my f***ed sissy boy sex - Sex Stories

my f***ed sissy boy sex

NOT MY STORY BUT REALLY ON PAR WITH MY PANGS AND HUNGER FOR MAN MUSCLE IN MY SISSY BOY FAGGOT ASS AND TO BE TREATED LIKE A SLUTTY WHORE So here we go, MY FANTASY =========== The Visitor He felt nervous, probably more nervous than he had ever felt before, he knew he was stupid to have ever let it go as far as this, but somehow he just hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd placed the chair in the centre of the lounge as he'd been told and now he sat on the settee looking at it, waiting. Waiting for the text message that he feared would come, yet still somehow in a madly excited anticipation, fuelling that growing fear that was gnawing inside his stomach. He sat there, dressed in the things he'd been told to wear, the silky panties, tights, bra, petticoat and the dress, just as he'd been told. It had been exciting then, being told to dress like this, he'd been so aroused by it, thrilled by being told, by obeying and dressing up like that and the submissiveness it made him feel. But now, now as he sat there on the settee looking at the chair in the middle of the room, he felt foolish, foolish and afraid. Afraid of what he'd idiotically agreed to do. His phone was in his trembling fingers, his palms hot, perspiring against it, waiting for the text, afraid, wanting it to come and yet not wanting it to come too, His cheeks felt flushed his head full of recriminations. This was wrong, he shouldn't do this, he really shouldn't do this. The bleep when it came was sudden, it made him ...

... jump, his heartbeat leaping to the sound, almost dropping the phone in his fright. He opened the message, his fingers trembling in an extension of the fear that was gripping him, his head buzzing as he read the message. "Have you done what I've told you to do?" there was no signature, just the one anonymous questioning line, no room for discussion. Trying to text in an attempt to stop his fingers from trembling in a tarantella on the screen and correcting his misspelled mistakes as he wrote his short reply, then he stopped and hovered over the send button. He should ignore it, not send it, just forget it all, there was still time to stop all this. He was breathing swiftly, panting, the fear fuelling his nervousness. He glanced down at the phone again, resolving not to send it, but then the heat from his trembling finger barely touching the screen triggered the reply and in a screaming anguish inside his head he saw it as it was sent. He got up wringing his hands, the fear growing and growing inside him, he couldn't do this, he couldn't, he just couldn't go ahead with it, he already felt humiliated by the very thought. His mobile beeped again in speedy response raising his already frantic heartbeat to even greater heights, he was almost too terrified to read that next text, yet deep down that arousal fuelled by that mixture of emotions was making him tingle wantonly between his legs. Quivering he opened the next message "Go to the front door, unlock it and stand in the hall ...