Cross-dressing is a very important part of my life. I have learned that it is healthy for me to pamper my feminine feelings and to indulge the needs of that unique person inside me. After a few years of dressing in public as a teen, I have grown accustomed to going out to my favourite alternative nightclubs. I very much enjoy being dressed up as the pretty, sexy-looking club girl that I so love to be every Friday and Saturday night. Having a private apartment while attending college has enabled me to be everything that I always wanted to be.

Now after completing my sophomore year, I was pleasantly surprised to be offered a summer exchange scholarship to study overseas at King’s College in London. I knew it was an academic opportunity that I could not allow to pass up. My only problem was that I had lived the last two years - while in college, being able to enjoy my feminine alter-ego Cari every weekend. Hoping to continue my lifestyle, I immediately went to work to see if I could succeed in going to London. Most importantly, I needed to include my ability to still be my personally necessary - weekend feminine self.

Suddenly, I had some of the most important research to do that I had ever done! I worked hard at my appearance, and being only five foot five inches tall is my first personal gift. My second was the hard work to become a trim one-hundred and twenty-eight pounds. Thirdly, I have grown out my blonde hair to shoulder length. As a guy, I look male, but I have been told I can be absolutely stunning in make-up. When dressed as a female, my appearance is very important to me.

I did know in advance about a couple of things about London. I knew it was transgender-friendly. I knew there were clubs and venues that were famous for girls like me. I just needed to see if I could balance studies and weekend life like I had for my first two years as a college student. I was going to find a way, and I was determined!

I had already heard about London’s 'Wayout Club,' one of the most famous transgender venues in the world. I soon learned on the internet that there were many other clubs and places in the city that I could potentially visit. A check of the London area maps showed I could get to a few of these places via a reasonable cab ride. It seemed that I had at least had a potentially affordable, workable plan!

With this new information, I was soon packing myself a second special bag filled with my favorite four dresses, two sets of high heels, make-up hair extensions and makeup. I was ready for an adventure that I was fully willing to embrace! I suppose that I had courage far beyond my youth. At age sixteen, I had dared to venture out in public dressed as a girl for the first time. A year later, I became an almost full-time weekend female when I entered college at age seventeen.

A Drag performing friend helped me with ideas for traveling with my feminine things. She gave me a business card that was for a group that did drag shows for charity. It was the perfect cover, not nefarious but, in a sense, honest. My travels to Montreal taught me to be truthful and candid about who I am - Especially when it came to the contents of my luggage! I am no longer overtly nervous about going through security or over the border!

I arrived in London in June. The flight was good, and the weather was unusually warm. I loved the intimacy and amazing history of the campus. My peers were from all over the world! My two main classes met on Mondays through Thursdays. Kings College is located on the Thames River and in central London. It is literally within access of a number of potential places that I could visit as Cari. That first Thursday evening, rather than join my classmates, I did a little reconnaissance. I found a seedy but trans-friendly pub club near enough to the college that I could possibly walk to. My plans would hopefully come together.

I decided I would try to visit this club the next night! An unfortunate reality is that in the sexy delicate five-inch-high sandal heels that I liked to wear, walking to this pub could be a challenge. Being summer, the college was quieter, and I had been given my own small but private dormitory room. There is always a difficulty, however, in what I call the escape as a crossdresser. I would have to walk as my female persona through half of the campus in overtly sexy high heels. I just needed to get to the busy streets that I needed to follow to get to the pub/nightclub I wanted to visit.

Fortunately, I fit into petite size three and four dresses believably well. I’ve trained my waist down to twenty-seven inches sleeping in corsets four nights a week. My blonde hair extensions and skillful make-up help contribute greatly to my realistically female appearance. My slim, petite body is overtly feminine – as it is always completely smooth shaven. It is also sensually perfumed for my special dressing occasions.

I was excited, and it took me much longer than normal to get ready. Being a stickler for detail, I colored my long fingernails and even my toes in a stunning, matching, bright burgundy red nail polish. To gain confidence, I am meticulous and use every make-up skill that I know. After all, I was in a foreign country, and for the first time outside of North America, I was going out as Cari. In spite of my still technically being a teenager, I have learned how to pass quite capably as a woman over the last two years. Perhaps I was more confident than I should have been, but I am also driven by mysterious needs and desires to be feminine whenever I can. I was very motivated to be Cari and to go out on the town!

It was about eight on Friday night and still light. I carefully began my walk to the mysterious new club. I had to go down a full ornate flight of stairs. Then I went right out of the front door of the dormitory dressed like a sexy call-girl. My long blonde hair and tight-fitting knee-length light white raincoat did help hide and subdue the very tight, skimpy and attention getting skin tight, white mini dress that I was wearing beneath.

I found myself taking deep breaths so as not to be too hurried or panicky. Soon, I found the loud echoing sound of my five-inch sandal-style heels clicking on the smooth stone stairwell and hardwood floors to be very attention-getting. I tried to convince myself that I knew how to be stealthy enough to succeed at this. I moved onward femininely and subtly in my heels and soon found myself walking outside.

Once I got onto the campus walkways, I became more confident. I felt a high in suddenly feeling self-assured and buoyant. I was being my heartfelt feminine self. I so loved to walk in high heels. I looked down at my pretty, bright red painted toenails exposed by my open-front sandal-like heels. It made me quiver in delight, looking so sexy and feminine. Excitedly, I began a less-than-subtle sway to my hips. I was being suggestive in a feminine manner without being too over the top. Two years of dressing in public as a teen gave me much more believability and poise as a woman than most gurls my age!

It was an interesting but fortunately mostly uneventful ten-minute walk to the club—or pub, as the English folks say. A cool breeze came off the Thames River behind me as I walked in the direction of Covington, not far from the college. Arriving at the gay and lesbian-friendly pub, I went in the front door cautiously. It was dark and a bit dreary looking inside.

I let my eyes adjust and saw many empty seats at the bar. It was early, and I seated myself right in the very middle of the long, ornate, wooden-topped bar. Fortunately, I was never approached for identification or age validation. For some reason, I had always been assumed to be old enough to drink in Boston, even though I was still a bit over a year from my twenty-first birthday! I did have a fake ID, but I almost never had occasion to have to use it.

As I looked around, I saw several men drinking. I also saw two other women there nearby. One was standing talking to a man, and I read her to be a transvestite like myself. Seeing her settled the butterflies in my stomach immediately. The dark-haired gurl was standing, talking to a man. She noticed me and I caught a quick smile from her. She was wearing a short, attractive little black dress. Though she was almost six feet tall in her high heels, she looked remarkably feminine because of her slim stature. I, too, felt fortunate to have this characteristic. I was often told I was assumed to be a real and complete woman.

I decided I could now safely remove my coat as the bartender approached. I placed my coat on the adjoining barstool, exposing my smooth, youthful skin and my white spandex, tight-fitting, rather naughty, micro mini skirt. Often, this action seemed to draw immediate attention for me. I like to call this little white dress flirty. My girl-friends in Boston preferred the term slutty! This dress was always a hit it seemed, wherever I went. Like what often happened in Boston, in less than a minute the beer I ordered was being paid for by a man asking if he could sit next to me!

Two years of dressing provocatively in sexy mini skirts and dresses had taught me a lot about flirtation and being attractive. I knew the look I had was alluring. I was a classic pretty little blonde babe in a skin-revealing little white colored tight fitting mini dress. This was part of a formula that, for me - seemed to work quite well to entice! I have over two dozen dresses and this one is a favorite. My sexiness often drew me the admiration I enjoyed. I loved being admired and told how pretty or sexy that I looked. I was certainly hoping to gain some attention!

Perhaps it was more by design than luck. I had a man buying me a drink and at my side in but a minute of my arrival at this place. After two years of growth and personal discovery, I was no longer afraid of men. I was able to discern rather quickly – the difference between a good and a not-so-good man. In my early years, I dressed up to look pretty for myself. Now my motives had expanded exponentially. I could most definitely feel comfortable in the company of a quality guy. I knew that sometimes – I was dressing up to look pretty – even perhaps rather purposefully, to attract men to my side!

I had difficulty at first understanding what the man who bought me the drink was saying. The loud music and the background noise were not as much of the issue as was his accent. I was having trouble with understanding him. I also had similar issues in my classes at first. So many expressions the English used seemed foreign to me. Soon he made it clear to me that he was asking me to go home with him. He was offering me money to do it! It was not the first time, nor would it be the last time this has ever happened to me.

This was, ironically, not something I expected at all. I had naively simply hoped to make a few friends in the transgender community. I really did not have any particular plan but I do truly love going out as Cari. I began dressing in the beginning in the belief that I was heterosexual. Perhaps it was inevitable, but I have since had more than just a few moments where I have given in to a man’s wants and desires for me. I have reveled in such sensuality in my short past, but going off with a man as a prostitute was hardly in my personal plans, in spite of the apparent generosity of his offer.

His hand wandered onto my quite exposed and stocking-covered thighs. I swooned a bit at first but I immediately placed my hand over his as if to signal for him to cool down. I’ve had this happen more times than I care to admit in the past. Such behavior was rarely welcomed. I’ve enjoyed a man’s touch before but have always hated overly forward, thoughtless guys like this. Many men apparently feel transgender women are slutty or can easily be bought.

I clearly didn’t have good instinctual feelings about him either, as he seemed awkward, a bit drunk and not in complete control of himself. He kept calling me “Miss Girly Girl”, and I was not sure that he was even aware that I was not all woman. Even in this alternative lifestyles type pub, he assumed I was female. Being passive as a feminine lady was not my best choice now. My choices and situation were now being limited by his forwardness, and I had to act soon!

Sometimes, a girl has to push a man away, and I began to literally have to do that physically. I got a little help from an aware bartender who called him by his name and told him to back off. A girl appreciates a rescue and a shining knight when necessary! I’d leave the thoughtful, aware bartender a good tip later—even though I never had to buy another drink!

With the man finally moving away and on, I took a couple of sips of my beer and surveyed the place again. It was much larger than it appeared from the outside and had some kind of basement area that was, I assumed, an overflow area if things got busy. I saw a poster on the wall advertising certain kinds of fetish parties that happened here on weekend nights. It got my interest as I must admit to liking the atmosphere that fetish parties can bring.

I was soon greeted again. This time, the man who approached was wise and kept his distance. He was careful, as he seemed acutely aware of how I had just been approached. He apologized to me for the man’s behavior, as he had obviously watched what had happened. I demurred and smiled back at him. I kindly said that he wasn’t responsible for the other guy’s actions, but I appreciated his sensitivity.

This gentleman was older, perhaps in his forties, and had greying dark hair. He was tall, polite and quite handsome. I had what a gurl might call good feelings about him right away. Appearances help, but I have done well to trust my personal radar. I have only made a couple of minor mistakes in my judgements of people in the past. When he offered me a drink, I accepted, though I wasn’t about to down beer after beer while almost poured into my tiny, body-hugging, white flirty dress.

I am very obsessed with my body and my appearance. My desire for perfection is a good but almost an excessive trait of mine. I am vain and love my reflection…. I am also proud of how well people speak of my appearance. I didn’t even want my flat stomach to expose even the smallest bulge from the beer!

He introduced himself. I found Alex easy to talk with. He was funny and couldn’t believe that I was a lot of things. He was quite surprised that I was American. He could not believe that I was a guy as well! He assumed that I was a woman or at least a fully transitioned woman. I even had to explain to him how my special, uplifting wire bra gave me just the appearance of real breasts in my low-cut spaghetti-strapped dress.

I did enjoy hearing Alex’s flattery. I do hear a lot of complimentary things from men, but I always take it with a grain of salt, as they say. I know how guys always want to find their way into a girl’s panties! I tell people that I am all guy because I don’t want to be caught trying to fool anyone. That is the perfect way to get a girl in trouble! There are many stories in my home town of Boston that have even fatal results when men were surprised. Vigilance, honesty and awareness is very necessary as a transvestite!

I soon found Alex’s smooth style and dry sense of humor rather charming. I told him about my being here for a summer research project, and he seemed pretty impressed! He had visited Boston and Cambridge, where I went to school. He told me how much he liked the area. He said he loved my appearance and that I was beautiful. He was also very funny and had a quick wit. I was finding myself to be somewhat drawn to him. My mind began to race a bit about where this all could possibly lead.

I knew that I sure wasn’t going to take a man back to my dorm room. King’s College had a quite conservative reputation, and I laughed to myself about what the people on my floor might think of hearing naughty research-related studying taking place in my little room! I also didn’t have sex with just anyone. I was wary, particular, experienced enough, and saved my naughty, slutty moments for the right man and for the right circumstances!

It wasn’t long, though, before I realized that Alex was probably the kind of guy that I had always had a vulnerability for. My weakness was my susceptibility to older, refined, confident, yet sensitive guys. I loved a man who understood how to thoughtfully treat a lady. Alex sure seemed to be my kind of guy, twice my age and twice my size and quietly self-assured. There was a lot I seemed to like about him. As hot and as overtly sexy as I might have looked, I was still a bit old-fashioned, however - in my heart!

Alex deftly turned our conversation to personal likes and dislikes. I felt comfortable with his questions and his sharing of thoughts as he eased into a discussion about sexuality. He got me to admit that I did enjoy the role of woman in the bedroom. I also spilt to him that I had a natural sense of feminine submissiveness with the right guy. I was a bit shocked at my very personal confession, but he made me feel so comfortable about my honesty for some reason!

Alex smiled broadly at my admission. He unhesitatingly explained that he was a dominant - but kind type of guy. I must admit we both immediately laughed out loud. I think we both liked how he qualified his definition of being dominant! I liked his declaration and his personal disclosure, perhaps as much as he enjoyed mine!

Alex had perhaps sensed and hit on another of my vulnerabilities. The most intense and remarkable sexual experience of my life was with a man who was dominant in style and in his actions. There was so much clarity and fit in the brief but intense relationship that I had with him. He was able to bring out a submissiveness in me that I never knew about - or at least had never dared to admit to myself. If he hadn’t been married, I truly wonder how far or extreme beyond role-playing our relationship may have developed.

Now I was looking a similar, very attractive man in the eye - and spilling my guts about how much I could enjoy the role of pleaser in the right relationship! Now my honesty had caused his warmth and closeness to border on the intimate. I had signaled reason to allow his gentle touches to me. When his hand and fingers gently caressed my sheer stockings, I was in a completely different state of being. I felt appreciated and I was becoming flush and weak. I knew that I definitely was being quite drawn and even seduced by this man.

He told me that he lived a few minutes away in a London borough called Greenwich. Alex was a Futures Trader, which I understood was in the London financial world.

“I’d love to show you my little estate. I could see you relaxing in the garden enjoying a drink with me tomorrow! Morning!” he said sincerely and coyly. Remarkably I did not find his boldness in any way threatening. I think I had already melted and could both sense and feel his warmth and strong appreciation for me.

I almost took the bait immediately - but I first had to express my very real concerns. I told him I would be happy to join him on the condition that he could see that I get back to my dormitory – and/or handle a taxi fare for me. I was watching my budget and didn’t want to get caught in the middle of nowhere dressed as provocatively as I was!

I sensed that his response would be what it was - and he said it would be no problem. “Of course, Cari, I would be happy to do that for you,” he replied.

Alex grabbed his cell phone and called a taxi for us. I got a sense that he really was rather well off financially, and in a minute, I was in the back seat of a classic London taxi with him. As his hands caressed my sheer stockings, I shuddered in lust. Soon I was enthusiastically enjoying being kissed and held close by my handsome new British friend! I was very moved!

I was most certainly melting into the feminine bliss of being in the arms of a handsome older man, just the type of guy I liked. Alex was refined, and I found him extremely attractive. He was aware of the cabbie’s curious glances into the rearview mirror, where our wandering hands and occasional passionate kisses were getting rather steamy! To make the situation more awkward, I was feeling so lusty that finding his hardness through his pants had me smiling devilishly and winking at him. I think I would have unzipped him right there had it not been for the driver’s rearward interests!

After a few minutes of driving, Alex paused to take out his phone. We had stopped at a gate and gates opened, apparently from an application on his cell phone. I looked out the window to see a large stone home and, yes, an estate, as he had called it. The cab stopped near the front door. As I looked up, the edifice was three or four stories high, and suddenly, bright lights went on. I certainly hoped it was due to an automated lighting system! The cabbie got the car door for us, and Alex paid him. He took me by the hand like a true gentleman. I was already swooning in anticipation!

There was a single step onto a wide two-door entrance at the front. Suddenly, the door opened, and I was shocked to be greeted by a man in a dark suit. Alex introduced him. “This is Roberto, my wonderful butler,” Alex said calmly.

Roberto looked me up and down and smiled. “How do you do, madam?” he replied, smiling.

I shyly nodded to him, weakly replying with, “Good Thanks.”

Alex quickly dismissed Roberto, sensing my awkward discomfort. He soon thanked him and told him he could go home. I was amazed. Alex did indeed have an estate, and he had a butler, too!

The home was incredulous. It was like a fancy castle with numerous oriental rugs, beautiful furnishings, and a cavernous entry area. Alex removed his suit coat and helped me with my light cover-up. He placed them neatly on a chair and took my hand. I wanted to hug him, but he already had plans for me.

"Let me show you around," he said kindly as he took my hand. I felt almost naked in my shameless little tight-fitting dress and with my heels clicking on the tile floors. I felt like I was a slutty woman taking a tour of a castle!

He showed me the dining area and a table that could probably seat twenty people comfortably! He explained that the paintings on the wall were elegant, and many were oil paintings of the area around the estate. The kitchen area was for servants! It was separate and nothing like our American ones! The ovens were commercial sized and there were several small hutches and three pantries which housed food and cooking utensils. On the floor inside one of the pantries, next to a wall phone, I noticed a pair of high black heels. I pointed and asked, “Your wife’s?”

Alex laughed out loud. “The Maids. She doesn’t wear them while she cooks. She works Monday through Friday and has the weekends off. I bet you would look incredible in one of her uniforms Cari!” Alex said with a grin. I was almost breathless at the thought.

“I’d love to see them myself!” I said honestly.

With that, Alex opened a nearby closet, where at least a half dozen black, white, lace-lined uniforms were hung on hangers.

I gasped, reaching out to touch one of them. I am such a sucker for feminine and sensual outfits. A French Maid’s uniform is something I always fantasized about wearing. I had a feeling that fantasy would be more than just a fantasy. I looked Alex in the eyes. He already knew what he had discovered in me. He had read those needs in the depths of my soul.

I suddenly felt close to him. I felt comfortable and hugged him with a smile. I was game for almost anything now. He knew who I was and he liked who I was. My normally strong, even disciplined, personal walls were crumbling. I was suddenly crazed with feelings of feline need. As he kissed me, I couldn’t help but rub his crotch. He was hard and smiled back.

“Oh, my sexy one. Does my naughty little girl need a spanking?” he said, smiling broadly. Surprised, I smiled weakly and obediently took his hand.

He took my hand firmly. He walked me back into the ornate dining area and pulled out a chair from the table. I was speechless but willing to please this sexy, attractive man. He sat and signaled for me to sit in his lap. I felt so small and vulnerable yet in seconds I would be far more susceptible to this man’s wants of me. His deep kiss had me crazed with lust when suddenly he commanded me to lay over his lap! I was going to get the spanking he had suggested. I was unsure as to how to reply to him.

I complied willingly with his command. As I lay over his lap, he lifted my dress, exposing my stretchy white bikini panties. He slowly pulled them down, and I felt the warmth of his hand rubbing and caressing my exposed buttocks. “Are you ready to feel the warmth of your Daddy’s hand my little minx?” He asked quietly with his mouth near my ear.

“Yes,” I replied weakly.

“Yes, Daddy!” He replied firmly back.

Now I was clearer. “Yes, Daddy!” I said clearly while instinctually understanding that I was about to experience the sting of the hand of a sexy but dominant man on my backside.

The first spank was firm, and I squealed in surprise at the sting. “You deserve ten spanks, naughty girl! Now I want you to count along and thank me for each one!”

The next spank stung a bit more. “Ouch, I wailed, surprised at his power. One. Thank you, Daddy!" I replied. The next thwack had me squirming. I counted and thanked Daddy dutifully. Finally, after the ten stinging spanks were over, I thanked Daddy, and he bent down over me and complimented me.

"You are a very obedient little girl. I love your pretty, sexy little buns. Now they are as hot as they look! I think they will need some further attention!" He had me stand in front of him. He pulled my panties down further when my ragingly stimulated erection popped upward. My seven-plus inches pulsed, and pre-cum dripped from my urethral opening. I was suddenly embarrassed while stepping out of my panties, even though I had clearly enjoyed my little disciplinary session!

I already was thinking of Alex in Daddy terms, and his delight with my condition seemed to thrill him.

“What a good girl! I’m thinking you and I will make a great team, my sexy little Bunny!” he said with a wide smile. Daddy stood and held me. My erection was pressed between us, and his hands were rubbing my warm, sore bottom. I surged in need as he kissed me deeply. As our tongues swirled in unison, I almost cried from how moved I was. Daddy already clearly knew that his new little find was a pleaser who he could turn into a very giving and enjoyable submissive gal!

Alex was more than skilled in moving and in charming a vulnerable gurl like me. I was already crazed in lust. I wanted to feel his cock and even more, I also wanted to taste his cock. I went right to my knees and looked up at him as I fumbled for his zipper. He fortunately helped me, as my long red glued-on fingernails made zipper pulling a challenge. He undid his belt and dropped his pants to his ankles. I could clearly see the huge bulge in his underwear. I was a gurl in need. In a second, I was yanking those shorts down and exposing his amazingly huge, hard, mushroom-headed cock. I was both in luck and in lust!

Understanding Daddy types, I greedily and without hesitation took his monstrous cock head into my mouth. Daddies usually want their gurls to suck them deeply - in my limited experience. Licking and teasing are a step most Dominant men find wasteful. Being a very good gurl, I soon had two-thirds of his shaft down my throat. Not having any need for my hands, I dutifully held them behind my back as though tied or handcuffed. When I looked up at Alex’s face I tried to smile at him with my eyes. He was moaning, groaning, and breathing hard. I was happy that I was making his day.

One of my best-learned skills is making a man’s cock disappear into my mouth and throat. Alex was huge, and his eight or more inches would be far too much for the average gal. I was determined and knew that I could relax my throat to accommodate every beautiful inch of his stunning manhood. It was just a matter of time, and my desire was intensely fueled.

I love the taste of a good man’s cock. I don’t fully understand why, but my own cock, was pulsing and stiff, pointing upward, dripping with precum, and clearly reacting to my actions and enjoyment. My slim hairless body was shuddering in the feminine delight of pleasing this moaning, appreciatively erect man. As my lips found the base of his cock, my chin felt his largish balls. I suddenly felt his hands against my head. His pressing caused the last few millimeters of his monster cock to disappear into my willing mouth and throat. I had succeeded as I hoped.

Now Alex was really moved. He began to bellow loudly, using naughty yet, in my definition - flattering terms. He called me a hot bitch, a whore, and a bleeping slut in his desperate, almost orgasmic state. Even while I was struggling to breathe, I found his words to be praiseworthy and more than complimentary. His words excited me, frenzying my efforts. I was more than willing to taste and even swallow his cum. The joy of working his cock into the depths of my throat was a total turn-on for me. I was getting him closer, and I could tell he was near. Somehow in this mutual turmoil, he begged me to relent.

He lifted me and kissed me deeply. My cock strained against him in my teensy dress while I felt his hardness pressed against my flat stomach. He grabbed my well-spanked, hot bum and lifted me, placing me on the end of the long dining room table. He pushed my tiny dress to my chest and suckled my flattish, soft breasts. I moaned in passion and disbelief. Now half naked, he bent me back, spreading my legs, holding me by the ankles, with my sexy high heels pointing to the ceiling. Suddenly he found my bottom and began licking and sucking my opening.

I gasped, crazed in lust! Alex was relentlessly licking and tonguing my most personal place, and I was halfway to heaven. I am ridiculously sensitive and easily stimulated there. Soon, my high-pitched wails echoed in the huge room, heralding my joy and passion. It was my turn now, and I was in heaven. I also knew and welcomed the possibilities of what was next.

Alex continued to consume me down there like a man needing water in the desert. “Oh yes, Daddy,” I wailed repeatedly. I began to bite my lip as I was nearing orgasm. I’ve never been more thoroughly devoured in my anus, and I was being selfish enough to enjoy it for as long as I could. As much as I take joy in pleasing, sometimes a gurl just loves to be pleased herself. This was special. I was nearing orgasm!

Alex knew I was near, but he also knew what I craved. My very needy behavior eliminated the need for words. I was shaking my head side to side and moaning like a songbird when my finally new lover got down to what we both needed and wanted. Once again, he lifted my legs and forcefully moved me to the acceptance position, on my back on the table and feet spread wide. He was centering himself for entry, and I was practically begging. “Oh yes, Daddy!” escaped from my mouth shamelessly and in a high-pitched wail.

Fortunately, I no longer fear huge cocks like his. My normally cautious self was so desperate that I didn’t even consider asking him to put on a condom. I was in a desperately needy state. Alex paused and, as though he was reading my mind, asked me if I wanted him to get a condom. In my maddeningly wanton state, I blurted no! I was out of control. I’ve been bred before, but never by a man, I didn’t know! I was truly being a complete, naughty, needy, shameless slut, waiving away all personal sensibilities.

He pressed his huge, thick, pre-cum dripping monster forward. He began to spread my insides as I gasped and whined in shock and discomfort. I did not want him to stop, and when he thoughtfully paused for my reaction, I egged him onward. “Oh Yes, Daddy!” I squealed. “Oh Yes!” In moments, he was finding my deepest places, and tears of joy began to run down my impeccably made-up face.

Alex was every bit of a man that a gurl could ever hope for. Each thrust into my depths was measured, firm and moving beyond words. Being so thoroughly invaded by a truly masculine cock is spiritual to me. Nothing makes me feel more wanted, loved or feminine. His pace soon quickened, and his pelvis began to spank and smack against my already reddened derrière. This was just so overwhelming in intensity; that feeling of being so thoroughly skewered and the pain and pleasure of being so filled beyond what I can describe in words.

I can only try to describe how natural, how intense, and how otherworldly it felt to be penetrated so deeply and so skillfully. My body responded in a completely unconscious, hungry response, meeting each thrust as I arched my back and body in unison to his frenetic pace of thrusting. I was relishing every moment of my surrender. I encouraged him in breathless pants of, “Oh Yes, Daddy!” after “Oh Yes, Daddy!” The wails were out of control and desperate. I wanted his orgasm. I wanted to feel him release deep inside me.

Daddy knew how moved I was. He kissed me, meeting my lips as he continued to pound my insides. A gurl cannot feel more wanted, needed, or appreciated. His swirling tongue inside my mouth just added to my frenzy. He knew I was near, and he was too. Soon, his frenetic thrusting reached another blur-like level. I could only groan and wail in ecstasy and disbelief. “Fill me, Daddy! Fill me!” I shrieked. In but a few moments, his tremors began.

In my depths, I felt the incredulous feeling of his warm liquid heat spurting inside me. Daddy’s grunts and groans filled the room, echoing from the walls and ceiling. I was flattered beyond madness as jet after jet of his genetic fluids filled me. I was so moved that I, too, began to quiver and quake. I was beginning my orgasm, and the intensity was like a lightning strike.

The heat and warmth of powerful orgasmic waves began deep inside me. It rapidly spread throughout my entire shivering and shaking body. I was writhing in the joy of these powerfully intense pleasure waves. The electric-like waves and orgasmic quakes went on for many moments before I felt a very gentle kiss. I opened my eyes, suddenly aware that I had passed out for a short moment! My contented smile lets an enquiring and concerned Alex know that I am very all right!

Our little affair was far from over. In fact, it was just the beginning. Alex, who I would now refer to as my new Daddy, would take me all around London. We would enjoy dinner, drinks, clubs and many, many nights together in his home and bedroom. My six weeks studying abroad would be successful with two A’s in my classes. Even more, was in being able to indulge my personal extra credit that I earned for being the girl that I so love to be!