Parents’ car vanishes around the corner. Heart pounds. Finally alone. Rush to mom’s vanity. Hands shake grabbing foundation, mascara. Smear it on. Eyes widen into doe-like slut eyes. Lips plump and red. Mirror shows a girl staring back. My cock twitches hard. Dad calls me a sissy? Fuck, it turns me on. Joy surges, forbidden heat between legs.
Long hair falls perfect. Nails already girly-long. Into my room. Flip the secret panel. Treasures gleam: black faux-leather skirt from dumpster dive. Stolen mom’s sheer black stockings with patterns. Worship the prize – shiny black pumps, size 40. Paid 155 francs, cashier sneered ‘Goodbye, madame.’ Humiliation burned, but cock leaked pre-cum running out.
The Awakening: Slipping into Antoinette
Slide stockings up smooth legs. Skin tingles. Skirt hugs ass tight. Buckle heels – straps bite ankles, spine arches slutty. Yellow-black striped sweater over tee. Mirror: horny little bee ready to buzz. Pulse races. Two days as Antoinette. No one knows. Pure illicit rush.
Grab VHS porn stash. Kitchen banana, thick ripe one. Incise peel with nail. Plop on couch. Brigitte Lahaie’s flick starts. Her lips wrap real cock. Mine engulfs banana. Sloppy wet sucks. Tongue swirls head. Saliva drips. Not real dick, but close. Hand grips my throbbing meat. Stroke slow, then pump furious. Veins bulge. Pre-cum slicks palm.
Mind spins. Not home anymore. Campus. I’m Lydie now – blonde goddess I crave. Her perky tits, teasing lips. Wish I was her, queen of cocksuckers. Slobbering every cute guy’s load. Banana deep-throats, gags me. Real one would explode. My cock screams. Flexible as fuck, bend forward. Lips seal my own pulsing head. Suck myself greedy.
The Act: Sucking Forbidden Fruit
Hot jets blast throat. Gulp cum down, salty thick. Tongue laps shaft clean. Last spasms fade. Freeze. Dad stands there, statue of rage. Eyes bulge at me, skirt hiked, cock in mouth. Mom behind, shocked. ‘Filthy faggot pervert!’ he roars. World crashes. Spit out dick. Blur motions: wipe makeup, ditch girly shit, pack bag. Out the door. No words.
Street mocks me. Smirks everywhere. Paranoid? Eyes still smoky – forgot mascara smear! Bus stares. Ticket lady grins. Train whispers. Pass out exhausted. Cannes jolts me awake. Jerome waits, grabs bag. His studio: cozy, safe. Shower? Hell yes. Mirror hits: smoky eyes scream sissy. He saw. Why no freakout?
Out fresh. Kitchen clatter. Bomb-ass brunette in sky-high heels cooks. Turns: Jerome. Perfect makeup, curves popping. ‘Surprised? You thought you were the only one?’ Laughs, pecks cheek. Relief floods. Secret shared. Not alone. Heart soars. Dared the forbidden. Thrill lingers, cock stirs again.