arrived in the corner of the car park on perfect time, but i could not see his car anywhere. I Left a message on the dating site, asking if everything was ok. If he was not here in 10 minutes I would leave, and block him. A minute later I received a response, he was there and coming over, he just wanted to check that it was me.
So many times on so many meets it starts this way. A man just wants to make sure the leather skirt wearing goth enby in exactly the right position at the right time actually IS Jayne and not some random leather clad enby.
"It would be embarrassing if I introduced myself to the wrong girl." he said. "Sorry about that."
"No problem." I responded. "Shall I just call you Big?"
"That's what they all call me" said Big.
I could see why. His profile page had not been lying. It said 6'4" but so many guys exaggerate their height, just as so many girls like me filter their photographs. It was a pleasant surprise.
"Shall we get going?" I asked, "where are you parked?"
"I'm over here," and he pointed to a works van.
"It looks like you have come from one job to another!" I exclaimed, "what happened to the car?"
"A slight change of plan."
It was a plain van, white with no decals or business details.
"You don't seriously think I'm getting into the back of a strangers van looking like this?" I suggested, and he saw the look on my face.
"No!" he replied, "sluts that look this good get to ride up front with me."
I grabbed my purse from my car, locked it and followed him to the van, keeping my respectful distance. Even though it was not terribly busy, neither of us wanted to draw too much attention to ourselves. If he was married or had a girlfriend, we wanted to steer clear off any awkward conversations and prying eyes.
I stepped up into the van with my 4" heels. It was definitely a male domain. The cab wasn't tidy, with several days-old tabloids in the window and remnants of a lunch on the seats and floor. Empty cans of cheap cola and lemonade were rolling in the footwell.
"Where are we going?" I asked, and hoped that it wouldn't be far.
"Just down here really, perhaps 5 minutes away." He said, turning the van to a B road just past the main entrance to the store. "I know just the place".
True to his word, after a few minutes of driving he turned off the B road onto a single lane road that was much more a track. Perhaps farmers used it to access fields, but rarely dog walkers. It looked like it hadn't seen much traffic. Hedges were big and overgrown on both sides, and a central median had formed from mud and plants that wheels were not able to drive over. The day was warm, but several rainy days had preceded. Holes off the edge of the track were still full of water that had yet to dry.
After 30 seconds of driving, the tall hedges cleared into a turning circle. It was a dead end. A gate to a field was clearly used by a farmer to gain access, but it looked like the land was not being used by any animals at this time. Another gate led to an electrical box near a pylon that stretched out electrical cables across the hills above the supermarket and beyond. We were actually not that far from civilisation, but sufficiently far away from being disturbed, although that did remain a probability.
Big turned off the engine of the van. He did not make any eye contact. "So you like being humiliated do you, Jayne?"
It didn't sound like a question, more of a statement. For a split second, I wondered if I was in trouble here.His reasonably friendly banter of the journey had turned into a more serious tone. Perhaps a tone used when abusing and humiliating women like me.
"Well, I do like..."
"Shut up and start sucking my cock you fucking slut."
I didn't know what to do or say, is this part of the menu we had planned to follow on our meet? Was it just him being in a role play? The answer was that in this precise moment I wasn't sure at all which one was correct.
He grabbed the wrist of my right hand and pulled me over the bench seat closer to him. His hands were still speckled in paint from a job site. He hadn't even washed up before our meeting. The skin on my hand was pale, I never liked getting a tan. It contrasted with the shining black varnish I have lacquered over my nails every two weeks.
Still holding my wrist, he used my hand to rub himself roughly through his work jeans.
"You like this, Bitch?" He laughed. "Take my cock out and play with it."
Still not knowing what was real and what was not, I thought it best to follow his instruction. He was still sitting behind the wheel of the van. I twisted myself so that I was side on to him, but facing, and awkwardly unbuckled his belt.
"For fuck sake, I thought you knew what you were doing?"
He scowled, but still didn't look over at me. He pulled the remaining inches of his belt though the buckle and pulled down the zip of his trousers. However he felt about me, his cock showed that it was at least turning him on. It strained against the cotton of his pants. Pants? Who wears pants? It was on his profile that he claimed to be aged 45, but in this bright sunlight I could see that it was probably closer to 55.
He took the elasticated waistband of his pants with both thumbs and pulled the material down past his cock and balls, shuffling in the seat to get more comfortable. His cock was erect, probably 5" in length but thicker than average. It was uncut, and his foreskin was not pulled back over the large bell end. It was long and rough looking.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing, I was just...."
"Just fucking suck it you fucking slut."
It was always going to be clumsy, but I decided to get completely onto the bench seat and kneel across it, like in a doggy position. My knees buried into the worn out foam, and my stiletto heels pointed up and out towards the passenger window. Luckily I doubted that any passers-by would be likely.
I took the base of his cock in my right hand, the palm of my left steadying myself on the seat. My head slowly went towards his cockhead and as it reached the tip, I felt a strong push to the back of my head which forced his cock deep into my mouth. He held it there.
"Finally, you slut.'
He held my head down until i was slapping the seat with my left hand, eventually he conceded I'd had enough and to allow me back some air. But immediately he grabbed my ponytail and was guiding my lips back towards his cock, thrusting his hips up to make me take it ever deeper. He didn't want a blowjob, he just wanted to fuck my mouth as hard as he could, like a cunt. All that effort of dressing for him, looking nice, and he just wanted to skull fuck someone like a piece of meat.
He kept his right hand firmly gripping my hair in a fist, and placed his left hand palm upwards on my throat. He wasn't choking me, but he held my windpipe firmly, stronger than anyone had ever done to me before.
With every thrust of his hips, he accentuated the first syllable of his words.
"Fucking suck my cock, slut." he repeated over. Until it was just, "Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut."
He wasn't careful with me, he just didn't care at all. I could feel the blood pooling in my head, and my eyes starting to water. I wished that I had used waterproof mascara, which was quite a sensible thought for the predicament I had found myself in. My lipstick had started to stain his cock a light red. His thrusts were relentless. I was able to go into 'the zone', a name i had coined when previous lovers had been carried away when fucking my mouth. I became relaxed, at peace when in the zone and the harsh reality of the situation faded away, like it was happening, but I was watching it at a distance. I would have genuinely enjoyed it if I knew it was just an act.
How long can he continue? I thought to myself, and after what felt like ten minutes of having my head bonked by both a cock and a steering wheel, I knew he couldn't make himself cum like this.
He pulled my head away from him, saliva dripping from my mouth in long strands, cheeks flushed red and mascara running from my eyes. A false eyelash had also been removed, and was currently halfway down my cheek. I gasped for air.
"Get out," he said. "Get out of my van. I don't pick up whores."
He released his grip on my ponytail and i sat back on my heels, scrambling to find the passenger door catch. I was not sure If he was kicking me out and going to drive off, or wanting to continue to have me. Either way, I thought it best to do what he said.
The ground under my feet was just earth, with a scattering of grass. It was like a tractor had churned the ground during a particularly wet season. It was dusty, but pools of water had accumulated in the tyre tracks. Big opened his door and got out of the van, his trousers now down to his thighs.
"I want you to finish the job." he said, laughing to himself.
He walked over to me and again grabbed me by the wrist, it was becoming sore. he paraded me to the back of the van, making me stumble and trip over my thin heels, that sunk an inch with each step into the earth. With a jolt, he prized a door open. My mind racing, was I going to be bundled into the back of it? No, he was using it for cover, so that no one could see.
He placed one arm around my small waist, for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me. But no, he reached with the other hand for my ponytail again. Seizing it tightly once more, he pulled my head down, with both hands now, so that I was forced into my knees in-front of him. My black stockings gripped the dirt, at least it was soft.
His cock was still hard, and sweating now. A trickle of saliva and sweat running down the front of the shaft and pooling at his heavy balls, which hung low from his crotch.
I hooked my lips back over his erection. He was having trouble cumming but he was able to keep it very hard. I tried my best to blow it, to lick the shaft and kiss it like my previous boyfriends had loved. He didn't want that, he just wanted to shag my lips. Without the constraints of the driver's seat, he was fully able to put his full thrust into each stroke. He held my head constant, and tried to get his cockhead past my tonsils. It wasn't going to be easy, I was hot, overheating. I could feel my throat tense up and close. He pushed his cock deep.
"I'm going to get it down your throat if it's the last thing I do." He roared. I believed him.
He held it for a few seconds, and I felt myself swallowing. The pressure from his cock and the opening of my throat was enough for it to penetrate it, just an inch, but it was there. I hoped that this would be enough.
"Fucking get in" he cried, and used small, jerking motions to keep the glans in my throat, grinding his hips in a figure-eight.
The tightness of my throat on his penis was apparently enough, he built this up into a crescendo from which there would be no return. A few seconds before the moment, he pulled his cock away and grabbed at it, pointing it towards my face.
"I'm cumming." He shouted, not caring who or what could hear him now.
I braced myself for the hot string of jizz about to be blasted to my face, but it was not coming. Instead he held the top on my forehead and it slowly pumped out an egg cup full of off white, perhaps yellowing, spunk. It was stringy, the consistency of egg white. The sort of cum you can smell faster than you can taste. It formed two streams that slowly seeped either side of my nose and down onto my top lip.
"Taste it." he demanded.
Still looking through me rather than at me, I looked up and him and licked the cum from my top lip and into my mouth. It tasted of stale tobacco. Still I presented it to him, not knowing if I could actually swallow it if I had to.
"Now swallow it," he instructed, "I want to see you drink it."
Of course he did. Of course he fucking did.
I took it to the back of my mouth, and swallowed it without hesitation. It was better that way. I showed him my tongue.
He reached down to his penis, now semi erect. His long foreskin was red, both with rubbing and my lipstick stains. To my surprise he held with with his thumb and index fingers. Pinching both sides, he opened it in a way that stupidly reminded me of how someone would open a bag of crisps. Back in the moment...
"Now listen carefully," he whispered, "I want you to put your tongue inside my foreskin and clean the spunk from me. You got that? Clean me."
I leaned in and with my tongue tried to get the tip between his cockhead and foreskin. It was a difficult task. I delicately took his skin into my own hands, my long black nails able to grip and hold it wider whilst I pushed my tongue inside. I licked it as best I could, the skin an inch deep on my tongue.
"Roll it back, slut." Came the instructions from above.
I slowly peeled back the foreskin from the head. It was getting harder again, but i manoeuvred it to be fully back now, revealing a well used head that was a deep purple. It was easier to lick the cum from the head now, and I felt him laughing as I realised that it wasn't just fresh cum inside. At the base of the foreskin was a semi solid mass of a yellowing substance.
I didn't want him to, but he did it anyway. He reached down and twisted his cock 90 degrees so that i could get a better look. He ran his thumbnail under it, peeling out the mess and onto his cock. I felt myself rocking back on my heels.
"What's wrong with you now, you cunt?" He asked. "Eat it."
There was no other option, i licked it like you would an ice-cream on a sunny day. It WAS a s sunny day, but it certainly didn't smell or taste like vanilla. I was being pushed to my limits and he knew it.
Without warning, a powerful stream of piss sprayed out of his cock eye. I jerked my head back but he tracked its position. Left, then right, it sprayed the drying cum from my face and ran down my neck, in between my neck and leather collar and onto my chest. My white cotton blouse greedily soaked up the urine, deliberately being aimed at my mouth and lips.
"Stay still," he demanded, "and open your mouth."
Of course he wanted me to taste it. Of course he wanted me to drink his piss. Of course he wanted to soak me with it.
Lots of men are not able to piss on a slut like me, but this meet was different. He didn't have any of the hang ups normal guys have about urinating on another human. It was just something he did, with no worries about it whatsoever. Like I was his to piss on.
There was no use fighting it, once you are soaked you may as well just sit, or in my case kneel, and take it. He pissed for nearly 30 seconds. It wasn't strong smelling, but not weak. It was most definitely piss. It has soaked through the front of my blouse, revealing my black bra that used to be hidden underneath. It sounded hollow as it dripped and sprayed off the front of my black leather pencil skirt, that was held taught between my knees.
At least its over, I thought, I got through it. But it wasn't over.
With a powerful motion he pushed me, rocking off my knees and heels to my back. This wasn't part of our plan, our agreement. Yes, he had done things that were rough and grosser that I expected, but it was still part of what we agreed on beforehand.
He kicked dirt over me, like you would kick sand at a beach.
"Look at you." He said. "Just fucking look at the state of you. I fancied you half an hour ago. Not any more."
Pushing myself up with my elbows, I looked up at him. he still couldn't meet me eyes.
"I could hardly get an erection from you. I had to force myself to cum on you. Pissing on you actually made you prettier!"
He was in the moment, he believed this.
He bent down, and grabbed me by the ankle. Lifting my leg rocked me back again, and he now held tightly with both hands. He was older, but about twice my weight and more powerful than I was. He turned me around with my leg, grinding the back of my white blouse into the dirt.
He leaned back and found he could drag me without too much trouble. Walking backwards he dragged me over to an old tractor tyre run, and stood astride it. It was six inches deep with muddy water. He pulled again, and I could feel my bottom slip down into the divot. Cold water flooded my skirt, soaking my panties and crotch. He dragged me more, so that my back was now in the hole too.
"Now you actually are a filthy slut."
"Oh you twat," I struck back, "this wasn't what we agreed on. Wasn't eating, yes EATING your fucking fowl spunk enough for you?"
I knew instantly that this wasn't my role. I'm the submissive trans girl that gives good head, I'd lost control.
With a rage inside him, he ordered me to "Shut your fucking mouth."
I could feel his hands lift my leg higher, and start to unbuckle the ankle strap of my high heel. I tried to kick him off, but he levered the shoe clear. A glint was in his eyes. I swiped with my arm to try and claim it back.
"You want this, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes, I need it. This isn't funny anymore."
He lowered the stiletto shoe to the ground, but quickly using it as a trowel, scooped up a mixture of mud and water from the tracks.
He laughed at what he had just done.
"Now strip to your underwear."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I shouted back at him, my voice raised.
Slowly and deliberately, he repeated the words, "Strip. To. Your. Underwear."
"Oh no!"
"You will give me that blouse and your skirt even if I have to tear them off you."
And at that moment, I realised that he would do if I didn't comply with his order.
I rolled to my side, and pushed myself up so that I was standing again. I was wearing one heel, but I wasn't going to give that to him. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it from my shoulders.
"Give it to me."
I threw it to him, but he made non attempt to catch it, and just let it drop to the ground. It did so with the sound of a wet rag. It was a wet rag.
"Now the skirt."
I reached around to the back of my skirt, and took down the once silver zip. I had to pull from the hem to get it past my hips. It dropped to the floor and I stepped out of it.
"Give it to me."
I hooked the skirt around the toe of my stockinged foot, and flicked my once shiny black leather pencil skirt at him. It hit him on the thigh and dripped to the ground having caused a satisfying wet patch to appear on his jeans. A small payback.
"Thank you." He sneered, "and now you can have your shoe back."
He collected my skirt and blouse from the ground, and threw what was once an expensive shoe back to me, now full of mud.
I scooped out most of the mud from the shoe with my hands and rinsed what was left out in a fresh pool of water. At least it was clean if not dry. I steadied myself as I replaced it and struggled with the buckle. It never occurred to me that I was now standing on a dirt track in nothing but stockings, suspenders and a bra.
There was a loud slam as the rear door of the van closed. My date, if you could call him that now, had tried to make my humiliation complete. But he had one last surprise. He had placed my once white blouse and my leather skirt under each of the front wheels of his van.
"No, don't, don't do that." I pleaded.
"Sorry slut, it's for your own good."
I knew that they were my only way of escaping, as stupid as it sounded. Big hopped into the cab. I rushed around to the passenger door, it was locked. The engine roared into life, revved, and the front wheels spun sending my blouse and skirt under the van only to be rolled over by the back wheels.
Head in my hands, I couldn't make a sound. I approached what remained of them, and held them up. It wasn't that bad, right?
"Put them on." Was the shout from the van. "Put them back on and I will give you a lift back to your car.
Were some clothes better than no clothes, even if they had been ruined? I had no choice. I picked up my skirt off the ground, the leather had held up well. The zip had too. Yes, it was a little ruined, it has just gone around the wheel of a van after all. I rinsed it off as best I could and I held it up in my hands. Several whips by me drove off the worst of the water, it was at least an attempt to clear it.
I stepped back into it, it was soaking. At least it would hide my clit.
My blouse had not survived as well. Once a brilliant white, it was now at best a grey and had fine grit squashed into the cotton where the wheel had driven over it. It had changed from clothing to rag, but I'd have to put it on. Slipping my arms through was like submerging myself into a freezing cold bath. The weather was warm, but the water wasn't.
Why did I leave my jacket in the car? It would have been very useful now.
Soaking, filthy and thoroughly broken, I made my way to the passenger door.
"Whores in the back," he laughed, and pointed to the rear of the van. "I'll give you two knocks when we are in the car park."
"Bastard." I muttered under my breath,
The back of the van was bare, empty. It was impossible to stand up when the van was moving, especially in 4" heels. I'd have to sit again, on my wet bottom. How long would this take?
Five minutes later I felt the van turn into the car park, soon this would all be over.
Two loud bangs.
I opened or half of the rear doors. There was my car. 50 yards away.
"Closer." I shouted, and I could hear laughing.
"Ive just thrown your purse out of my passenger window, slut." he said, "And I've put a fiver in it for you."
I sat on the edge of the van bed, my legs visible but kept myself hidden from anyone. It was now gone 3pm and it was getting busier. I didn't want to go, I know it would be embarrassing. I was a wreck, a literal filthy slut. Cum, piss, mud - all for me.
I could have sat there for eternity, but the van started to move forwards. It moved a few yards, and I could see my purse. He will actually keep driving away!
I pushed myself out the van, and quietly closed the door as to not draw any more attention. I grabbed my purse from the floor. People were around, but not looking. Could I style it out? I'd have to.
Like this was the most natural thing in the world, I lifted my head high. Yes, I had been deep throated by a horrible person, but I took it without complaint.
As I opened my car door, still dripping with dirty water, I thank goodness that my pvc jacket was on the seat. At least I could keep my car dry this time. |
