Bi-Sexual Male / 33
Cross-dressing Scare
I like to cross-dress and meet men for sex. I'll do quite a lot of things but what I'm looking for is to be fucked by a man or by more than one man, while i'm dressed and made up like a slut.
I never have anybody to my house as I think that giving men an advantage over me like that would not be wise. I mean that they would know where I live, they know I dress up as a woman and have sex with lots of men. It would be a good way to put yourself in somebody else's power. I always meet men about 20 or 30 miles from where i live just to help with the anonymity.
These days I will always drive to the other person's house and dress when I arrive. What i used to do was dress at home, get in my car and drive to their house. I can get to my garage without leaving the house, and I loved the thrill and danger of the drive over as a woman. Still more the 2 minutes or so as i locked my car and walked in heels to their house, or stood at the lift door of multi-story flats dressed as a woman, in full view of everybody.
Sometimes i would even meet men in a secluded outdoor location, in the woods or something. I preferred a relaxed, longer session in a house where we will not be disturbed, but I did get off sometimes on being on my knees in the mud under some trees in the rain, sucking on some guys cock with another man stroking his dick to get ready.
So that is where I was, this night. A short, sparkly dress, dirty knees, the sound of the rain on leaves and all that. I'd been there before with the same man and his friend had come along too and I'd sucked them both off, one after the other. I'd got into his friend's running commentary as he was waiting for his turn "She likes sucking dicks man. You can tell by the way she licks your balls. Nobody does that unless they love it. She don't give a fuck about her muddy knees or who is going to come by. She'll suck us all off. Fucking cock sucking slut"
And he was right too. Anybody could have come along and i was just getting off more on the danger. This time there was only the one man, although he told me his friend was coming too and that 'other people come here as well'
This time we'd talked about fucking and the image I'd had in my mind was of me in the woods again, skirt up, bent over a low branch and getting it hard from behind while his friend fucked me in the mouth and called me a whore. Then me walking back to my car, looking at the pavement, past people who would see my dirty knees and know where I had been and what I'd be doing there.
Sure enough as I was sucking his dick, on my knees in wet leaves we could hear somebody coming and I kept my face buried in his crotch, excitedly sucking him and knowing what a whore I would look with my skirt hitched up and knickers down.
The problem with the thrill and danger of getting caught is that there has to be a real risk that it will happen. The first I knew of there being a problem was when my 'friend' pulled his dick out of my mouth and, with his jeans unbuttoned just ran for it. It was well done, I have to admit. His bulk had disappeared into the trees in seconds leaving me on my knees, partially disrobed, make-up smeared all over my face and looking up into the blinding torchlight beam
shone directly at me by one of two police officers.
I would love to be able to give you all the dialog but i think my mind went into seizure as soon as i realised what had happened. I know that i thought i was going to have a hard few minutes before i got back to my car and that i would never do this again. I also know that there was a point when i realised they were putting me into the back of the police car and taking me back to the station and that nothing i could do or say was going to stop it.
The phrase 'public decency' was used and I had an immediate moment of clarity where I could see myself collecting my stuff at work and trying to sound normal as the HR manager went through the motions and tried not to show her disgust, everybody staring at me as i walked out. i thought about how i would have to explain it all to my bewildered parents and family, wondered which of my friends would call me to say it didn't make any difference and which would just drop me. I thought of my neighbours smirking after it got in the local paper (as we entered the clearing, the accused was on his knees wearing a mini-dress, fellating an unknown man), me moving out after losing my job. I couldn't even think straight and I know that I was sick right there in the woods before we even went anywhere.
We arrived at the police station and even though it was the private entrance, i could hardly make myself walk I was so ashamed. I mean this lot must see it all on a daily basis but as i was led down the corridor and people, other police, passed us they all took a look and they all had a bit of an amused 'oh my god' look on their faces.
I went through some processing. I was hoping that somebody might offer me some clothes, or overalls or something but of course, they didn't. I had my own clothes. Slutty clothes. I tried to not give them my name but, again, they must go through this every day. I wouldn't be allowed to leave until that had happened and, how did i think i was going to get out otherwise.
So I was sat in a cell, awaiting further processing and feeling incredibly sick, sick like i'd never felt before in the life I had just ruined. I had always enjoyed a little humiliation in the cross-dressing sex that I'd gotten into. This wasn't the same thing. There was no plus side to this at all. It was just plain all-out awful.
That was when one of the police officers came in and told me i could go. I still wasn't thinking straight so i can't have asked very lucid questions about what was happening. She took me to a sergeant, who gave me back the car keys, phone and change i had handed in. Minutes later I walked out through the front door.
I had thought about asking for a lift back to my car but I think I just wanted to get out of there before somebody realised I shouldn't be allowed to leave. I was stood in a dark, rainy town (fortunately, this meant nobody around). I was wandering about, trying to work out how to find my car without encountering people. I was getting some shocked stares from the few pedestrians and some cars even slowed to take a look. It was a ridiculously long time before i realised my phone had the sat nav instructions to my car and an awful 20 minute walk, hardly daring to look up from my phone. When I got back to my car I started the engine, pulled away and cried all through the drive home.
I have no idea what happened that night and why I didn't get charged. For longer than six months I got a sick feeling every time a letter landed on my mat. My reasoning was that once I'd been processed in the station, it couldn't just go away. Could it? I have never understood what happened. Was it always just a scare tactic, in which case it worked, I've never done it again. Were they just having a busy night and cut their losses - I can't believe that once i was recorded, I could just disappear. Is there even a record of me being there?Will it show up at job searches? Did they fuck up the way they processed it and just let me loose because they wouldn't be able to prosecute? I don't know, but whatever it was it surely just about saved me from a complete breakdown
For nearly a year i didn't so much as look at a pair of knickers in a shop. Eventually though I had to go back to it because that is what I am deep down. I travel both ways as a man now. I never even wear panties under jeans in public. But once I'm in their house I will let my inner slut out to play again. Before I change back I love to take a look at myself in the mirror. I love to see smeared lipstick, or holed stockings where big men's hands have used me roughly, carpet burns on my knees (on my nose one time where he'd pushed my face into the floor as he used me) and the beginnings of a creeping soreness around my damaged hole.
I am typing this on a Sunday night while waiting for an answer on being used tonight. He likes to tear a hole in my panties and have me keep them on while fucks me. He knows just how to do it to girls like me. I have a hard on.
I never have anybody to my house as I think that giving men an advantage over me like that would not be wise. I mean that they would know where I live, they know I dress up as a woman and have sex with lots of men. It would be a good way to put yourself in somebody else's power. I always meet men about 20 or 30 miles from where i live just to help with the anonymity.
These days I will always drive to the other person's house and dress when I arrive. What i used to do was dress at home, get in my car and drive to their house. I can get to my garage without leaving the house, and I loved the thrill and danger of the drive over as a woman. Still more the 2 minutes or so as i locked my car and walked in heels to their house, or stood at the lift door of multi-story flats dressed as a woman, in full view of everybody.
Sometimes i would even meet men in a secluded outdoor location, in the woods or something. I preferred a relaxed, longer session in a house where we will not be disturbed, but I did get off sometimes on being on my knees in the mud under some trees in the rain, sucking on some guys cock with another man stroking his dick to get ready.
So that is where I was, this night. A short, sparkly dress, dirty knees, the sound of the rain on leaves and all that. I'd been there before with the same man and his friend had come along too and I'd sucked them both off, one after the other. I'd got into his friend's running commentary as he was waiting for his turn "She likes sucking dicks man. You can tell by the way she licks your balls. Nobody does that unless they love it. She don't give a fuck about her muddy knees or who is going to come by. She'll suck us all off. Fucking cock sucking slut"
And he was right too. Anybody could have come along and i was just getting off more on the danger. This time there was only the one man, although he told me his friend was coming too and that 'other people come here as well'
This time we'd talked about fucking and the image I'd had in my mind was of me in the woods again, skirt up, bent over a low branch and getting it hard from behind while his friend fucked me in the mouth and called me a whore. Then me walking back to my car, looking at the pavement, past people who would see my dirty knees and know where I had been and what I'd be doing there.
Sure enough as I was sucking his dick, on my knees in wet leaves we could hear somebody coming and I kept my face buried in his crotch, excitedly sucking him and knowing what a whore I would look with my skirt hitched up and knickers down.
The problem with the thrill and danger of getting caught is that there has to be a real risk that it will happen. The first I knew of there being a problem was when my 'friend' pulled his dick out of my mouth and, with his jeans unbuttoned just ran for it. It was well done, I have to admit. His bulk had disappeared into the trees in seconds leaving me on my knees, partially disrobed, make-up smeared all over my face and looking up into the blinding torchlight beam
shone directly at me by one of two police officers.
I would love to be able to give you all the dialog but i think my mind went into seizure as soon as i realised what had happened. I know that i thought i was going to have a hard few minutes before i got back to my car and that i would never do this again. I also know that there was a point when i realised they were putting me into the back of the police car and taking me back to the station and that nothing i could do or say was going to stop it.
The phrase 'public decency' was used and I had an immediate moment of clarity where I could see myself collecting my stuff at work and trying to sound normal as the HR manager went through the motions and tried not to show her disgust, everybody staring at me as i walked out. i thought about how i would have to explain it all to my bewildered parents and family, wondered which of my friends would call me to say it didn't make any difference and which would just drop me. I thought of my neighbours smirking after it got in the local paper (as we entered the clearing, the accused was on his knees wearing a mini-dress, fellating an unknown man), me moving out after losing my job. I couldn't even think straight and I know that I was sick right there in the woods before we even went anywhere.
We arrived at the police station and even though it was the private entrance, i could hardly make myself walk I was so ashamed. I mean this lot must see it all on a daily basis but as i was led down the corridor and people, other police, passed us they all took a look and they all had a bit of an amused 'oh my god' look on their faces.
I went through some processing. I was hoping that somebody might offer me some clothes, or overalls or something but of course, they didn't. I had my own clothes. Slutty clothes. I tried to not give them my name but, again, they must go through this every day. I wouldn't be allowed to leave until that had happened and, how did i think i was going to get out otherwise.
So I was sat in a cell, awaiting further processing and feeling incredibly sick, sick like i'd never felt before in the life I had just ruined. I had always enjoyed a little humiliation in the cross-dressing sex that I'd gotten into. This wasn't the same thing. There was no plus side to this at all. It was just plain all-out awful.
That was when one of the police officers came in and told me i could go. I still wasn't thinking straight so i can't have asked very lucid questions about what was happening. She took me to a sergeant, who gave me back the car keys, phone and change i had handed in. Minutes later I walked out through the front door.
I had thought about asking for a lift back to my car but I think I just wanted to get out of there before somebody realised I shouldn't be allowed to leave. I was stood in a dark, rainy town (fortunately, this meant nobody around). I was wandering about, trying to work out how to find my car without encountering people. I was getting some shocked stares from the few pedestrians and some cars even slowed to take a look. It was a ridiculously long time before i realised my phone had the sat nav instructions to my car and an awful 20 minute walk, hardly daring to look up from my phone. When I got back to my car I started the engine, pulled away and cried all through the drive home.
I have no idea what happened that night and why I didn't get charged. For longer than six months I got a sick feeling every time a letter landed on my mat. My reasoning was that once I'd been processed in the station, it couldn't just go away. Could it? I have never understood what happened. Was it always just a scare tactic, in which case it worked, I've never done it again. Were they just having a busy night and cut their losses - I can't believe that once i was recorded, I could just disappear. Is there even a record of me being there?Will it show up at job searches? Did they fuck up the way they processed it and just let me loose because they wouldn't be able to prosecute? I don't know, but whatever it was it surely just about saved me from a complete breakdown
For nearly a year i didn't so much as look at a pair of knickers in a shop. Eventually though I had to go back to it because that is what I am deep down. I travel both ways as a man now. I never even wear panties under jeans in public. But once I'm in their house I will let my inner slut out to play again. Before I change back I love to take a look at myself in the mirror. I love to see smeared lipstick, or holed stockings where big men's hands have used me roughly, carpet burns on my knees (on my nose one time where he'd pushed my face into the floor as he used me) and the beginnings of a creeping soreness around my damaged hole.
I am typing this on a Sunday night while waiting for an answer on being used tonight. He likes to tear a hole in my panties and have me keep them on while fucks me. He knows just how to do it to girls like me. I have a hard on.
