How I Met My Shemale Pt. 03

"Welcome to the world of the chaste, lover."

I felt around; a cold metal padlock rattled with dry laughter.

"Go ahead. Play around all you want. I have the key to your fun parts now. Mine all mine."

"What!"

"Quiet. Be Quiet or I'll have Joyce in here."

I sank down, missing the chair. I tumbled back, sat on the floor with legs shaking. She towered over me.

"I have to pee." I couldn't bear to look up.

"No problem. You're okay for that. Go pee sitting down, like a little bitch," she laughed.

I sat on the toilet; she stood in front of me, legs widespread, slapping my face with her cock. "I don't hear peeing! Don't even think about breaking out of it. I have a video of you. You know that." I relaxed; I let it gush out. It was as hot as the skin of my face. "Good. Go clean yourself up. We're going out. With Joyce."

"Where?"

"Oh, you'll see. Hurry up."

I let water in around the side vents of the device. Satisfied and sanitized, I went for the blow dryer. I shut it off; I heard Cheryl snickering outside the door.

She met me back by the bed, handed me a frilly pair of panties. She dropped to her knees, one hand over her mouth, eyes gleaming, examining my cock trap.

"Put on my panties, slut. Sorry, they could use a wash. You not getting my clean ones." She stepped in close, whispering, "You're going to suck them clean when we get back."

I dressed and waited in the car. Cheryl and Joyce came out, heels clacking along, tits jouncing. They could have passed for a hot mother and her slutty daughter. "Slide over," said Cheryl, "I'm driving." I sat sullen and defeated, never looking where we went.

"We're here! Let's go in." I looked up. Oh hell no. She'd parked in front on the adult theatre in the crappy part of town. I turned to scan Joyce's face for a clue.

"We are?" asked Joyce. She sat red in the face.

"Well yeah. My adult study project, remember?" said Cheryl.

After she spoke, she sneered at my captive groin. I imagined myself bolting from the door, running away. "Let's go," said Cheryl. Who was I kidding? Time to pay the piper.

I guided the ladies around the worst of the broken glass on vomit on the way there. A glow in the dark condom drifted eerily by in the gutter water. Yuck. Joyce hesitated; Cheryl urged us on.

It wasn't so bad once we got inside. I wondered what a blacklight would reveal about the condition of the theatre seats. I turned to say as much when Joyce took the seat to the left of me. Cheryl sat in the seat on my right, leaned in, "Shh, it's starting."

Suffice to say, the plot and dialog weren't all that important. I took my eyes from the screen, wincing. My cock was doubled over, straining in clear plexiglas. I looked at Cheryl—all knowing, smug and glowering, ignoring me. And there was Joyce—twitching, squirming in her seat. She gave me a taken aback, 'well I never' look. I switched my attention to the movie. Enough with reality already.

Cheryl shoved a bag of popcorn in my lap, and held it there. The heat of it seared down through to my tortured cock. My hips lurched; popcorn shot into the air. There was a torrent of chuckles behind me. Cheryl reached over, "Easy big fella."

The on-screen characters were getting down to business. The actress was servicing two men at the same time. Joyce jumped in her seat when the third man came in, and stuck his cock into the last available hole. "That makes three. Fuck yeah!" hollered someone behind us.

I stared transfixed on the screen. It never occurred to me that some women might like it in the ass. I heard talking nearby. Some jerk sat down beside Cheryl, chatting her up.

Joyce bumped into my seat with her fidgeting. She uncrossed her legs. The scent of perfume mingled with ripe pussy wafted by. She leaned forward, grinding her big ass into the seat, eyes glowing. Wet cocks and cunts slamming together, cocks fucking asses, reflected in her eyes. Her breasts spilled out of her blouse—her nipples at full attention. I wanted to come so damn bad. I imagined tit-fucking her, and feeding her my sperm.

Never taking her eyes from the screen, she made a furtive grab for the popcorn. Her hand remained there, burrowing down towards my lap. Her fingers touched down on my trapped manhood. She froze.

"Oh dear." She stifled a laugh. "So sorry. Real sorry. Cheryl must be very understanding." She leaned back arms crossed; a wry grin branded her face.

I turned to Cheryl, my head swimming; cold pangs spread from my sex organs. She jumped up, having slapped the guy beside her upside the head. "Fuck off!" Cheryl hit him again; they rolled into the aisle. Fuck it. Serves her right.

The theatre security came to the rescue. They ushered the two of them out, spewing obscenities all the way. Everyone booed and threw popcorn.

I stayed put. I closed my eyes and leaned back, tipping my head against the headrest.

Joyce slipped her hand under the bag, groping me in earnest. "What's the matter little man? Not excited?" I sat stone still, hands clenching the armrests. "Wait, what is all this?" She shook her hand, toggling my package with brazen tugs.

She pulled straight up, stretching my balls to their limits. I groaned; sweat beaded on my upper lip. I lifted my hips. "Oh fuck it. Too weird." She shrugged, she let go. A little more, a very little more—I would have squirted in my pants—soaking my dirty panties. Funny how they always know exactly when to stop.

We rode home in silence, the three of us. Cheryl parked, slammed the door behind her; Joyce followed with a damp spot on her dress. I sat alone for the longest time.

Back inside our place, I found Cheryl had locked me out of the bedroom. She'd made a half-assed attempt to set up the hide-a-bed, so there was my hint.

I was past needing to jerk off; mostly I needed to wash my cock. The water flooded the device, displacing thick streams of my frustration.

No sleep—tossing and turning for hours was all I did. I found a bathrobe draped over the washing machine, and got undressed. I searched around for more clothes to even out the wash load. All in, I started the machine.

Having tied the bathrobe, hiding my shameful cock trap, I turned to drag my sorry self back to the couch.

"Hey you. Can't sleep?" asked Joyce.

I backed away, struck dumb, nodding a yes.

"I can't either. Damn my pills," she said. She held a glass of wine. Her tits swayed as she advanced on me. Her eyes smoldered.

She took another step towards me, rocking her meaty hips; I took another backward step, ending with me backed up against the juddering washing machine. She had her red teddy on again. I blushed. And I stared at her.

"So, still have something strange on?"

I nodded. We stood facing each other. My mouth went dry during the wordless standoff.

She spoke. "Show me. Let me help."

I swung my head to the side, eyes closed. I held both hands over my cock.

I opened my eyes. She charged forward, bringing her knee up between my legs. We grappled together—her hands searching out my cock, wrestling me, shoving me around, taunting and teasing.

Exhausted, I got her in a clinch, my arms around her. The scent of her exertion flooded out from under her arms. I smelled the crisp eggshell scent of her perfumed breasts as well. She sighed; she shoved my face into her cleavage, and stroked the back of my head—so wrong, so warm and consuming. My legs trembled.

"It's okay," she said. "Up on the washing machine. Let me see it." The washer rumbled under my ass. It jiggled my balls as she examined me. She planted a kiss on the cock trap; heat from her lips swelled me. She palmed my balls, rolling them, kneading them together.

She shook her head, musing, "That's something. But do this one thing for me."

We traded positions: She sat, legs spread on the washing machine—her pussy a well of gleaming pink. The vibrations set her tits shaking. She shoved them together, murmuring, "Kiss it. Kiss it. It's been so long. I won't tell." She dropped her hands down, spreading her sex lips wide. "Lick me here." Her thumbs circled the hooded top of her slit. Pulling back, she exposed her jutting clitty.

I closed my lips around her straining nub. Her cunt flesh was so wet and hot. I probed her clit with my tongue; I slipped two fingers into her tunnel, finger fucking her sin pit. It closed up tight. "Oh good! Good! Don't stop! Perfect!" My forehead burrowed into her soft abdomen; her soft pubic curls tickled my eyelashes. Her sweet pussy thrilled me. My cock trap stuck straight out; the bright metal ball ring bruised me.

More cunt lapping, more fingers squeezing into her greedy pink. She swung her thick thighs up around my head, securing my face deep between her legs. She came, shoving my face with bucking passion. She cried out through clenched teeth with abandon. "Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck!" The washing machine stopped abruptly—in the midst of her climax.

We waited. Thinking us safe, she whispered in my ear, "Now you. I'll do what I can."

She restarted the washing machine. "Down on your knees. "Order me down to my knees. Say it. Make me your slut. Make me do it," she said.

She feigned resistance; she followed my orders. "Get down. Suck me off," I said. Hands behind her head, I thrust my caged cock against her lips, hearing the occasional prolonged, messy suck, feeling the silken wetness of her tongue, poking through the holes, washing by balls, denied of a true cock sucking. Lipstick smeared, she looked into my eyes. I released her.

Again she gripped the cock cage; again she jacked and yanked, determined, slamming, stretching my balls away from my body. That familiar tension of climax came swarming. "Come! Give it to me." Her hot lips closed around the plastic cage, waiting, craving it.

"Here! Waiting for this?" It was Cheryl. She took me from behind. Arms around my waist, her cock oozed precome into my asshole.

"Cheryl!" gasped Joyce. "I thought__"

"Fuck!__" She shoved it in, shocking my asshole. My face contorted.

"You!__" She slammed her furious shaft in again, deeper. I gasped and stumbled forward.

"Both!"

She dug her nails into my hips, fucking my ass, driving the breath out of me.

"Shit! What are you! What the hell are you doing to him!"

"Shut the fuck the up Joyce! Suck him! Watch how much my slut loves getting fucked!"

I reached for Joyce; I grabbed her by the hair, frantic in urging her to take my cock. Cheryl thrusted, hips slamming me, fucking me mercilessly. She paused, rotated her hips and pulled out. Slam! Her cock sprang back into my ass, jammed in, humping my prostate like a horny bitch. Her body shook; she jetted me full of fuck sauce.

She pulled out; her knob swung free. Every ragged nerve in my body fired.

Cheryl screamed, "Now get out! I fucking hate you! You fucking cocksuckers! Get out!" She landed me a hard kick, square on my freshly fucked ass.

I staggered forward, back arched, my big horny blonde held fast to my tortured eruption.

Joyce got her mouthful.