More Firsts for Mark: Part 6

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I spent my Monday at work dreaming about the crazy weekend. I was constantly turned on and I struggled to conceal my erection. The gay guys grew more bold with me, Michael in particular. He was a tall slim guy in his late twenties, always fashionably and impeccably dressed, gay from a mile away but not because of any silly mannerisms, you could just tell. A lot of the women ogled him but he wasn’t a switch-hitter, at least not according to the gossip. He had longish light-brown hair that a girl would envy for its texture and natural sheen. It framed an effeminate face — a very pretty face, actually.

“Hey Mark, like the eyes! What have you been up to this weekend?”

He was alluding to my eye-liner and eye-shadow, which I carefully applied every morning as Robin commanded. Good thing he didn’t see my hairless bod. Or the nipple clamps under my Oxford shirt.

“Just hanging out with some friends.”

Michael grinned.

“They must be fun. You know, I can be fun too.”

I ignored him and he waited for me to tell him to leave me in peace — jocularly, as I blushed.

I made a point to do some shopping at lunch-time for panties. I thought I should have a little variety.

So I headed over to Victoria’s Secret and selected a dozen — different colours, some frilly, some so skimpy as to be almost nothing, some sheer — and each time I handled a garment a small thrill coursed through me. I think Robin would have approved, and I wanted to surprise her. I thought for a few moments about a bra, but I was too big in the shoulders and chest and it would have looked ridiculous. The clamps were a better idea instead.

Besides, I had no intention of becoming a girly girl. I liked the phrase Cheryl used, which was right on the mark: man-girl. Even if I wanted to go down that route my body was simply too manly and athletic — unlike Michael’s, which was willowy and feminine and which, combined with his fine facial features and pretty face, could have had many straight male admirers mistaking him for a woman in the right setting.

He passed by my office in the afternoon again and spied my shopping bag.

“Oh, what have we here? Are they for one of your new friends… or for yourself?”

“Hey, Michael, that’s outta line, I’m your boss! And I’m definitely not gay, so get that straight, okay?”

“Let’s see, should I get it straight that you’re not gay but that you’re bi? I’m confused. Not long ago you were Brooks Brothers and then overnight you’re wearing funky mules and eye-shadow. What else are you wearing?”

I shooed him away. In truth, I liked him, and as he ribbed me I wondered what it would be like to give him a kiss on his pretty little lips. But I caught myself — gay wasn’t my thing at all, Robin was my goddess. Then again, everything had become so confusing. Sucking Robin’s cock and being fucked by her wasn’t being gay, I told myself. Besides, I fucked Cheryl like a champion, even if she

referred to me as a sissy.

I nearly lost track of my work assignment so I closed my door, the better to get my head together and concentrate. Fortunately I got back on track and finished my tasks, though I’d had to stay later than usual.

Michael cruised by my office as I was leaving. He didn’t ordinarily stay a minute after 5 PM.

“Hey, Mark,” he said, “I’m sorry about the jokes, I was just kidding you earlier. Are we cool?”

“Sure, Michael, I’ve just been a bit distracted. But it’s all good, I’m all good. How about you? You’re hanging around later than usual.”

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended you. And I realized that we’ve worked together innovia escort for two years and I know almost nothing about you, except that you’re a good guy and a great boss, and you’re the last person I’d want to offend. Why don’t you come over to mine for a coffee? I live just around the corner and I’ve got nothing pressing to do tonight. Got some great music too, if you’re into jazz.”

He gave me a half-smile and inclined his pretty head to one side, which showed his haircut to full advantage. Not sure how to describe except to say that it was parted on the left and the hair that fell forward and to the right fell over his ear, sexy as hell. I gazed at his full and slightly parted lips — they seemed so damned kissable!

I thought for a moment.

“What the hell, why not? I appreciate your kindness, Michael.”

“Super. Don’t forget your shopping bag,” he said, nearly with a wink.

He lived quite literally around the corner, in a fancy high-rise building with lots of window and a mesmerising view of the river.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mark.”

The pad was spacious and immaculate, its walls covered with very interesting paintings. His lounge boasted a large black leather modernist sofa with matching armchairs. The kitchen had a lot of marble counter space… and then there was the music he’d just turned on, a nice fifties or sixties jazz quartet. He bustled about a bit in the kitchen and brought over two glasses of chilled white wine.

“What happened to the coffee?”

“Oh, that’s later, I save the best for last,” he said.

We clinked glasses for a toast — to chilling out. The wine was delicious, and given what I had already surmised about the pad, I bet it was outrageously expensive. I began to feel relaxed. Michael had taken off his jacket — he tended to dress in fine European suits — and kicked off his shoes, folded one leg beneath him on the sofa while the other rested on the floor. The way he sat had the effect of slightly opening his crotch, where I could already see a serious bulge.

I turned my head away quickly and took another sip of wine.

“What’s this new Mark I see?” he asked.

I shrugged. I really didn’t want to get into anything and I certainly wasn’t ready to tell an employee that I had serendipitously discovered a ravishing shemale who had thoroughly made me her bitch.

“Michael,” I said, “nothing’s really new, I just feel like I’ve gotta loosen up a bit, that’s all. My new friend suggested the shoes and the eyes, and I went along with her.”

“Good taste,” he said. “What did you get her? C’mon, let’s take a peek.”

I chuckled to myself and tossed the Victoria’s Secret bag over to him, and he fetched and displayed each piece of underwear, complimenting me for my selection.

“Very very sexy,” he said, “except I don’t think you’re levelling with me, Mark. Wait, let me give you a refill.”

He poured another two glasses of his marvellous wine and continued.

“You see, wouldn’t a guy ordinarily buy a lingerie ensemble for his girl, you know, panties and bra? All you’ve got here are panties.”

Michael took a nice long sip from his glass.

“I think these are for yourself.”

I must have blushed while trying to push out a rejoinder.

“I’m sure they are,” he said. “In fact, I bet you’re wearing a pair right now. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mark, I like wearing them too. I’m not afraid to show my feminine side, that’s just who I am.”

I finished off my glass and gazed out towards the river.

“Do you mind if I have another?”

“Certainly ipsala escort not,” Michael replied, refilling our glasses. “That’s what it’s for: in vino veritas! I’ll show you.”

Michael rose from the sofa again and began to undress, with no sign of embarrassment, slowly and casually. He did indeed have a girly figure, due mainly to a pelvic curve that made his nice ass jut out. His skin was smooth, his two nipples were erect, and his blue lace panties were exquisite, beneath which bulged a thick circumcised cock straining at its flimsy restraint. I simply gazed at this adorable being before me with its flat rippled stomach and marvellously beautiful cock. His legs were slender and strong as as lovely as the legs of a woman.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said huskily.

I shed my clothes, a bit more clumsily than Michael because I was nervous, and I stood facing him. He got a good view of my nipple clamps as well as my knickers, as the English would say. I wondered if he could sense the faint aroma of Robin’s pee on them. I was certain my body-waxing had impressed him.

“Wow, Mark, you look incredible.”

Without a second’s hesitation he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the lips. I offered no resistance. I kissed him back. Damn, he was cute, he was pretty, he was girly. His lips were soft and welcoming and wet. I kissed his neck and licked his ears and let my hands caress his back, his shoulders, his butt, his chest. I inhaled an intoxicating scent, part subtle perfume, part Michael, and I couldn’t get enough of it and his skin and his sweet body. He arched himself and I took his hard nipples into my mouth. I sucked on them and made swirls with my tongue and kissed them ravenously. He didn’t have girl breasts at all: he had the chest of a fit beautiful young guy and the grace of a ballerina. I wondered if he’d been a dancer, given how he carried himself and an innate lissome grace of movement.

“Fuck, Mark, that feels so good,” he sighed.

And then… And then I did the unthinkable. I fell to my knees and, gazing up at him, I told him I wanted his cock. His eyes smouldered as I slid his panties down to his ankles. His cock was as big as mine, a good eight inches, and thick like mine as well. It was smooth and pure and beautiful and glorious, and I took my time with it, teasing the tip, giving butterfly kisses across the head, slurping along its shaft and, finally, taking his length into my practised throat.

“That’s it, baby, suck me, oh my, it feels incredible, take it all like a good little bitch.”

There was that word again: it made me shiver with pleasure. I was a bitch, even to a gay man like Michael who despite his effeminacy knew how to assert control. He clutched my hair and face-fucked me with fervour.

“Yes, you’re a good little cocksucking bitch, aren’t you? I knew it, I knew what a slut you were. Keep sucking, sissy.”

Michael came like a fountain, shivering and shuddering, and his cum seeped from the corners of my mouth and he coated my face with further spurts from his magnificent ivory cock. I licked every last drop. Then he brought his pretty girly lips down to mine and drew me back to the sofa and we made out like teenagers. I tugged on his lips with my teeth and even bit them, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I sucked on it gleefully, and then covered his neck and chest again with further kisses before returning to his lips. I stroked his hair and his cheeks and he devilishly tweaked my nipples as my hard cock desperately yearned for release.

He broke off only after a good hot twenty minutes. I iskenderun escort could have kissed him forever. I wanted this ravishing girly guy to take me, to fuck me deep and hard while kissing me again and again with his lovely pretty mouth. I wanted to lie back and lift my legs and spread myself and watch this gorgeously effeminate guy push his big hard cock into my willing ass.

“I’d love to fuck that gorgeous ass of yours,” he said, as if reading my thoughts, “but I’ve shot my wad and I’m done for the night. But I want you to get off… in a special kind of way. Lie on the couch.”

I complied, and he brought a few pillows over, which he placed under my neck and my butt, and removed my nipple clamps. Then he grabbed my ankles and brought my legs up and behind my head, so that my hard cock hung over my face.

“Suck yourself, sissy.”

He leaned his weight on my legs and I stuck out my tongue and touched the tip of my own cock. And then he pressed with greater force so that the head of my cock reached my mouth. I began to kiss and suck myself for the very first time. I had to catch my breath every so often but Michael made sure to bring me back into position, so that I eventually was able to take nearly the whole of my member inside. It was amazing to feel and taste and suck myself like that. I was holding my ankles to keep my cock pressed against my face and Mark guided it in. The pleasure of pleasuring myself outweighed the mild physical discomfort of having to bend. Mark rocked me, pushing my cock further in, and then he suddenly thrust two fingers into my ass, making me groan with pleasure and cum copiously in one tremendous release.

“That was so fucking hot,” Michael said as I unwound myself. His cock had stiffened again and in his excitement he pulled me towards it, spreading my legs, just as I had wished, and resting his shaft along the cleft of my ass.

“Tell me you want it, sissy boy,” he said, with his girly mouth.

“I want it, baby, I want it, fuck me, fuck my ass, fuck me as hard as you can, fuck your sissy!”

He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and thrust his cock into my ass while he stroked my legs and butt, and he rode me and fucked me with his fetching feminine body and his thick long hard cock until he came again, massively, inside me.

Then he reattached my clamps, pulled me by their chain over to his soaked and gleaming member, and just like Robin he made sure I licked the juices of my ass off his cock and savoured the taste of his commingled cum. I was dizzy with a kind of endlessly submissive lust. Soft jazz played in the background, a serenely ironic accompaniment to the frenzied degradation I so willingly brought upon myself.

My first guy cock, my first gay experience, my first self-suck. I was learning how to appreciate the fine qualities of the texture of cum and the subtle differences in taste and how it felt bathing my tongue and nestling in my mouth after a load and streaming down my throat.

And still I didn’t have enough.

Before I left I again dropped to my knees and took Michael’s wonderful tool in my mouth, I kissed it everywhere, I licked his balls, and then he got another idea. He turned around, bent slightly over, and pulled my face into his ass. I kissed his anus the way I had kissed his mouth, I rimmed it with my tongue and sucked on it and used my firm tongue like a soft probe.

Michael sighed and told me over and over what a dirty little fucking sissy slut I was, which only drove me crazier with the wish to be further debased, humiliated, and abused. I loved it and craved it and couldn’t believe how this had all come out of the blue for Michael, for a gay man who had just turned me into a gay man, at least for the night.

“We’ll save coffee for next time, Mark,” Michael grinned. “Make no mistake, sissy, there will definitely be a next time. And soon.”

What had I become, what was I becoming? What would Robin say?

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