Latest Forum Posts:


Who is Bella? - Part One

Velda struggles to know if her boyfriend is what she really wants

It all started after a couple of week’s dating. I was nineteen at the time, and Velda was twenty-four. I knew she had strong opinions and was quite determined to get her way. She had spoken several times about women’s rights and how she felt that the balance of power between men and women had to change. For the most part, I could only agree with her. At times she seemed a little aggressive with her arguments, but in general, she was a sweet, beautiful girl and quite a tigress in bed. With her pretty doe-like brown eyes and her wavy shoulder-length black hair, not to mention a gorgeous curvy body with ample breasts, she was my goddess.


We had rented a cabin for the weekend in the foothills of Mount Verud. I hadn’t realised how much colder it would be than back home. The thick fog had caused us to turn on the car heating, and the cabin’s wood stove was off when we arrived. We were both feeling very chilly. I spent the first half hour stoking the fire to warm ourselves.

“Let’s go to bed,” said Velda, “We can cuddle up to keep warm.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that, and by her smile, I thought there was a good chance of some action.


We went into the bedroom and started to get ready for bed.

“Damn,” I exclaimed, “I forgot to pack my PJ’s.”

“Let me see if I can find something,” she replied, “I think I have something for you.”

I was expecting her to give me an oversized t-shirt, which would have probably been mine anyway, and a pair of baggy shorts. Velda had a habit of taking my clothes for her own comfort. She often curled up in front of the TV wearing my grey tracksuit. When she showed me what she proposed I wear, I blushed and stammered.

“You must be kidding!” I said.

She was holding up a white cotton Victorian-style long-sleeved nightdress, decorated with white silk bows and embroidered with white cotton ruffled edges. It couldn’t have been more girly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, “It’s only us, and it’s the best thing I can suggest.”

“But, it’s ridiculous,” I continued, “It’s for girls.”

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous,” she darted back, “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid, it’s just that, well, I don’t know.”

“Just put it on. It’s not going to bite you.”


I went into the bathroom to get washed and brush my teeth, after which I undressed and gingerly slipped the nightdress over my head. A wave of elation swept through my body when I saw myself in the mirror. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and it was accompanied by my throbbing cock standing fully erect. I had no idea why I was feeling that way, although I vaguely knew it was something to do with the nightdress and seeing myself as a girl. It was a revelation, the discovery of something I’d probably repressed due to my fear of expressing any feminine traits. There I was, looking at myself in a new light, feeling the soft cotton falling delicately over my body and being incredibly sexually excited by the experience.

I spent several minutes trying to put the thoughts out of my head. I didn’t want to go back into the bedroom with a huge stiffy. That would have been too weird. So, I sat on the toilet for a few minutes until the swelling went down.


“You took ages,” said Velda, “What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing,” I replied, feeling sheepish about standing in front of her, wearing her nightdress.

“That nightie suits you,” she snorted, “Get into bed and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

While Velda went off to the bathroom, I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. I felt exhausted after the long drive, but I was still looking forward to cuddling up with her and potentially having sex. Instead, I fell asleep within a couple of minutes.


When I woke up, the covers had been pulled back, the nightie was pulled up around my waist, and Velda was gently sucking on my cock. Even though I felt a bit groggy, looking down at the white cotton and lace and feeling Velda’s lips on my shaft made me blow. She sucked every last drop out of me, looking me straight in the eye. It wasn’t the first time I’d woken up to a blowjob, but it was definitely the best so far. I knew that the nightdress had been influential, but I still wasn’t sure why.

“Well, I guess that puts an end to it,” she stated, wiping the remaining cum from her lip with her finger.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “I couldn’t hold back.”

“You’ll make it up to me,” she said, “I’ll make sure of that.”

It was the first time I’d heard speak that way. On the surface, it could have been a casual remark, but there was something in her tone and body language which made me feel that there was more to it.


During the day we walked through the forest, enjoying the mountain air. There were hardly any tourists around at that time of year. We stopped by Lake Verud, taking pictures of the beautiful scenery, or rather, I took the pictures. Velda was mostly quiet which was quite disturbing. I felt sure that it was something to do with what had happened that morning. I didn’t want to broach the subject in case it ruined the day, even though the atmosphere already felt dark enough.

In the evening over dinner, Velda finally broke her silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, “I’m not sure if this is going to work.”

“Why not?” I replied, “Is it something I did?”

“No. It’s more about me and my past.” She said.

“What about your past?” I asked.

“Well, it’s a long story. I don’t know exactly how to explain it. I used to be a dominatrix.”

“A dominatrix?” I repeated, stunned.

“Yes. I used to have a business where men would come to be humiliated and treated badly. They would pay me good money to call them pigs, tie them up and stick my stilettos into their balls while they begged to fuck me.”

“Did they fuck you?” I asked, wondering why this conversation hadn’t come up previously.

“No, they were mostly married men looking for a thrill before they went home to screw their wives, missionary-style and without much emotion. The unmarried ones would go find a quick fuck at a bar, visit a prostitute, or tug themselves off at home.

“Wow,” I said, astounded that at only twenty-four years old she had lived such a life, “But how does this affect us?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out,” she said, “I’m not sure. I’ve given up that scene, and I thought I was done with all guys until you came along. There’s something different about you.”

“I hope we can solve any issues,” I replied, “I’m really into you, and I want to make it work.”

“Let’s see,” she said, rather solemnly.


The following morning we headed back home. The atmosphere felt a bit lighter while we commented on the scenery, but there were still lots of questions floating around my head. I tried to imagine Velda as a dominatrix. That wasn’t too hard. After all, she did have the right temperament to boss people around and certainly wasn’t shy about giving her opinion. I imagined her in a black leather costume with thigh-high boots and a whip. It fitted her image, even though I wasn’t into that kind of thing. However, she said that she had left that all behind and had practically given up on men, so what was she looking for in me? I decided I’d have to leave it a while and see how things evolved. We’d only been together for a couple of weeks, and hopefully, we could work together to solve any potential problems and move on.

It was when we were less than ten minutes away from home that Velda turned to a more serious conversation.

“What was going through your head on Saturday morning?” She started.

“You mean when you were…” I answered.

“Giving you a blowjob,” she said factually, “Yes.”

“It was fantastic,” I replied, “I loved it.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that you could have still pleasured me with your hand or your tongue? Just because you had already come off didn’t prevent you from reciprocating the gesture?”

“I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly.

She was right. It hadn’t occurred to me that I could have given her more attention. Selfishly I had felt that once I had cum, that was the goal achieved. I felt ashamed at being told off for my misdemeanour.

“Well, next time, if there is a next time, I want you to think about it.” She concluded.

I dropped Velda off at her place and headed back to mine. I had a bad feeling that after her moodiness and what she’d said over the weekend, she might decide to cut off our relationship. I tried calling her for a couple of days, but she wasn’t answering her phone. I didn’t want to seem desperate, so I only called a few times and left just one message asking how she was doing and hoping that we could see each other again.


Velda called on Wednesday, suggesting we go to a Chinese restaurant. I was thrilled to hear from her. She explained that she’d been helping her mother with some tidying around the house and that she hadn’t had the time to return my message. She seemed in good spirits, and indeed, during the meal, there were no more references to the weekend’s unfortunate events.

At the end of the evening, she suggested that we go back to her place. I gladly followed, where we had a couple more glasses of wine before getting ready for bed.

“I bought this for you,” she said quietly, pointing at the bed, “I hope you like it.”

I was taken aback by what I saw. She had laid out a full-length pastel blue chiffon nightgown with pink ribbons running through the collar and wristbands. My first thought was that she wanted me to see her wearing it.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, “I can’t wait to see it on you.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for you.” She replied.

“But why?” I asked.

“Because I could see how much you enjoyed wearing the white one.” She answered.

“It was just for the cold,” I gulped.

“We both know there was more to it than the cold,” she continued, “I could see you trying to hide your excitement when you got into bed. In the morning, when you exploded into my mouth, it was clear to me that you enjoyed wearing my pretty nightie. Now you have one of your own.”

She had my head spinning around. One the one hand, I hadn’t thought that wearing her nightie once would lead to this, and on the other, I remembered what had happened to me in the bathroom and felt excited about trying it again. Still, it went against my feelings as a man. This wasn’t supposed to be. It was an aberration.

“I really appreciate it,” I started, “But it’s not right. I mean, out of necessity it was OK. Out of habit, it’s just strange. Why would a man want to wear a nightie?”

“Have you thought about me?” Velda asked sternly, “Remember what I told you about being selfish?”

“I’m really sorry,” I said, “Do you want me to wear it?”

“Yes,” she replied, “And the panties too. You should wear both.”

It wasn’t much for her to ask, I thought. After all, I hadn’t been very well behaved, and if that’s all it took to keep her happy, then I could live with it for now. Generally, she was very good-natured and easy to get along with. It was just the odd, quirky moment that caused me some concern. I decided that I could live with it until things might get too weird.

Velda reached under the nightdress and produced a pair of pastel blue silk panties. She held them up in front of her and turned them around, as though checking them for suitability.

“These should fit you nicely,” she said, “I spent quite some time finding you these pretty things.”

I went to the bathroom, washed up and got changed. Just as the first time, once I’d slipped on the nightie a feeling of tingling ripples ran up and down my body. My cock shot up, hard as a rock. I looked in the mirror and saw a girl looking back at me. I was sexually excited beyond belief and yet feeling very vulnerable at the same time. Anyone could have done just about anything sexual to me, and I would have loved it. I wanted to be taken. I wanted to be dominated.

I put on the panties, tucking my throbbing shaft to one side. The feel of the silk sliding across my knob was exhilarating. This time, however, instead of waiting for my cock to go flaccid, I walked out into the bedroom.

Velda was standing there, dressed in only a sheer black cami top with black polka dots, and matching black panties.

“How do you feel?” she asked, approaching me and putting her arms around me.

My dick was pressing hard against the panties, through her nylon top, and rubbing against her belly. She obviously knew I was excited because she moved her tummy side to side teasingly while looking straight at me. I looked back at her, drowning in the pools of her brown eyes.

“I feel a little weird,” I said, “But it’s also very pleasant.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she replied, “If you want to. I have some ideas. For now, I want you to lick my pussy.”

Velda sat on the bed and flopped backwards, removing her knickers and splaying her legs. She had the cutest shaved pussy I have ever seen, with beautiful pink lips just dying to be licked. I ran my tongue gently up and down until she started moaning softly. I loved the taste of her juices, savouring them as I felt her clit stiffening. Little trickles were coming from inside her while I built up momentum.

One of the things that excited me most about Velda was that she was a gusher. When she came, she would squirt like a geyser. There was no knowing how much there would be but it would always be exciting. The sight of her writhing around on the bed, her pelvic muscles contracting and releasing, creating an orgasmic spray, was phenomenal. Sometimes she became so orgasmic that she would close her thighs around my head to try to prevent me from licking more.

True to her form, a couple of minutes later she released her load on my face and all over the bed, screaming with joy as I lapped up her juices and swallowed them as fast as I could.

“Fuck me, Bella,” she cried.

In the heat of the moment, I wasn’t going to ask her who the heck was Bella. I figured it was probably a female friend of hers. We had discussed her having had a few lesbian experiences in the past.

She pushed herself up onto the bed, lying on her back. I straddled over her, pulled up the nightie, released my shaft from the panties and penetrated her. She looked up at me with tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. I rocked gently back and forth for a few moments, sliding my knob deeper and deeper inside her until I couldn’t penetrate her any further. I held my throbbing knob inside her, swelling against her insides. I could feel every fold of her pussy clinging tightly to my rod as she burst into tears.

I held her head in my hands and kissed her firmly on the lips while thrusting myself into her as far as I could. She screamed for a moment, and then I felt her juices flowing once again as she had another orgasm. The feeling of her contractions set me off. I couldn’t hold out any longer. I pumped my full load inside her.

I lay beside her, exhausted, holding her in my arms. We were both breathing heavily but slowly, about to fall asleep. A final thought came to me just before we dozed off.

“Who is Bella?” I asked.

“You are,” she replied.




This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © © 2018 Lars Kaiden. All rights reserved.

To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">Who is Bella? - Part One</a>

Comments (12)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.