty fucking sissy.” By the time I clocked off, my cock was half-hard just thinking about what Jan had planned. I swung by Aldi on the way home, grabbing more vodka and some cheap snacks for the night, figuring we’d need fuel for whatever Crissy and Dick were bringing to the table.

Jan was home when I got in, already buzzing around the kitchen, setting out glasses and a bottle of wine. She’d changed into a tight black dress, no work polo in sight, her curves screaming trouble. “Good timing, sissy,” she said, spotting me. “Crissy and Dick’ll be here soon. Go get ready.” She pointed to the bedroom, where she’d laid out my “outfit”—not just the pink crotchless bodystocking, but a new addition: a sissy dress, bright red, with a lacy apron and a pair of matching panties, all frills and slutty charm. My stomach flipped, arousal and nerves crashing together.

“Fucking hell, Princess,” I said, holding up the dress, the fabric soft but screaming humiliation. “You weren’t kidding.”

She sauntered over, her fingers brushing the lace. “Told you I’d make you pretty, sissy. Put it on. And these.” She tossed me a pair of thigh-high stockings, red to match. “I want you looking perfect when you serve me tonight.”

I stripped, my work clothes hitting the floor, and slid into the outfit. The panties hugged my cock and balls, leaving them half-exposed, the dress swishing as I moved, the apron barely covering anything. The stockings clung tight, amplifying every sensation, my cock already stirring as I adjusted the wig she’d left on the bed—blonde curls, fucking ridiculous but weirdly hot. I looked in the mirror, barely recognizing myself, a proper sissy maid ready for whatever Jan—Princess—had in store.

The doorbell rang, and Jan called, “Answer it, sissy!” I hesitated, my heart pounding, but her earlier warning—or you’ll regret it—pushed me forward. I opened the door, and there were Crissy and Dick, her in a leather skirt and top, him in a new sissy outfit: pink dress, white petticoats, his wig neater this time. Crissy’s eyes lit up, raking over me. “Fuck me, Jan wasn’t lying,” she said, stepping in. “You’re a proper little slut now, aren’t you?”

Dick muttered, “Evening, Miss,” his eyes flicking to my dress, a mix of envy and submission in his gaze. Jan appeared, grinning, and pulled Crissy into a hug, their laughter filling the room. “Look at our sissies,” Jan said, patting my arse. “Ready to serve, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Princess,” I said, the words coming easier now, my cock twitching under the dress. Dick echoed, “Yes, Miss,” to Crissy, and the girls led us to the lounge, where the vodka and wine were waiting. Crissy pulled out her black velvet bag, tossing it on the table with a smirk. “Brought some new toys,” she said. “Let’s see how our sissies handle them.”

Jan poured drinks, handing me a vodka. “Serve us, sissy,” she ordered, settling onto the sofa with Crissy. I obeyed, my dress swishing, the stockings rubbing as I handed out glasses, Dick doing the same, his petticoats bouncing. The girls sipped, their eyes on us, Jan’s voice sharp. “Kneel, sissies.” We dropped, me beside Dick, the rug rough under my knees, my cock hard and leaking into the red panties.

Crissy pulled a new toy from the bag—a thick, vibrating dildo with a remote. “This one’s for you, sissy,” she said, nodding at me. Jan took it, lubing it up as she pushed me onto all fours, the dress riding up to expose my arse. “Ready, sissy?” she asked, her voice pure Princess, and I groaned, “Yes, Princess,” as she slid it in, the buzz hitting my prostate, making my cock drip. Dick watched, his own cock tenting his dress, as Crissy ordered him to wank for us, his “Thank you, Miss” a constant hum.

The night was just starting, but Jan’s promise of “filthier” was already coming true, the red dress and the buzzing toy pushing me deeper into her world. Whatever Crissy and Dick added, I was ready—her sissy, her slut, calling her Princess and loving every fucked-up second.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
3 days ago

Launceston

The lounge was a fucking haze of lust and vodka, the air thick with the girls’ laughter and the low buzz of the vibrating dildo Jan had shoved up my arse. I was on all fours, the red sissy dress bunched around my waist, the lacy apron flapping, my cock hard and leaking into the matching red panties. The blonde wig itched, but the stockings clinging to my thighs and the relentless buzz against my prostate had me too far gone to care. Dick was kneeling beside me, his pink dress and petticoats a frilly mess, wanking furiously under Crissy’s orders, his “Thank you, Miss” mantra barely audible over his panting. Jan and Crissy lounged on the sofa, wine glasses in hand, their eyes glinting like they were directing a porn shoot.

Jan twisted the remote, cranking the dildo’s vibrations, and I groaned, my cock twitching, precum soaking the panties. “Fuck, Princess,” I gasped, the word slipping out naturally now, my body surrendering to her control. She laughed, leaning forward to tug at the wig. “That’s it, sissy,” she purred. “My pretty little slut, taking it so well. Look at Dick, wanking for us. You two are fucking perfect.”

Crissy smirked, sipping her wine, her leather skirt riding up as she crossed her legs. “Richard, stop wanking,” she snapped, and Dick’s hand froze, his cock throbbing in his pink sissy panties, his face a mix of frustration and obedience. “Yes, Miss,” he muttered, trembling. She stood, grabbing another toy from the black velvet bag—a strap-on, bigger than the one she’d used last night, with a thick, curved shaft that made my stomach flip. “Your turn, Jan,” Crissy said, tossing it to her. “Let’s see how your sissy handles this one.”

Jan caught it, her grin pure fucking evil as she buckled it on, the silicone cock jutting out from her black dress. “Get ready, sissy,” she said, lubing it up with slow, deliberate strokes, her eyes locked on mine. She pulled the vibrating dildo out, leaving my arse slack and aching, and positioned herself behind me. “Tell me you want it, sissy,” she ordered, her voice sharp, the Princess in full control.

“Please, Princess, fuck me,” I begged, the words spilling out, humiliation and arousal twisting together as my cock dripped onto the rug. She didn’t tease—she rammed the strap-on in, deep and hard, the stretch intense, hitting my prostate with every thrust. I moaned, my body rocking with her rhythm, the red dress swishing, the stockings sparking against my skin. Crissy watched, her hand sliding between her legs, rubbing herself through her leather skirt. “Fuck, that’s hot,” she said, her voice thick. “Richard, lick her arse while she gets fucked.”

Dick crawled over, muttering “Yes, Miss,” and Jan paused just long enough for him to kneel behind her, his tongue probing her arse as she resumed pounding me. The room was a symphony of moans—mine, Dick’s muffled grunts, Jan’s filthy praise. “Good sissy,” she said, gripping my hips. “Taking my cock like a proper slut. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Princess,” I groaned, my cock so hard it hurt, precum pooling on the rug. Crissy stood, stripping off her skirt and panties, her cunt already wet as she grabbed the rabbit vibrator from the bag. “Your turn, sissy,” she said, pointing at me. Jan pulled out, the strap-on glistening, and pushed me onto my back. Crissy straddled my face, her juices dripping as she lowered herself, the rabbit buzzing as Jan slid it into her, fucking her with slow, deep thrusts. I licked frantically, her clit swollen under my tongue, her moans loud and desperate as she ground against me.

“Fuck, sissy, eat me,” Crissy gasped, her orgasm building fast. Jan worked the rabbit harder, her other hand stroking my cock through the red panties, making me buck. Crissy came, screaming, her cum flooding my face, and Jan leaned down, licking it off me with a grin. “Good boy,” she whispered, tossing the rabbit aside.

Crissy slumped back, panting, but Jan wasn’t done. “On all fours, Dick,” she barked, and he obeyed, his pink dress hiked up, arse exposed. Jan lubed the strap-on again, sliding into him with a grunt, his “Thank you, Miss” turning into moans as she fucked him hard. Crissy grabbed me, pulling me to my knees. “Wank for me, sissy,” she ordered, and I stroked my cock, the red lace rubbing, the sight of Jan pounding Dick pushing me closer to the edge.

“Cum together, sissies,” Crissy said, her voice sharp. Dick was already begging, “Please, Miss, can I cum?” and Crissy nodded. I was right there, my hand a blur, and we both came—me splattering the rug, Dick’s load hitting his petticoats, our groans mixing as the girls laughed. Jan pulled out, unbuckling the strap-on, and Crissy ordered Dick to clean the rug with his tongue again. I joined him, the taste of our cum sharp and humiliating, Jan’s hand on my neck guiding me.

We collapsed, a sweaty, fucked-out mess, the red dress sticking to me, Dick’s pink outfit ruined. Jan pulled me to her, kissing me deep. “My perfect sissy,” she said, her voice soft but still Princess. Crissy grinned, stroking Dick’s wig. “Next time, we’re bringing more friends,” she said. “Our sissies need a bigger audience.” Jan nodded, her fingers tracing the lace on my thigh. “Tomorrow, sissy,” she whispered. “You’re wearing something sluttier, and you’re calling me Princess all night.” My cock twitched, already dreading and craving the next dive into this filthy, fucked-up world we’d made our own.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 days ago

Launceston

The morning after was a blur of sore muscles and a head still swimming with the previous night’s debauchery. I woke up tangled in the sheets, the red sissy dress and blonde wig discarded on the floor, but the ghost of the pink crotchless bodystocking and Jan’s strap-on still burned in my mind. My arse was tender, a dull throb from the pounding Jan had given me, Dick’s rimming, and that fucking vibrating dildo that had me leaking like a faucet. Jan was already awake, propped up on her elbow, her hand lazily tracing circles on my chest, her smirk telling me she was still riding the high of last night.

“Morning, my dirty fucking sissy,” she said, her voice low and teasing, the word Princess practically dripping from her tone even though she hadn’t said it yet. “Last night was fucking wild, wasn’t it? You in that red dress, serving me, taking my cock while Dick licked my arse—fuck, I’m wet just thinking about it.” Her fingers slid lower, brushing my cock, which twitched despite the exhaustion. “And Crissy’s idea about a bigger audience? I’m fucking into it.”

I groaned, my face heating up, the memory of Dick’s tongue, Crissy’s cunt on my face, and Jan’s relentless thrusts making my cock stir even though my body was screaming for a break. “You’re fucking insatiable, Princess,” I said, the title slipping out easy now, like it was part of me. “Bigger audience? What, you want the whole fucking neighborhood watching me in lace?”

She laughed, sharp and wicked, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking slow. “Maybe. Imagine you, all sissyfied, frilly dress, on your knees for me in front of a room full of people. Calling me Princess, begging for cock.” Her other hand slipped between her legs, her fingers working her pussy as she talked, her eyes blazing. “What do you say, sissy? You ready to be my little slut for more than just Crissy and Dick?”

I was fucking hooked, no denying it. The humiliation, the lace, the way she owned me—it was too much, too good. “Yes, Princess,” I said, my voice hoarse, my cock hardening under her grip. “Whatever you want.”

“Good boy,” she purred, leaning in to kiss me, her tongue aggressive, tasting of last night’s wine and cum. “Tonight, we’re hosting again. Crissy’s bringing a couple of her mates—kinky fuckers, she says. And you’re wearing something new. I ordered it today—black lace, crotchless, with a corset to make you look like a proper whore.” She sped up her strokes, her fingers slick with her own juices. “You’ll serve us, call me Princess, and take whatever we give you. Deal?”

“Yes, Princess,” I gasped, my cock leaking precum, her words painting a picture I couldn’t resist. She grinned, sliding down to suck me off, her mouth hot and relentless, but stopped just short of letting me cum. “Save it for tonight, sissy,” she said, climbing off the bed. “Get cleaned up. We’ve got prep to do.”

The day was torture, work a mindless slog as my mind kept drifting to Jan’s plans. The JCB’s rumble couldn’t drown out the thought of black lace, a corset, Crissy’s mates, and Jan’s voice calling me her sissy. I got home to find Jan setting up—more vodka, wine, snacks, and that fucking black velvet bag Crissy had left behind, now sitting ominously on the coffee table. “Go get ready, sissy,” Jan ordered, pointing to the bedroom.

The new outfit was there—black lace bodystocking, completely crotchless, leaving my cock and balls dangling, paired with a tight corset that cinched my waist, making me feel exposed and slutty as fuck. I laced it up, my hands shaking, and added the black stockings and a new wig—long, dark curls that screamed sex. I barely recognized myself in the mirror, but my cock was already hard, the anticipation killing me.

Crissy and Dick arrived first, her in a red latex dress, him in a new sissy outfit—baby blue, with ruffles and a collar, his cock already tenting the lace. Two others followed: a couple, Tara and Lee, both in leather, Tara’s eyes like a predator’s, Lee’s smirk quieter but no less dangerous. “Fuck, Jan, your sissy’s a treat,” Tara said, circling me, her fingers brushing the corset. “Crissy said he’s good with his mouth.”

Jan grinned, pulling me close. “Oh, he’s perfect. Show them, sissy. Serve us, and don’t forget who I am.”

“Yes, Princess,” I said, my voice steady despite the room heat, and handed out drinks, the corset tight, my cock swinging free as I moved. Dick did the same, muttering “Yes, Miss” to Crissy, our sissy dresses a matching display of submission. The night kicked off fast—Tara grabbed the bag, pulling out a new toy: a thick, suction-cup dildo. “Let’s see our sissies ride,” she said, sticking it to the coffee table.

Jan pushed me forward, lubing it up. “Ride it, sissy,” she ordered, and I straddled it, the stretch intense as I sank down, the dildo filling my arse, my cock bouncing as I moved. Dick was next, his blue dress hiked up, moaning as he took his own. The girls and Lee watched, Jan calling me her “good fucking sissy,” Crissy taunting Dick, Tara filming it on her phone with a grin. I was humiliated, aroused, and completely fucking theirs, the corset and dildo pushing me deeper into Jan’s world. Whatever came next—cocks, tongues, more toys—I was ready, calling her Princess and craving every filthy second.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 days ago

Launceston

The lounge was a fucking furnace, the air thick with vodka fumes, sweat, and the raw, electric charge of pure debauchery. I was on the coffee table, black lace bodystocking leaving my cock and balls swinging free, the corset cinched so tight it made every breath a reminder of my role as Jan’s sissy. The thick suction-cup dildo was buried deep in my arse, each slow grind sending jolts through my prostate, my cock leaking precum onto the table as I rode it under Jan’s command. Dick was beside me, his baby blue sissy dress hiked up, his own dildo stretching him as he moaned, his pink-pantied cock twitching with every move. Jan, Crissy, and their mates Tara and Lee watched, sprawled on the sofa, wine and vodka glasses in hand, their eyes hungry like we were the main event in a private porn show.

Jan leaned forward, her black dress clinging to her curves, her voice sharp and dripping with Princess authority. “Fuck, sissy, look at you riding that cock,” she said, her fingers brushing my exposed balls, making me shudder. “My perfect little slut, showing off for our guests. Tell them how much you love it.”

“Yes, Princess,” I gasped, my voice hoarse, the dildo’s relentless pressure making my cock throb. “I fucking love it, Princess. Love being your sissy.” The words were humiliating, but they spilled out, my body too far gone to care, precum dripping in thick beads as I rocked harder.

Crissy cackled, her red latex dress squeaking as she shifted, her hand on Dick’s wig. “Richard, you’re falling behind,” she taunted. “Ride it like Jan’s sissy, you pathetic little maid.” Dick whimpered, “Yes, Miss,” his thrusts speeding up, his moans high-pitched, his cock leaking through his panties. Tara, in her leather corset, was filming us on her phone, her grin wicked. “This is fucking gold,” she said. “Lee, you gotta try these sissies later.”

Lee, quieter but no less intense, nodded, his leather trousers tight around his obvious hard-on. “Oh, I will,” he said, his voice low, eyes locked on me. Jan caught it, smirking. “You want a taste, Lee? My sissy’s mouth is fucking magic.”

I groaned, the dildo hitting deeper, my cock pulsing at the thought. Jan stood, grabbing a new toy from Crissy’s black velvet bag—a thick, curved prostate massager, buzzing as she switched it on. “Let’s up the stakes, sissy,” she said, pulling me off the dildo with a wet pop, my arse slack and aching. She lubed the massager, her fingers teasing my hole before sliding it in, slow and deliberate, the buzz hitting my prostate like a fucking lightning bolt. I moaned, my cock spurting precum onto the table, the corset squeezing me as I trembled.

“On your knees, sissy,” Jan ordered, and I dropped, the bodystocking rubbing my skin raw. She pushed my face toward Tara, who’d stripped her leather skirt, her cunt wet and waiting. “Eat her, sissy,” Jan commanded, and I dove in, my tongue lapping at Tara’s clit, her moans loud as she gripped my wig. The massager buzzed relentlessly, my cock dripping, Jan’s hand stroking me through the lace, her voice in my ear. “Good sissy, make her cum for Princess.”

Tara bucked, cursing, “Fuck, sissy, yes!” as she came, her juices flooding my face. Jan pulled me back, licking Tara’s cum off my lips, her kiss deep and possessive. “My turn,” she said, dropping her dress and panties, straddling my face. Her cunt was soaking, dripping as I licked, her moans mixing with the buzz of the massager, her hands tangling in my wig. “Fuck, sissy, you’re mine,” she gasped, cumming hard, her thighs clamping around my head.

Crissy wasn’t idle. She had Dick bent over, a strap-on buried in his arse, his “Thank you, Miss” chants punctuated by groans as she fucked him. Lee joined in, unzipping his trousers, his cock thick and hard as he fed it to Dick’s mouth. “Suck it, sissy,” Lee growled, and Dick obeyed, gagging as Lee thrust deep, Crissy’s strap-on pounding in sync.

Jan pulled me to my feet, the massager still buzzing, and pushed me toward Lee. “Your turn, sissy,” she said, her voice pure Princess. “Show him what that mouth can do.” I hesitated, my heart pounding, but Jan’s hand on my neck was firm. “Yes, Princess,” I said, dropping to my knees, Lee’s cock inches from my face. I took it, my lips stretching around him, the taste musky and unfamiliar, my gag reflex kicking as he pushed deeper. Jan stroked my cock, whispering, “Good sissy, take it for Princess,” the massager driving me wild as I sucked, Lee’s groans filling the room.

Crissy pulled out of Dick, ordering him to wank, his load hitting the rug as he thanked her. Lee tensed, grunting, and came in my mouth, hot and thick, the taste overwhelming as I swallowed, Jan’s hand milking my cock until I came too, my spunk splattering the floor, the corset and massager pushing me over the edge. We were a fucking wreck—me in black lace, Dick in his blue dress, cum and sweat everywhere.

The girls slowed things down, their laughter softening as they poured more drinks, the edge of the night easing. Jan pulled me to the sofa, her arm around me, the Princess vibe still there but gentler. “You were fucking incredible, sissy,” she whispered, kissing my cheek, the massager now off but still inside me. Crissy nodded, patting Dick’s wig. “Our sissies are the best,” she said, her grin less sharp now. “We’re doing this again, yeah?”

Tara and Lee agreed, already planning the next meet, their eyes flicking to me and Dick with promises of more. Jan’s hand rested on my thigh, the black lace still clinging to me, her voice low. “Tomorrow, sissy, we’re trying that audience idea. Just you, me, and whoever Crissy invites.” She winked, leaving the door wide open for more filthy games, my cock twitching at the thought of what Princess had in store.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
2 days ago

Launceston

The morning light crept through the blinds, soft and hazy, but it did fuck-all to dull the ache in my arse or the buzz still humming in my head from last night’s madness. I woke up sprawled across the bed, the black lace bodystocking tangled around my legs, the corset loosened but still clinging to my ribs like a second skin. Jan was beside me, her arm draped over my chest, her breath warm against my neck, a faint smirk on her lips even in sleep. My cock twitched at the memory of her voice—Princess—and the way she’d owned me, pushing me deeper into this wild, filthy world we’d stumbled into. The red sissy dress, Dick’s cock in my arse, Crissy’s cunt on my face, Lee’s load in my mouth—it was all a blur of lace, cum, and vodka-soaked chaos that left me humiliated, aroused, and fucking hooked.

I shifted, wincing at the tenderness, my mind replaying the best bits like a highlight reel. That first night in the pink crotchless bodystocking, bent over the kitchen counter, Jan ramming her strap-on into me, calling me her “dirty sissy” as I spunked hands-free. Then Crissy’s place, Dick in his maid dress sucking me off, Jan and Crissy laughing as his spunk hit my face, making him drink it mixed with vodka. Last night, though—fuck, that was next level. Riding that suction-cup dildo on the coffee table, the corset squeezing me, Jan’s prostate massager buzzing me to the edge while I ate Tara’s cunt, then Jan’s, then sucking Lee’s cock as she stroked me off. And Dick, poor sissy Dick, taking Crissy’s strap-on while gagging on Lee, both of us licking the rug clean after. It was depraved, raw, and so fucking hot I could still taste the cum and feel the lace on my skin.

Jan stirred, her hand sliding down to my cock, already half-hard from the memories. “Morning, sissy,” she murmured, her voice sleepy but laced with that Princess edge. “Dreaming about last night? You were such a good little slut, taking all that cock and cum for me.” She squeezed, making me gasp, her lips brushing my ear. “Crissy’s mates loved you. Tara’s already texting about next time.”

I groaned, my face heating up, but my cock betrayed me, hardening under her touch. “Fuck, Princess,” I said, the title second nature now. “You’re gonna kill me with this shit. Next time? I’m still sore from last night.”

She laughed, low and wicked, rolling on top of me, her thighs straddling mine. “Oh, sissy, you love it. Don’t pretend you’re not thinking about more cock, more lace, more people watching you serve your Princess.” Her hand kept stroking, slow and teasing, her other fingers circling her clit, her breath hitching. “Tonight, we’re taking it slow—just you and me, sissy. A little prep for the big one tomorrow.”

My pulse jumped. “Big one?” I asked, my voice rough, already dreading and craving her answer.

She smirked, leaning down to kiss me, her tongue slow and possessive. “Crissy’s planning a party. Her kinky mates, some new faces, all watching you and Dick be our perfect sissies. But tonight, I want you all to myself.” She slid off, standing, her naked body a fucking vision. “Get cleaned up, sissy. I’ve got something special planned.”

The day crawled by, work a mindless slog, the JCB’s rumble no match for the anticipation burning through me. Jan’s promise of “something special” kept me half-hard, my mind drifting to lace, toys, and her filthy commands. I got home to find her in the lounge, a single candle lit, the black velvet bag on the table, but the vibe was softer, more intimate. She was in a silk robe, her hair loose, no Crissy or Dick to amp things up. “Strip, sissy,” she said, her voice firm but warm, the Princess in control but gentler tonight.

I obeyed, shedding my clothes, and she handed me a new outfit—sheer purple lingerie, panties so tiny they barely covered my cock, with matching stockings but no corset, just soft, slutty lace. “Put it on, sissy,” she said, watching as I slid into it, the fabric teasing my skin, my cock hardening instantly. “Yes, Princess,” I said, kneeling as she pointed to the floor.

She sat on the sofa, legs spread, the robe falling open to reveal her cunt, already wet. “Crawl to me, sissy,” she ordered, and I did, the stockings rubbing, my cock straining against the purple lace. She guided my head between her thighs, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Lick your Princess,” she said, and I dove in, my tongue slow and deliberate, savoring her taste, her moans soft but building. “Good sissy,” she whispered, her hips grinding against my face, her orgasm quiet but intense, her cum coating my lips.

She pulled me up, kissing me deep, tasting herself. “Tonight’s just us,” she said, pulling a small vibrating plug from the bag, lubing it up. “Bend over, sissy.” I did, the plug sliding in easy, the buzz gentle, teasing my prostate as she stroked my cock through the panties, her touch slow, almost loving. “You’re mine, sissy,” she said, her voice soft now. “Tomorrow, you’ll be everyone’s, but tonight, you’re my good boy.” I came, a soft spurt into the lace, her hand milking me dry, the plug’s hum lulling me into a haze.

We curled up on the sofa, her robe around us, the candle flickering. “Tomorrow’s gonna be big, sissy,” she said, her fingers tracing the stockings. “Crissy’s mates, new toys, maybe even a real cock or two. You ready to call me Princess in front of them all?” I nodded, my cock twitching at the thought, the night’s softness leaving me recharged but hungry for more. “Yes, Princess,” I whispered, the door wide open for the next chapter of our filthy, fucked-up adventure.

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By *sh1966Man
1 day ago

Exeter

Best story ever

Had to cage myself and put a tight thong on

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
20 hours ago

Launceston

There is more to come......

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By *ottom 54Man
14 hours ago

Causeway

Great storyline. Wanted to say so for ages but didn't want to break the story.

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By *usan 749ukTV/TS
13 hours ago

Bangor

Excellent

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By *h22cdTV/TS
12 hours ago

Ferndown

Very well written. Brilliant! x

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By *ust wonderingTV/TS
12 hours ago

Doncaster

Absolutely incredible

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 hours ago

Launceston

The morning after Jan’s intimate night with me, the air in our house still carried a faint hum of anticipation, like the calm before a fucking storm. My arse was less sore now, but the sheer purple lingerie from last night was still draped over the bedroom chair, a reminder of Jan’s softer Princess vibe and her promise of something “big” tonight. I was sipping coffee in the kitchen, trying to focus on the day ahead, when Jan came in, phone in hand, her smirk telling me she’d been scheming with Crissy. “Sissy,” she said, her voice all Princess, “Crissy’s party plans are fucking wild. You’re gonna love it—or hate it, but either way, you’re my good little slut, so you’ll take it.”

I groaned, my cock already twitching at her tone, the memory of Crissy’s smug grin and Dick’s sissy maid antics flashing through my mind. “What’s she got cooked up, Princess?” I asked, leaning against the counter, bracing for whatever filthy chaos was coming.

Jan sat across from me, her eyes glinting as she scrolled through her texts with Crissy. “It’s not just a party, sissy. It’s a full-on kinky fucking event. Crissy’s renting out this private club her mate owns—basement vibe, soundproof, no neighbors to complain. She’s invited her inner circle, plus some new faces from their scene. Think Tara and Lee, but double the numbers, maybe ten or twelve people, all into the same shit we are.” She paused, her smirk widening. “And you and Dick? You’re the fucking entertainment.”

My stomach flipped, arousal and nerves crashing together. “Entertainment?” I said, my voice cracking. “What, like me in that black lace corset, serving drinks while they all laugh?”

“Oh, sissy, it’s way more than that,” Jan said, leaning forward, her fingers tapping the table. “Crissy’s got a whole setup planned. You and Dick in matching sissy outfits—she’s thinking slutty schoolgirl for you, short plaid skirts, thigh-highs, pigtail wigs, the works. Dick’ll probably be in something frillier, maybe a cheerleader getup. You’ll start by serving drinks, sure, but then it’s a full show. She’s got toys lined up—strap-ons, dildos, plugs, you name it. And she’s talking about a ‘sissy stage’ where you two perform for the crowd.”

I swallowed hard, my cock stirring despite the insanity. “Perform what, Princess?”

She laughed, low and wicked. “Crissy wants a sissy competition. You and Dick, side by side, taking toys, maybe even real cocks if Lee or someone else steps up. The crowd votes on who’s the better sissy—based on how well you moan, beg, or handle whatever they throw at you. She’s got a fucking scoreboard and everything, like it’s a game show. Winner gets a ‘reward’—probably something humiliating, like sucking off the whole room while the loser watches.”

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, my face burning, but my cock was rock hard now, the purple lingerie’s ghost still teasing me. “And you’re just… okay with this? Me getting fucked by strangers for Crissy’s amusement?”

Jan stood, sauntering over, her hand sliding down to cup my cock through my jeans. “Oh, sissy, I’m more than okay. I’m fucking into it. Watching you in that schoolgirl skirt, calling me Princess while you take a cock? That’s my wet dream.” She squeezed, making me gasp. “Crissy’s mates are vetted, clean, and discreet—she’s not stupid. And I’ll be there, running your show, making sure you’re my perfect little whore.”

I groaned, her hand working me slow, her words sinking in. “What else is she planning, Princess?” I asked, my voice thick, already half-lost in the fantasy.

“She’s got a few surprises,” Jan said, her fingers unzipping me now, teasing. “She’s got a ‘punishment corner’ for sissies who don’t please—think spankings, paddles, maybe a blindfolded flogging if you sass me. And a ‘play zone’ with bondage gear—cuffs, ropes, a fucking swing for whoever wants to strap you in. She’s even talking about a ‘sissy finale’ where you and Dick get tied together, back-to-back, and the crowd decides who gets fucked first.” She paused, her smirk softening just a touch. “But don’t worry, sissy. I’ll be there, calling the shots, making sure you’re safe while you’re my slut.”

My head spun, the scale of it overwhelming—Crissy’s party wasn’t just a night; it was a fucking spectacle, designed to push every boundary we’d already smashed. “When’s this happening, Princess?” I asked, my cock leaking into my boxers, her hand still teasing.

“Tonight,” she said, her voice firm. “Crissy’s sorting the venue, the outfits, the toys. We’re meeting her at 6 to get you and Dick ready. She’s already got the schoolgirl outfit tailored for you—tight, slutty, and barely covering your cock.” She leaned in, kissing me hard, her tongue claiming. “You’ll call me Princess all night, sissy, and you’ll make me proud.”

The day dragged, work a mindless haze as I pictured Crissy’s basement club, the crowd, the toys, the skirts. I got home to find Jan packing a bag—lube, the black velvet toy bag, and a new collar she’d bought for me, black leather with “Princess’s Sissy” etched in silver. “Wear it tonight,” she said, tossing it to me. “And get ready, sissy. We’re leaving soon.”

We met Crissy and Dick at the club, a nondescript building with a heavy door and a discreet sign. Inside, the basement was all dim lights, black walls, and a stage rigged with cuffs and a swing. Crissy, in a latex catsuit, greeted us with a grin, Dick already in his cheerleader outfit, pom-poms and all, his cock tenting the skirt. “Your sissy’s gonna shine,” Crissy told Jan, handing me the schoolgirl outfit—plaid skirt so short it barely covered my arse, white blouse tied to show my midriff, pigtail wig, and red thigh-highs. I changed in a back room, the collar tight around my neck, my cock hard as I adjusted the panties, crotchless like always.

The crowd trickled in—Tara and Lee, plus eight others, men and women, all leather and smirks, their eyes raking over me and Dick as we served drinks, our skirts swishing. Jan, in a black corset dress, pulled me close, whispering, “Be my good sissy, Princess is watching.” The night was young, the stage waiting, and Crissy’s party was about to explode into the filthiest night yet. But as the energy built, Jan’s hand on my arse grounded me, her voice soft. “You’re mine, sissy. Let’s give them a show, but tomorrow, it’s just us again.” The promise of more—wild, filthy, and intimate—hung in the air, ready for whatever came next.

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By *ocalsucker OP Man
4 hours ago

Launceston

The basement club was a dimly lit dungeon of anticipation, the air thick with the scent of leather, lube, and vodka as Crissy’s party kicked into high gear. The stage was set—a raised platform in the center, rigged with cuffs hanging from chains, a padded bench, and a spotlight that made my skin prickle under the slutty schoolgirl outfit Jan had forced me into. The plaid skirt barely covered my arse, the crotchless red panties left my cock and balls dangling, and the thigh-high stockings rubbed with every step, the pigtail wig bouncing as I moved. The black leather collar around my neck, etched with “Princess’s Sissy,” felt like a brand, and Jan’s smirk from the crowd told me I was exactly where she wanted me. Dick was beside me, his cheerleader outfit—pink skirt, ruffled petticoats, and pom-poms—making him look just as ridiculous, his cock already twitching under his matching panties. Crissy’s “sissy competition” was the main event, and the crowd of twelve—kinky fuckers like Tara, Lee, and their mates—watched with hungry eyes, drinks in hand, ready to see us humiliate ourselves for their amusement.

Crissy, in her latex catsuit, strutted onto the stage, a wireless mic in hand, her grin sharp as a whip. “Alright, you filthy lot,” she said, her voice booming through the club. “Welcome to the Sissy Showdown! Our two sluts—Jan’s sissy and my Richard—are gonna compete to prove who’s the best fucking sissy. You’re the judges, and you’ll score them on how well they take it, beg for it, and make you hard or wet. Winner gets a special treat; loser gets… well, you’ll see.” The crowd cheered, a mix of laughter and crude shouts, Tara already filming on her phone, Lee’s leather trousers tight around his obvious hard-on.

Jan stood beside Crissy, her black corset dress hugging her curves, her Princess vibe in full force. She grabbed my pigtails, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “My sissy’s gonna make me proud, aren’t you?” she said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Yes, Princess,” I muttered, my cock twitching despite the nerves, the collar tight as I swallowed. Dick, beside me, mumbled, “Yes, Miss,” to Crissy, his pom-poms shaking as he shifted, his face flushed under his makeup.

Crissy laid out the rules, her voice dripping with mischief. “Three rounds, each testing our sissies’ skills. Round one: toy endurance. Round two: oral service. Round three: the fuck-off, where they take whatever we give them. You lot score each round out of ten, based on moans, obedience, and how much you want to fuck them. Highest total wins. Ready, sissies?”

“Yes, Princess,” I said, my voice shaky, the crowd’s eyes burning into me. Dick echoed, “Yes, Miss,” and Crissy clapped, signaling the start.

Round One: Toy Endurance

Jan and Crissy grabbed toys from the black velvet bag, now infamous for its endless supply of depravity. Jan held up a thick, vibrating butt plug, its buzz loud as she lubed it, smirking at me. Crissy chose a curved prostate massager for Dick, its sleek design promising trouble. “On all fours, sissies,” Crissy ordered, and we dropped, my skirt riding up, my cock swinging free as the crowd hooted. Jan knelt behind me, teasing my hole with the plug’s tip, the cold lube making me flinch. “Beg for it, sissy,” she said, her voice pure Princess.

“Please, Princess, fuck my arse,” I begged, loud and desperate, my cock leaking precum onto the stage. She pushed it in, slow and deliberate, the stretch intense, the vibrations hitting my prostate like a fucking hammer. I moaned, loud and raw, my body rocking as the crowd cheered, Tara shouting, “That’s it, sissy, take it!” Dick, beside me, was whimpering, Crissy working the massager deep, his “Thank you, Miss” chants mixing with his gasps, his pom-poms twitching as he squirmed.

The challenge was to last five minutes without cumming, the toys buzzing relentlessly. Jan leaned close, whispering, “Don’t you dare cum, sissy, or you’ll disappoint your Princess.” Her hand brushed my cock, teasing, making it fucking impossible to focus. I groaned, my moans echoing, the crowd scoring us with raised cards—eights and nines for me, sevens for Dick, who was struggling, his cock dripping more than mine. I held on, barely, the plug’s buzz driving me to the edge, my body trembling as the timer buzzed. Jan pulled it out, kissing my neck. “Good sissy,” she said, while Crissy patted Dick’s wig, his score lower but his effort noted by the crowd’s claps.

Round Two: Oral Service

Crissy announced the next round, her grin wicked. “Time to test their mouths. Sissies, you’re servicing the crowd. Make them cum, and make it quick.” Jan pushed me toward Lee, who’d unzipped his leather trousers, his thick cock already hard. “Suck him, sissy,” she ordered, and I dropped to my knees, the pigtails bouncing, the collar tight as I took him in, my lips stretching around his shaft. The taste was musky, his groans loud as I sucked, my tongue swirling, Jan’s hand on my neck guiding me deeper. “Good sissy, make him cum for Princess,” she said, her voice sharp.

Dick was working Tara, her leather skirt hiked up, his face buried in her cunt, her moans high-pitched as she gripped his wig. The crowd scored us on technique—my deep-throating earned nines, Dick’s eager licking got eights. Lee tensed, grunting, and came in my mouth, hot and thick, the taste overwhelming as I swallowed, Jan stroking my cock through the panties, whispering, “That’s my sissy.” Tara came on Dick’s face, her juices glistening, and the crowd roared, cards flashing high scores for both of us, my lead holding.

Round Three: The Fuck-Off

Crissy’s voice boomed for the final round. “The fuck-off! Our sissies take whatever we give them, and you decide who’s the ultimate slut.” Jan and Crissy strapped on dildos—Jan’s a thick, black one, Crissy’s longer and curved. Lee and another guy, Mark, stepped up, their cocks out, ready to join. “Sissies, bend over the bench,” Crissy ordered, and we obeyed, my skirt flipped up, Dick’s petticoats bunched, our arses exposed to the crowd’s cheers.

Jan lubed her strap-on, slamming it into me, the stretch raw and deep, my moans loud as she fucked me, her voice taunting, “Take it, sissy, show them you’re Princess’s slut.” Lee took Dick, his real cock thrusting hard, Dick’s “Thank you, Miss” turning to gasps. The crowd scored our reactions—my desperate moans and begging earned tens, Dick’s quieter whimpers got eights. Jan pulled out, letting Mark take over, his cock real and thick, filling me as I groaned, my cock leaking, the collar digging in as I called, “Yes, Princess!” Dick got Crissy’s strap-on next, his moans louder now, but my lead held.

The round ended with us both leaking, no cumming allowed. The crowd’s final scores flashed—me at 27, Dick at 23. Crissy declared me the winner, the crowd cheering as Jan pulled me up, kissing me hard. “My perfect sissy,” she said, her voice proud. My “reward” was to suck Lee again, his second load hitting my throat as the crowd clapped. Dick, the loser, was spanked by Crissy in the punishment corner, his arse red as he thanked her.

The night wound down, the crowd’s energy softening, drinks refilled as Jan held me close, the schoolgirl skirt still on, my cock limp but content. “You made Princess proud, sissy,” she whispered, her tone gentle now, the collar a soft weight. Crissy joined us, Dick trailing, his cheerleader outfit a mess. “Next party, we’re adding more sissies,” she said, her grin promising trouble. “You up for it, Jan’s sissy?”

“Yes, Princess,” I said, my eyes on Jan, her nod telling me we were far from done. The night ended with quiet laughs, but the door to more—wilder, filthier games—was wide open, Crissy’s plans already brewing for the next sissy showdown.

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