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Girls Club Ch. 01

I stood by the bedroom window, letting the morning sun shine bright lines across my face. I closed my eyes and inhaled deep through my nose as the hazelnut flavored steam from my coffee reminded me of when everything was so ordinary. Ken was still in the shower and I wondered how he would like seeing me in my new XL knit sweater without any pants or underwear. Sometimes he would tip me extra when I did little things to make him happy, though he probably expected the tips to go towards new lingerie for me to wear. I did my best to put a portion of my earnings into a savings account so I could move to another city one day.

My penis swayed side to side as I walked over to the dresser and set my coffee down. I looked in the mirror and saw a beautiful woman. I used to see a lost, and feminized boy, but being with Ken for so long was beginning make it easier to suspend my masculinity, at least long enough to finish the deed. He loved the way my red lipstick complimented my ebony skin, so I put some on. My skin has always been very clear and I never grew much facial hair. That, along with my high cheekbones, made me look like a model, male or female. I put on some mascara and grabbed my wig cap before placing my wig on. I made cute faces in the mirror as I brushed my favorite straight-hair, black wig with brown highlights. I heard Ken cut the shower water off.

I quickly teased my hair, grabbed my coffee, then sat criss-cross on the bed. He opened the door then stood there, his short black hair still wet, chest glistening, and red towel around his waist. I took a sip of my still warm coffee, then looked up at him with my big eyes. I sat up straight, allowing my sweater to uncover my limp, black, cobra of a penis. Ken dropped his towel and walked toward me. His sizeable, white penis was fully erect and his balls hung low, still warm from the shower. This was good. He was going to be late to work to give me a nice fuck. "He's not tired of me yet," I thought to myself with relief. All of Ken's traps were eventually left behind as he didn't like to be committed for more than six or seven months at a time-six or seven months of bliss for whoever's term it was to serve. I was five and half months in already, but I was beginning to think that maybe I was special to him.

I was accustomed to the way his stubble tickled my face as we kissed sensually. Ken had one of his strong arms around me and the other tugging on my growing penis. He calls it a "shenis" which always makes me feel special. Normally, his traps were required to refer to their genitals as clitties, but I was different. My dick was the largest of them all-Just over 10 inches when fully erect, and hung flaccid around 8 and a half.

"Let me worship that cock," Ken whispered in my ear.

"You may," I replied. He knelt before the bed and pulled me to the edge. My long, black legs hung over his ivory shoulders as I pulled his head into my groin. He began to slowly lick the length of my member before I saw him make the head disappear behind his pink lips.

"Make it wet for me baby," I told him as I closed my eyes and held my head back. Slurp, slurp, -cckkk! -ockk! He gagged as I thrusted my pelvis back and forth. "I'm gonna fuck that fucking throat," I said. He likes it when I dominate him with my shenis during sex, but I know better than to disrespect him in public. He was doing an amazing job working my cock. For a moment, I imagined I was fucking my ex-girlfriend in her tight white pussy, but Ken's beard, tickling my groin, brought me back to my new reality. My new life. My double life.

The tickling turned me on even more as he sped up his cock sucking. "You do it so good to me daddy! You're so good to me daddy!" I screamed. "I'm gonna cum, daddy!"

"You're gonna cum for me, godess?" he said as he came up for air.

"Yes, daddy! Make me cum daddy! Aaahhh...uhyeahh! Aaahhhmmmm... I squealed as my load flooded his mouth. He gulped and licked around my head to get the remaining cum still oozing from my stick. I took some deep breaths, my heart was still pumping from my orgasm.

"Now go put on those heels I like baby," he told me. It was his turn to cum. I got up and walked to the closet. I slipped the pink suede pumps Ken was referring to. They really highlighted my calf muscles and made my black sissy booty look more plump. I crossed my right leg over my left and bent over, my cock and balls hanging out from behind my legs. I teased my butthole for him. "I want that fat sissy booty," he said. I walked over to him as womanly as I could, making my hips sway side to side and my flaccid dick slap my thighs. "Get on all fours."

"Yes, daddy," I replied. I got on the bed and bent over on my knees. I twerked my booty cheeks for him. He liked that. He said that it made him feel as if he was in a rap video, and I was his video vixen. My balls bounced up and down as I twerked for him. He slapped my ass cheek then kissed it before repeating on the other cheek. I opened and closed my hole for him in anticipation for what was next. I felt his tongue slowly lick from my scrotum to my boi pussy.

"Mmmhhhh..." I groaned as he began to rim my ass. It's one of my favorite sensations. He prairie-dogged my tight hole for a while as I began to feel a rush of ecstasy. He stood up straight and grunted and he began to center his dick to my ass. I arched my back for him, just as I was taught. My ass rose a few inches in the air. He pushed in, slowly. "Easy daddy, please," I whispered.

"Shhhhh..." he pushed further. My ass and abdominal muscles relaxed until I felt his ball-bearing scrotum gently slap my ass crack. I was his. He was mine. He rammed my butthole over and over and over and over again. His strong hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him as he electrified my G-spot. My long, thick cock was swinging everywhere.

"Ah yeah! A yeah!" I squeled in a high pitched voice.

"Mmgghhhh...mmmhhh," he began to groan. He was getting ready to breed my bussy.

"Cum, daddy! Please, daddy, I want it!" I yelled. I did want it

"Gyeeahh!" He halfway whispered and screamed at the same time. I felt a rush of hot semen fill my hole. Ken pulled out, my ass dripping. I felt his lips kiss just below my right ear and he whispered, "Good girl,"


I never questioned if I was gay growing up. I was more or less a typical boy and had no problem with that. In fact, I used to wear a suit to third grade every now and then because I loved pretending I was a handsome, grown up man. With that being said, I have loved the excitement of dressing like a girl for as long as I can remember. There always seemed to be something so intimate, so sensual, so scandalous about having the chance to try on a pretty dress and some makeup. Maybe there is just some girl inside of my brain, perhaps heart, that needs some attention from time to time. Whoever that girl is, she loves to come out and play.

It was made clear to me, by my mother, that dressing like a female was an abominable behavior. She caught me with one of my older sisters dresses one day, when I was 8 years old."

"James, where are you going with your sister's dress?" I heard her call from behind me. I wondered if my older brother Jared had overheard. He was in his room playing video games. My dad had taken my sister, Haley, to dance practice and I thought my mother had been occupied on a conference call in her office. But sure enough, there she was glaring at me holding my sisters purple, frilly pageant dress from last year. I was caught red handed.

"Oh, um, Haley wanted me to look at something on it before she got back," was my pathetic excuse.

"James, you were going to try that on weren't you?" She had me. I confessed. She brought me in her and dad's room and sat me down. Her tone was gentle. "James, Why were you trying on your sister's dress?" she asked. It's been 13 years, but I remember the conversation well.

"I don't know, I just always wanted to try on girl clothes."

"But, why?"

"It just always seemed like a fun idea!" I started to open up. "Whenever we go to the stores for clothes, We spend so much time looking for things for Haley. The girl clothes take up like the whole store and everything is so pretty, I wanna try it too." I remember thinking to myself, as I said those words, that it just made sense that I would want to wear a dress. I thought girls were awesome and I just wanted to dress up sometimes.

"James," my mother cut in. God made you a boy and he made Haley a girl. Boys and girls wear different clothes for a reason," she said she walked to her night stand and grabbed her cinder-block of a Bible. You could tell she read it a lot because the pages were extremely worn. "God says, in Deuteronomy twenty-two, verse five: 'The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment. For all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.' Amen." I was immediately filled with shame. My mother was super religious and I was close to her. I used to think that I was close with god because I was close with her, so hearing this scripture made me feel a ton of guilt. I still, however, struggled to see what was so wrong about crossdressing, but mother told me not to question God. Nonetheless, my fervent secret desire to crossdress burned in the back of my mind for the next few years.


Ken grabbed a towel and wiped up some of the mess we made on the sheets. "Guess I'll have to change my sheets again," he said to himself.

"You always do," I said back. He kind of smirked, let out one huff of a laugh, then started getting dressed. The deed had been done. I took off my wig and placed it in a plastic bag, then I took off my sweater and walked naked to the bathroom. There was four-hundred dollars in cash for me on the counter. I took a shower then brushed my teeth at the sink as the fog on the mirror slowly cleared up.

I looked up and saw my reflection, a young handsome man, staring back at me. No one would ever suspect that I crossdressed, much less that I made money by entertaining men while doing it. The duality made me feel like I had a superpower. I really had a natural talent for impersonating a woman, then going right back to presenting as a normal looking black guy.

Back in college, my best friend Jason, and I signed up for a "womanless" pageant fundraiser to raise money for breast cancer research. It was a full beauty pageant where the men signed up to impersonate woman. The event had gotten a lot of buzz around campus, largely due to Stacy Green's campaign efforts to get some of the school's most recognizable boys to participate. I'm talking about some of the school's best athletes, student government officers, and a couple popular YouTubers who attended. In fact, so many guys were interested in signing up as it would score them points with girls, the organizers of the pageant held mass tryouts.
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