"There's a small matter that requires your attention, Mr. Wilson," the airport screener said in heavily accented English. My stomach churned. These were never good words to hear while clearing customs. "It shouldn't take long to clear up. Right this way, please." He directed me to an unmarked door with a security keypad on the wall.

My travel habits had changed considerably since 9-11. Knowing how closely all luggage was screened, what I packed for my trips had diminished and was more carefully thought out. That was really why I preferred driving to my destinations whenever possible—my bags were always safely in my possession. International travel, however, remained a pain and though my job didn't require a lot of it, longer trips always heightened my temptation. With this one being three weeks long, I had given in to that temptation in a big way this trip.

He led me down a drab and dimly lit hall. There were signs beside some of the doorways, but since I didn't read Arabic, they did me little good. "Here, please," he said again, indicating a half-open door on the left. When I pushed open the door my worst fears were realized. Two uniformed men stood behind a long narrow table. My bags were open and the contents were spread out all over. One pile nearest the door was the immediate focus of my attention, and no doubt theirs, too; it was a pile of multicolored satin and lace lingerie with a few sex toys placed prominently on top. The door closed behind me as a third uniformed man stood up behind a desk in the corner.

"We have a small problem, Mr. Wilson," the uniformed man behind the desk said. "Please, have a seat." As I moved woodenly to the offered chair, I could feel my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. One of the other men unceremoniously deposited the collection of lingerie and sex toys on the desk between us.

"We have purity laws in my country, Mr. Wilson," he began. "Men who come here with the intention of defiling our women are not welcome."

"I never..." I started to say, but was interrupted.

"There can be no other explanation!" he continued. "Why else would a businessman travel with such things?"

"Y- y- you see," I stammered, "It must have been my wife...." My voice trailed off, the hollow excuse dying in my throat.

"One or two things, tucked away in a side pocket, perhaps, Mr. Wilson; but a quantity such as this? Not plausible."

"Well, she probably did it as a joke, hoping something like this would happen to embarrass me... " I tried again. He snapped his fingers and the same guy who brought the lingerie over deposited a zip-loc bag of makeup and a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes.

"Again," he said, "not plausible. Who were you planning to meet? Who is the contact that is setting you up with one of our women? These are serious charges."

"No," I said again. I could feel a lump forming in my throat. "I would never...." I was either going to be in a lot of trouble or have to tell the truth. I opted for the truth.

"They're mine," I said softly.

"What?"

"I said they're mine," I croaked a little louder. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

"Again, Mr. Wilson, not plausible."

"It's true," I said. "I like to wear women's lingerie. I'm a crossdresser."

"Then what," he asked as he held up one of the sex toys, "is this for?" It was my Doc Johnson medium Pleasure Plug. It was about four inches long and had a realistic look and feel. At its widest point just below the pink circumcised head, it was about one and a quarter inches wide.

"It's a butt plug," I said matter-of-factly. He said something in Arabic to the one who had brought my things to the desk, who replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"So you use this," he made a motion with it, "up 'there?' " I felt my face flush again.

"Yes." More Arabic passed between the two men, with the third interjecting something.

"And this," he held up another larger toy, "is the same thing?" It was my other Doc Johnson toy, the Thick Tool. It was nearly eight inches long and two inches wide with a well-defined head and bulging veins.

"Well, I use one to loosen myself up and the other," I pointed to the toys smallest to largest, "to pleasure myself with."

"So you are a homosexual? Gay?"

"No, more like, well, bi-sexual, I guess. I've never really tried to classify myself." Again, more Arabic.

"So, when you are dressed in this," he hoisted a fistful of lingerie, "you like to be treated like a girl?"

"Yes, sometimes," I answered. A more lengthy discussion in Arabic ensued, with all three of them speaking in turns, but with the "boss" carrying most of the conversation. It got a little loud for a bit and then the boss had the final word.

"An all-too-convenient and convincing story, Mr. Wilson. My two associates here were easily swayed by your well-prepared and obviously well-rehearsed fabrication. I need to know who your contact is. Who are you meeting with to set up your meetings with our women?"

"What?" I said, incredulous. "After I bare my innermost embarrassing secrets to three complete strangers you think it was all made up; a cover story?"

"Exactly. Your denial makes me even more sure. You are going to tell me the truth or you are going to be in a lot of trouble. Our prisons are not nice places for Americans."

"You want proof?" I asked, now desperate. He raised an eyebrow.

"Proof? What do you mean?"

"I mean proof. In my country when we call someone's bluff, we say 'prove it.' I'll prove I'm not lying." Another long discussion between the three followed. This time it appeared to be a much more lively debate. When it ended the third man crossed the room to the door and slid a heavy metal bar in place with an ominous grating sound, barring the door from outside intrusion. My eye was drawn to the slight bulge in the front of his uniform pants. The supervisor stood up.

"Prove it," he said.

"Just what did you have in mind?" I asked. Any other time I normally wear panties and would have been happy to just stand up and reveal them, but for trips such as this, I avoided it.

"The burden of proof here lies with the accused," he said matter-of-factly. He gestured to a hospital screen in the corner. "Prove it." His intent was fairly clear; he wanted me to put on some of the lingerie.

I quickly picked through the jumble of satin and lace selecting a few specific items, liberating a pair of stockings, and grabbing the high heels before heading for the corner. Once again I could feel the burning flush of my embarrassment, this time coupled with a racing pulse of excitement.

Behind the screen, I quickly stripped out of my mundane clothes. I started with the bra, a black and pink number that was my current favorite. Foiled pin-dot mesh over the "Bombshell Pink" satin gave it an exotic look and the underwire cups were accented with rhinestones and had a black satin bow nestled between them. I fastened it behind my back with practiced ease despite my trembling hands.

The panties came next. They were a bikini-style front with black lace over the same pink satin accented with a small black bow centered on the waistband. The back, however, was a spectacularly sexy caged back with a wide black satin bow accent right where my ass crack began. The caged back not only showed off my sexy ass, it also provided easy access to both my ass and cock, as the panties were also crotchless. My hands were trembling less, but I could feel my cock getting harder as the cool satin slipped up my legs and nestled my smooth shaved balls.

I reached into the toes of the shoes and pulled out my breast forms. They weren't proper breast forms; rather they were breast "enhancers." I had bought them in queen size (a little private joke?) so they filled my bra out nicely. I chose this specific pair because they were 100% silicon so they felt and moved like real breasts. They also had well-formed nipples with brown areole that looked great in sheer bras. They were shaped so that they could be adhered with tape, but I didn't have time for such niceties at the moment. I tucked the forms into my bra, cupping and bouncing them a few times to make sure they were situated for maximum effect.

The matching garter belt, the same foiled pin-dot mesh over bombshell pink as the bra, followed. Only the immediate front panel was pink, the side panels were done in dotted sheer black mesh. A band of black satin topped the two-inch wide ruffle of the same dotted black mesh that circled the belt. Black satin ribbons, the same size as the one on the bra, trimmed both ends of the garter straps.

I separated the lace-topped RHT seamed stockings, rolling them up my legs with an experienced hand and fastening them to the garters. I checked to make sure my seams were straight, making adjustments as best I could without the benefit of a mirror, and then stepped into the black patent leather high heels. They were Dorsey style with a 1/4-inch ankle strap. By the time I finished all of this, my cock was quite stiff. I briefly considered attempting to tuck it, but I had already decided they needed to see me in my cross-dressed glory, bulge and all.

My heels clicked erotically on the tile floor as I walked to the edge of the screen. The sound of my heels set off a low murmuring in Arabic that slowly faded as I paused to peek around the screen. The "boss" had moved around to the front of his desk but was sitting on the corner next to the pile of my remaining things. The remaining two were on opposite sides of the narrow metal table that held my other open bags. They were looking expectantly in the direction of the screen. I saw one of the two adjusting himself.

I took a small measure of courage from their uncertainty, took a deep cleansing breath, put on my best sassy face, and strutted out from behind the curtain. I walked over and stood in front of the boss, my right hand on my outthrust hip.

"Well," I said, "satisfied?"

"Satisfied that you know how to put on women's clothing, yes. Assured that your story is accurate, no."

My mind boggled. I thought the speed with which I affected my transformation would have been proof enough. I realized my mouth was hanging open in surprise and closed it.

"What then?" I said, more than a little deflated. He nodded down at the remaining items on the desk. It suddenly dawned on me what he wanted—the dirty bugger wanted to see me using the sex toys on myself!

I opened my makeup bag and took out the small bottle of Astroglide. If he wanted a sex show, I was going to give him one. I pulled out the tube of Kate Spade New York's Pucker Up, in sexy "Adventure Red," and applied a quick and generous coat to my pursed lips just for good measure.

I picked up the Pleasure Plug first. With its ultra-realistic look and feel, it would certainly make my point. I turned and perched on the opposite corner of the desk from the boss, looking directly into the eyes of the guy with the biggest bulge in his pants. I licked my lips and ran my tongue up the underside of the rubber cock, circling the head when I got there. I held his gaze as I opened my mouth, flattened out my tongue, and easily slid the entire length of the butt plug into it; closing my lips around the indented base.

"Mmmmmmmm," was all I managed. I slurped loudly as I pulled it out but then slipped it right back between my lips, working the shaft in and out of my mouth. Leaving the rubber cock in my mouth I picked up the Thick Tool, which was less realistic-looking but longer and wider, and the Astroglide and walked over to the other table.

I pulled the Pleasure Plug from my mouth long enough to say, "Make some room for me here, guys?" as I gestured at the suitcases on the metal table. Each of them closed a bag, but the one with the tent in the front of his pants removed them both from the table with efficient speed.

I put the other toy and lube down as I bent over the table, reaching behind me to pull the middle string of the cage-back panties from my ass as I continued slurping noisily on the Pleasure Plug. I opened the Astroglide, squeezed some onto my fingers, and spread it liberally on my puckered hole, pushing some of it inside. I removed the plug from my mouth, squeezed more lube into my hand, and applied it to the plug, sliding my hand up and down the short shaft like I was jacking it off.

I placed the plug against my asshole and pushed. I had had this particular toy up my ass so often, I knew exactly what to expect. I savored the expected pressure as the well-formed head of the cock stretched my ass open and popped inside. That was almost my favorite feeling in the world, that first moment of penetration. I let out an almost involuntary moan.

My favorite feeling was what came next. The shaft of the Pleasure Plug was slightly wider than the head and took just that little bit of extra effort to keep going. I pushed, enjoying the extra width. Just when I reached that point of wondering just how long it really was, I felt my asshole start to close on the tapered end. I wasn't ready for it that feeling to end, so I pulled it back out and slowly inserted it again. I enjoyed each bump and bulge a few more times before finally giving it that last little push, letting my hole clamp down on the plug. I picked up the Thick Tool.

"Mmmmm, now that feels better," I said. I started licking the wide head of the other plug and then began to take it into my mouth, again making loud slurping sounds as I sucked the rubber cock. I wriggled my ass as I bent over the table, finally looking over my shoulder back at the boss.

"Seen enough," I asked, "or do you still think this is a carefully crafted story?" I thought I saw a flicker of desire cross his face just briefly. He spoke in Arabic to the other two. Both of the guys standing closest to me now had tents in the front of their pants. I turned and resumed sucking on the Thick Tool, this time alternating looking up at the closest two guys as my head bobbed up and down on it.

After a few minutes of teasing them both, I zeroed in on the one who had been fighting his hard-on since I got in the room and locked eyes with him. "This would be a lot more satisfying if it were a real cock," I said. "Do your laws prevent you from slipping your cock into my warm and willing mouth?" The man I was looking at asked a question of the boss, in Arabic, of course. I glanced over my shoulder at the boss, and he made a noncommittal gesture and answered with a short reply. Whatever had been asked and answered, I heard the zipper go down before I could even turn back around.

As I turned, my lips brushed against his hard cock which was now in front of my face. It was circumcised, which surprised me, but that didn't stop me from instinctively opening my mouth to take him inside. He groaned aloud as I closed my lips and started sucking his cock.

"It would mean certain disgrace and possibly death for a Muslim man to make use of you," the boss said, "but Haroun, as a Copt, isn't restrained by our laws."

Haroun grabbed the back of my head and pulled my mouth on and off his cock. It was a beautiful 8-9 inches long with a wide helmet-shaped head. The head and first inch or so was a bright pink that contrasted sharply against his dark skin. It glistened with my saliva as he plugged my mouth with it.

I steadied myself on one elbow as my free hand clawed at the Pleasure Plug in my ass, pulling it out and letting it drop to the floor. I plunged the Thick Tool all the way into my hungry ass with no additional lubrication, loving how full it made my ass feel. I did all of this while Haroun was still fucking my face, and I loved every depraved minute of it. I moaned loudly around the cock in my mouth.

Haroun let go of my head just long enough to drop his pants. I slurped noisily on the head of his cock before trying to get it all in my throat. I gagged and coughed as the large head hit the back of my throat. I heard another zipper and glanced at the other man still standing, riveted to the spot on my right side. I was, again, surprised to see him stroking a circumcised cock. I reached out my hand to stroke it for him, but he quickly pulled away, saying something in Arabic. He was obviously content to watch and masturbate.

"Ziyad has no desire to be made impure or to be flogged," the boss said. "He said, 'Don't touch me.' " I shrugged and returned my full attention to the cock still in my mouth.

Haroun's hands returned to my head, guiding my mouth. He had obviously decided to help me get his cock down my throat as he pulled my mouth onto his cock and pushed against the back of my throat. I gagged some more. I tried again and again and again. Finally, I decided to try a different approach.

I released Haroun's cock and stood up. The look of disappointment on his face was immediate. I hopped up on the metal table, it was not quite waist-high and lay down on my back with my head hanging off the end. A devilish smile crept over Haroun's face as he quickly grasped my intent. As he moved into position I took a deep breath and opened my mouth wide.

He plunged into my mouth, grasping both sides of my head. He hit the back of my throat and kept pushing. I gagged again, but this time I shifted my position to open my throat. He pushed past my gag reflex and buried his cock in my throat. He crowed in triumph as his balls, musky-smelling and hairy, mashed against my face with my nose between them. I felt my own cock stir in my panties as I inhaled his manly scent. I reached up and grasped his hips, pushing him back slightly. Again, he had no trouble figuring out what I wanted and started to hump my face with short strokes.

His hands moved from the sides of my head to my tits and he held on to them as his strokes lengthened and he fucked my mouth. The first few times he pulled all the way out of my throat it took some effort (and more gagging) to get his cock all the way back in, but soon we had the angle just perfect. Just as we were getting into a good rhythm, Ziyad suddenly barked something at Haroun in Arabic.

Haroun immediately pulled his cock from my mouth and shuffled back away from me. Before I had time to even realize what was happening Ziyad had moved into place before my open mouth. His hard cock was slick and glistening with pre-cum and he was stroking it quickly. Not thinking, I reached for him again, and once more he pulled away. His cock was still pointing directly at my mouth, and his strained voice said something I couldn't understand. His meaning, however, suddenly became quite clear.

I put my arms at my sides, leaving my head off the end of the table and my mouth wide open. "Aren't you the nasty one," I said, hardly believing my audacity. "You don't want to defile yourself by touching me, but you'll be happy to shoot your nasty load of cum in my mouth and all over my face."

His pace quickened. I was so close I could easily hear the squish-squish of his hand pumping his sticky cock vigorously. "C'mon, Ziyad," I urged him, "Do it! Shoot your hot nasty cum into my slutty American mouth. Jack off all over my face. Give me your hot sloppy load, Ziyad!" He began muttering something over and over, and I didn't need to know any Arabic to know what was next.

He stopped pumping his cock and grasped the base of his shaft hard. He leaned forward, his cock less than an inch from my open mouth. With a final cry, he came. Oh my God, did he come! The stream of cum was constant, punctuated by the spasms of his orgasm which resulted in even mightier spurts. It seemed more like he was pissing.

I wasn't prepared for the volume of cum he shot into my waiting mouth, nor was I in the best position to accommodate it. If I had been able to close my mouth around his cock I might have made it. As it was I swallowed as much as I could and did my best to just not drown! Cum ran out of my mouth and into my nose, causing me to choke. Cum ran around my nose and into my eyes and hair. When he finally stopped coming and stepped back one last string of cum connected my face with his cock. He gave his cock a final stroke and squeeze and the last string slapped wetly against my left cheek as it detached from his shaft.

I was a cum-covered mess! I rolled over and off the table, but immediately bent back over it, resting on my elbows and facing the boss. "Seen enough?" I asked as I wiped some of the cum from my eyes and face and licked my fingers clean. "Or maybe you need to see me really treated like a girl?" He leaned against his desk in stony silence.

Haroun stepped between us and presented his cock to me to resume sucking. I shook my head no and instead grasped his cock and pulled him toward the end of the table. He didn't need a translator to get my message. I pulled the Thick Tool from my ass, letting it fall to the floor and Haroun stepped up behind me.

I felt his rough hands grasp my hips and the head of his cock resting against my gaping hole. I handed the bottle of Astroglide behind me, keeping my eyes locked on the boss'. "Fuck me," I said to Haroun. "Fuck me like the dirty American slut that I am. Shove your big fat cock inside me and use my ass like a pussy."

As I was talking, Haroun lubed up his shaft. I reached down inside my panties and adjusted my own hard cock and balls so that they were hanging out through the open crotch. Haroun placed one hand on my waist as he lined his cock up with my eager asshole. As soon as I felt the head press between my ass cheeks I pushed back.

The butt plugs had done their job well. Haroun's cock stretched me open, but he penetrated me without a lot of difficulty. I moaned as the wide head pressed through my tight ring. I kept my eyes on the boss. "Ohhhhhh, yeah. Give it to me, Haroun. Give me all of that cock." With both hands now on my waist, Haroun drove half of his cock inside me. I moaned even more. He pulled back until I could just feel the head inside me before plunging his entire length into me.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm. I can feel your balls against mine," I said. "Fuck me with your big beautiful cock. Fuck me hard, Haroun. Fuck me!"

Haroun did fuck me then, driving his hard cock in and out of my hungry ass. He varied his pace as he fucked me, sometimes humping me with short strokes, grinding his balls against mine, and sometimes pulling completely out before ramming himself balls-deep inside of me. Mostly he just fucked me kind of regular, the rhythmic slap-slap as he plowed into me time and again echoing in the bare room, making my own cock and balls sway in time with his powerful thrusts.

As Haroun fucked me, Ziyad resumed stroking his cock and it quickly became hard once more. I encouraged both Haroun and Ziyad, urging them both to give me a hot load of cum; but I kept my eyes on the boss. I suspected the live sex show was starting to have an effect on him, and I was a little bit anxious to see how my situation would play out.

Suddenly, Haroun's pace quickened. He gripped my hips tightly, his fingernails digging into my flesh. His breathing became ragged and I knew he was close. "C'mon, baby... give it to me... Ummmm... Yeah... Give me... that big... load... of hot... cum," I said, punctuating his final thrusts.

He gave one last great push and shoved his cock as deep as it would go up my ass. With a low moan, he came. I felt the heat and wetness deep inside me as he emptied his balls. I felt his balls, pressed against mine, pulse with each spurt.

Just as he was spent and I thought he might collapse on top of me, Ziyad pulled him back and out of me by the shoulder. He stepped between my wide-splayed legs and pointed his cock at my gaping hole. I decided to coax every drop I could from him. I reached back and spread my ass.

"Still want more?" I teased. I wriggled a bit and I could feel Haroun's cum starting to ooze from my well-fucked ass. "Give me another load of your sweet cum. Shoot your load in my wide-open ass and all over my sissy cock and balls!"

Ziyad handled his cock in the exact same manner as the first time, getting as close to me as possible to shoot his load but not stroking it at the moment of orgasm. I couldn't imagine after the load he had shot in my mouth earlier that he had much left. Was I ever wrong!

He groaned, louder than the last time, as he spewed another large load. It was nothing like the first load, but it was still a lot of cum. I felt the first few mighty spurts hit in and around my asshole. The next few landed just below my ass and ran down over my balls. He continued coming and shooting all over me. When he was finally finished, my ass, asshole, and cock were dripping with a mixture of his cum and Haroun's load that was still oozing out of me.

I slumped onto the table, a satisfied sticky mess. I felt the cum from my ass continue to run down my thighs and the cum on my face had become a dried crust. I heard my two sperm donors putting themselves back together. The boss still leaned against his desk. When the other two were dressed he barked something at them, still saying nothing to me.

Haroun and Ziyad approached the table and each of them grabbed one of my arms and dragged me half-walking and half on my knees across the room. He barked another order and they deposited me at his feet and pushed hard on my shoulders so that I was on my knees in front of him. He stood up, not a tall man, but still an imposing figure from my vantage point.

"What is your name?" he asked me.

"You know my name. It's right there on my passport on your desk."

"No, what is your name?" he said, emphasizing the word "your" as he gestured to include my whole body. "As I understand it, men like you sometimes call yourself by a woman's name when you are dressed up." I was completely surprised by this sudden change of tactic.

"Stacey," I said softly, almost embarrassed. Weird how the mind works, I suddenly thought, here I am dressed in lingerie and covered in cum from the top of my head to my freshly-fucked ass, and revealing my "t-girl" name is what I find embarrassing?

He stood, silent for a moment, before reaching down and unzipping his pants. He pulled out his half-hard cock and began to stroke it, releasing his balls from their confinement as well. I was eye-level with his balls and watched, fascinated, as he jerked his circumcised cock. I opened my mouth to say something but instead was shouted down.

"Silence, Stacey!"

I knelt before him and watched him jerk himself off. As his strokes got faster and faster, his breathing got more ragged. When I thought he was just about ready to explode, I started to say something again and was again shouted down.

"Shut your mouth, Stacey!"

I stopped trying to speak but left my mouth open to receive his cum. He was close now, but again said, "Stacey, shut your mouth."

Now that I clearly understood his intention, I looked up, closing my mouth and presenting him my upturned face to deposit his load on. He seemed satisfied with my response and took himself over the edge. He handled his cock just the way Ziyad had. Just before he came, he stopped stroking and gripped the base hard.

He moaned softly as his climax began. He shot his cum all over my face. His load was certainly not as huge as Ziyad's had been, but he still covered my face pretty well. His first spurt crossed the bridge of my nose all the way up to my forehead above my right eye. His second spurt hit my right cheek and eye, causing me to shut my eyes. Spurt after spurt kept raining down on my face. I had cum over both eyes, on my cheeks, on my mouth and chin, and on my forehead by the time he was finished.

"Look at me, Stacey," he said. I opened my eyes, blinking frequently, and looked up at him through a haze of his own cum. A sudden flash went off, and I realized he had just taken my picture. I licked my lips, tasting his cum for the first time.

"What the hell..." I started to say.

"It's for your file," he said simply. "I think you have sufficiently convinced me your story is not fabricated, Mr. Wilson. You are free to go."

"File? What file?" I asked.

"To be sure you aren't improperly detained again," he said.

"You're actually going to post that picture somewhere? Stacey's picture? Somewhere with my name attached to it?"

"We are done here. You are free to go." He stood up and walked to the door. "When you have collected your things you will exit down the hallway to your left. Enjoy your stay in our country, Mr. Wilson."

The bar securing the door was released and they exited to the right, leaving me in a puddle of cum on the floor.

Fast-forward three weeks…

As I made my way through customs in the international terminal at the Atlanta airport, the screener, a young black man, scanned my passport. He looked closely at his screen.

"There's a small matter that requires your attention, Mr. Wilson," he said.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in crotchless panties made of black and pink floral lace with attached garters and a matching push-up bra. My legs, encased in seamed stockings, were over the shoulders of a young black stud who had his big black cock buried balls-deep inside me, fucking my ass missionary style on a low table. My head hung over the edge making it easy for another black stud to fill my mouth with even more black cock while I stroked two more with my free hands.

I don't know what that guy put in my file, but I am never "improperly" detained anymore.