This is the story of a man who never realized the strength of his inner woman until he was in his thirties. It is a story of loving feminization and incest. The story is fiction. Everyone is eighteen, or older. I would normally post this story under the incest category, but I thought it would fit just as well under crossdressers. ***** I was thirty-three...
The name is Stella Clayton-Qasim and I'm a thirty three-year-old Black woman living in the City of Detroit, Michigan. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, delightfully curvy, big-breasted, wide-hipped and big-bottomed. I used to play for the Women's Rugby Club at my old university. These days, I work as a clerk/legal secretary for a law firm in downtown Det...
Author's Notes: (1) This is fiction. (2) Nonetheless, the pull of fantasies can be extreme. Never underestimate where it can take you. (3) These are broken characters. In the real world, one would be dead, the other in jail. (4) It is best to read chapters 1 and 2 to understand how Jack met Mistress Joan. (5) My apologies to those that want to get thei...
Her Side We were all laying around the den floor in a state of partial dress, our undies scattered about. Each of us had pretty well messed up her makeup with our love making, including Victoria. She lay back against the sofa with her dress barely covering her spent penis, a satisfied look on her face, a dribble of cum running down from the corner of her mo...
Your a young man in his late teens. Average build, average height, brown hair, green eyes. You know the type never stood out in a crowd for your good looks but never scared children when you went to the store either. Having just finished high school ou decide to start doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood to raise some money. Maybe it was college, maybe it...
An internship was compulsory as you approach the final year of your high school. The school believes in providing students with the opportunity to gain valuable practical experience by learning from the industry of tomorrow directly. You went for several interviews and only successful candidates get notified. In the events that the none of the companies pick...
I moved to Los Angeles from New York about eight years ago, right after my divorce. The marriage didn't last long and ended bitterly. I now live a block from the beach in Santa Monica in a fairly exclusive high-rise apartment building. I quit my job as a graphic artist with a top advertising firm in NY, when I moved and started my own business here. I have a...
The clock on the bedside table clicked loudly in the otherwise quiet room. A soft buzz of cicadas outside drifted in through the small gap in the raised window. The room seemed to glow with pink from the afternoon sun. The room hadn't changed much since Rachel had begun her fashion phase in high school. Her closet (and the closet of the guest room) were stu...
Saturday morning I awoke with apprehension. For the first time my fantasies and perversions were open to those beyond myself; Jillian and Doug would arrive at about 4:30 for a barbeque and lots of wine. Normally in the past this would have meant a good old fashioned blitz of fun, but things had changed; pissing on tree trunks with Doug in the forest would ne...
Readers: please be advised that the characters and detail of homes etc in these stories are purely fictional. If there actually is a house with 2 red barns on Amaranthe Road, it is purely coincidental, and Diane will not greet you at that door. ***** After abundant small talk and further confirmation of the reasons why Jason had requested this extended sta...