Gay sex erotica of wild time with a crossdresser
Gay sex erotica: He checked the message again. “Meet me in the janitor’s room at 4 ‘o’clock.” He paced the small room anxiously. Buckets and brooms were littered haphazardly on the floor, and there were shelves filled with cleaning products and detergents.
Smith checked his phone. No new messages. He walked to the far end of the room to peer through the dusty windows. Motorcycles rode past the college gates, roaring and thundering down the road.
The door hinges creaked suddenly and Smith started, knocking over a broomstick that rested against the wall. The room was dark and dusty but Smith recognized the man who stood opposite him nevertheless. The man who has been taunting him for the past one week on social media.
“So… Smitha was a Smith all along,” said Murali, fastening the door bolt and swaggering forward.
Smith paced forward. “No, there’s been a mistake. I’m not a…” he stopped as Murali showed him a photo. Where did he get that? He was always careful never to show his face when he posted pictures of himself in short dresses online — under the name Smitha Crossy. So when Murali showed a picture of Smith in black lingerie, he was dumbfounded.
“I browsed your gallery when you went for dance practice,” said Murali grinning, and a realization hit Smith like a bucket of water. “Remember when you left your phone on the desk?”
Smith felt his body trembling. Rage surged through him and he heard his teeth gritting. He still didn’t have the nerve to hit Murali though. He was wider than him with meaty arms and the thick rounded shoulders of a lumberjack. “Who gave you the permission to…”
“As I was scrolling through those pictures, you can understand my shock,” He sped up his words, riding over Smith’s objection like a man who hasn’t got a lot of time to waste. “When it dawned on me that the cock-thirsty tranny who was flaunting her butt on Insta was my classmate… the sexy Smitha was actually sissy Smith.” He tittered, covering his protruding teeth with his phone. “I copied all those pictures of you on to my phone.”
Smith raised one hand in defense. “Murali, please… no one can know about this. It was just for fun. It… it was just a fantasy of mine, nothing more.”
“I have tried to contact Smitha Crossy a million times on Insta. She never replied.”
“I don’t reply to anyone. It’s not just you.”
“You did reply though… when I finally figured out Smitha’s real identity.” He said brandishing his phone again. “What will your friends say I wonder? Or do they already know that you’re a crossdresser?”
“It has to remain a secret. Please!” It was all Smith could do to not cry.
“Relax your dumb sissy. Would I be talking to you if I wanted everyone to see this?” Smith breathed a small sigh of relief. Murali pocketed his phone and moved closer. “Of course… you’d have to make some concessions if you want me to keep quiet.”
Smith felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Murali started rubbing his crotch – probably thinking that he wasn’t being explicit enough. He froze where he stood, his mind inundated with panic like a deer in headlights.
“You do me this small favor and I’ll guarantee my silence.”
Smith had never done any of this before. He didn’t even know if he liked men as much as his tranny avatar let on. It was the attention he craved for and the euphoria associated with dressing up as a sexy girl. Of course, he always talked a big game on Instagram – how he loved to suck cocks and ride them — but he had never really done anything in real life.
His blackmailer continued rubbing his crotch and there was a slight bulge in his pants now. Smith stared at it, gripping his shirt tightly at his chest.
“Kneel now. We don’t have a lot of time left.”
Smith wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and knelt on the sandstone floor. The squat man loomed above him with a sardonic grin on his face, his lanky hair covering his eyes like a curtain. “Take it out,” he said, a command delivered with a gravelly voice.
He looked down and gulped. He unzipped Murali’s pants and slipped his hands inside to pull down his trunks. His cock popped out instantly, it’s head hot to the touch as it grazed his fingers. Smith never imagined that he would hold a real cock in his hand — other than his own — and yet here he was.
If he had to describe Murali’s cock in one word, he would say that it looked like a mouse. It had more girth than length — like its owner – and it was narrower at the tip.
“You can admire it some other time. Now start sucking!”
Smith nodded timidly and stuck his tongue out. He heard a soft moan from above when he licked the pee hole. He didn’t even start and the bastard is already moaning. His tongue left a slight sheen as it circled its way around the tip, the musky smell pervading the air as he pulled the skin back. Making a perfect O with his mouth, Smith took every inch of the fat cock inside his mouth. He looked up for a brief second and saw the idiot’s eyes were closed.
Smith started moving his head back and forth, sucking and working his tongue at the same time. The pubic hair was a menace, tickling his nose and entering his mouth like creeper vines. It felt disgusting at first, but he quickly got used to it. A hand caressed his head, and rough fingers pulled at his hair slightly.
I feel like a slut. Murali started pushing his cock in slow short thrusts, almost unwittingly. Smith had to adjust his rhythm, to suck in the brute’s cock as he thrust forward. The pace increased and hairy balls slapped against his chin as saliva dribbled to the floor.
A loud grunt came from the Murali and Smith felt the cock throb in his mouth. “Hold still for me now,” he said, holding Smith’s head firmly between his hands, after which he started savagely face-fucking him. “Ahhh shit! Your mouth is awesome!”
Smith no longer had control, and he could no longer breathe.
The sissy looked up at him with sad eyes. The deed was over. Smith’s face was covered in gooey ropes of cum, some around his eyebrows, dripping now and then to his cheeks.
He threw a handkerchief at Smith. “Clean yourself up you sissy,” he said in a commanding tone. Be dominant and she’ll always be your slut. “HE… NOT SHE GODDAMNIT,” he cursed loudly, throwing his hands up in disbelief. What is wrong with me? I don’t want him to be my slut. God, I need help.
“What?” asked Smith, cleaning cum off his hair.
“Get the fuck outta here before the janitor comes faggot,” he said and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Never again. I’ll never let a guy suck my cock. But damn… it felt good.
Murali went to bed that Friday thinking about Smith. Thinking about those long eyelashes and those plump pink lips. He started looking at him in that light only recently after he found out that he was a cross-dresser. And now, he wondered how he failed to notice that nice round ass all this time. His cock stirred in his pants and that disgusted him. I’m having sexual thoughts about a guy! What is wrong with me?
He didn’t bother Smith on Monday. Murali had to make himself believe that he was no longer attracted to him. Blackmailing him for a blowjob was just a spur of the moment thing. He just wanted to know what it felt like to have someone suck you off. Everyone experiments and does stupid things.
So, on Monday, his eyes were on Jisha. The only ‘real girl’ in their first-year mechanical engineering class. All the guys were after her, even their seniors, and today he was going to ask her out. I’ll ask her out and I’ll never have to doubt my sexual orientation ever again.
Murali waited in the bus stand by the front gates. His hair was oiled smoothly and neatly combed sideways. He tucked in his shirt and had a couple of tic tacs to make sure his breath smelled good. The bus stand was crowded with students and teachers alike. Buses came and went but the crowd remained the same.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone peeping at him. It was Smith, his arms wrapped around an advanced calculus textbook that he held to his chest. When Murali turned in his direction, he looked away. Seems like she wants more of my big fat cock.
“He, not she, you dumb motherfucker,” he whispered to himself.
“What?” said a voice beside him. He turned to find Jisha, looking at him worriedly.
“Oh Jisha… when did you… I didn’t see… how long have you been standing there?”
“A while. Were you talking to yourself?”
“No… I was waiting for you actually,” he said, scratching his head.
“Let me guess. Another proposal,” she said, her eyes fixed on a bus that just turned a corner up the street.
“How did you know?”
“What does it matter? Anyway… I’m not interested.”
“But, why?” he asked, immediately feeling put out.
She didn’t even spare him another look. Murali watched her hopping aboard the bus that stopped in front of them. How could she be so insensitive? He looked around embarrassed. Fortunately, no one seems to have witnessed their interaction.
The sissy was still there, casting glances in his direction now and then. Smith’s cum-bathed face crossed his mind again and he jerked backward trying to shake the memories out of his mind.
The next day was torture. When he saw Jisha on the school corridors, she looked at him with indifference, like she didn’t even know him. I am just one of the many guys who fooled himself in front of her. However, she did stop to talk to Smith.
The sissy was coming in the other way and they both met in front of the classroom. Murali saw her returning a notebook and saying something that made Smith laugh. He’s gonna make love with your daddy before he makes love with you, he mused.
Gay sex erotica of sexy and slutty CD’s face fuck
A heavy hand clutched his shoulder and Murali turned to find his senior Cedric standing beside him. Cedric was in his third year of mechanical engineering and the entire school knew that he had his eyes on Jisha. She never reciprocated his feelings but that’s something all the boys had in common.
“Who is that scrawny piece of shit?” Cedric asked, pointing in Smith’s direction.
“That’s Smith Thomas. He’s in our batch.”
“He’s getting close to Jisha,” said Cedric, slurring like a drug addict.
“I’m sure they’re just friends Cedric. Nothing to be concerned about.”
“Friends huh?” And just like that he left, walking down the corridor, his gaze fixed on Smith — who still stood in the doorway talking to Jisha — until he passed the classroom.
Tired of wasting his time daydreaming about a girl who didn’t give a damn about him, his mind wandered to the taboo realm. Murali sat two rows behind Smith, who sat to his right, and from there he was admiring his feminine features. What he found weird about his body was that he was slender above his waist, but his ass was so round and voluptuous… like a woman’s.
Does it make me gay if I fantasize about a man? Hmm… fuck it. This time, he didn’t restrain his thoughts. He allowed his fantasies free rein.
I have to make him blow me again.
“Meet me in the janitor’s room at 4 ‘o’clock,” he texted him.
