Sunday, June 03, 2007

Fantasy: Litérature Vérité

The fantasy had taken hold, and wouldn't let go.  It was the usual scenarios, all mixed together.  I was refining the back story over and over again, getting more and more excited as I circled around the denouement, coming closer and closer each time, from different angles. 

I was captured by a bunch of evil girls who were forcing me to wear a bikini... or a one-piece swimsuit... or they had captured me long ago, and forced me to wear all kinds of other things, trying to feminize me, but I was resisting... Yes... but by now, I knew that I was close to my breaking point... No, I was well past my breaking point, and they had me right where they wanted: begging them to wear a one-piece bathing suit... Yes, I beg them, but they refuse... I've worn so much other stuff by now, over the course of my captivity, that I've even begun to turn girlish, but they never let me wear a bathing suit... Yes, and I absolutely must wear it, I'm obsessed with it... They know that I'm not ready for it, that it will utterly destroy what's left of my manhood, and they want to drag this on forever... Or maybe they know that it will set back my feminization, while I want desperately, but secretly, to accelerate it... yes, it's a trick: they want me to prove just how badly I want to be a girl, so they contrive to have me steal it...

My fantasy settles on the one-piece swimsuit.  I shake loose of my reverie just enough to consciously reach my secret spot, between my bed and the wall, for my stash of girlie things.  I rummage around, and pause after touching each item, trying to guess in the dark what I'm fondling, each time considering for a moment whether or not I'd rather wear that instead, and alter my fantasy accordingly.

Hmmm, my black bustier... lingerie is always fun, but I really can't get that image of Heidi Klum in her swimsuit out of my mind.  I want to feel like that... How about my pink string bikini?  That's pretty fun.  But not as fun, oddly enough, as my silver bikini... oh, how I love the bra on that one... but no, the fantasy is about a one-piece.  Yeah, that's right... I don't like these little cotton panties... ah, here it is!

I pull it out as quietly as possible, and put it down under the sheets beside me.  I strip out of my shorts, thinking for a moment of keeping my shirt on.  There's always something sexy about having girlie stuff on under my boy clothes, like it's an admission that I might look like a man on the outside, but on the inside, I'm utterly feminine.  But even stronger is the idea of abandoning all connection to male attire, and succumbing completely to women's.  I pull off my shirt, and remain naked for no longer than it takes to figure out where the front of my bathing suit is.  I'm such a sissy that I can expertly get dressed in women's underthings in the dark.  The suit slides into place, and I slip my arms into the straps.  I adjust the suit so that it sits right on my body.  I tweak my nipple briefly, fantasizing about the cups of my swimsuit being properly filled.  I let the mist of my imagination thicken back around me, and delve headlong back into my fantasy.

I'm still reworking the back story, although now I'm at the climax.  I'm wearing a one-piece suit, and it's outrageously feminine, and I'm resisting letting it overtake me too fast.  I'm on my stomach now, gently humping my balled-up shorts, savouring every long stroke.  As I fondle my hips and my waist, I imagine myself standing up, in my fantasy scenario, wearing a swimsuit, looking every bit as feminine as Heidi Klum, fondling myself exactly as I am in my bed.  The soft, tight, feminine fabric rubs and stretches on my enormous cock.  In my mind, my cock shrinks away to nothingness, as I fully and wilfully succumb to irresistible womanhood.  My captors catch me red-handed, and I show them how proud I am of defying them.  No, wait... the fantasy shifts again... I am not caught, but I am secretly far more effeminated than they know.  I am in a store full of women's swimwear and lingerie, and I strut around in my new body, scouting out what I'm going to wear next.  What could I possibly wear that could top this in feminine sexiness?  My mind drifts to lingerie, and I imagine myself selecting a nice pair of lacy bikini panties and a matching bra, trying them on...

My cock rubs vigorously against my balled-up shorts.  It's ecstasy.  I'm wearing a women's one-piece swimsuit, very high-cut and tight, and I become conscious that I'm already looking forward to wearing something even sexier.  I'm such a fucking sissy!  I love it!  This realization amplifies my pleasure tenfold.  I'm longing for sexy lingerie that I don't even possess!  My massive erect penis, awash in extraordinary pleasure, is somehow blotted out in my mind, replaced by a soft, fleshy cunt.  Flashes of fucking cross my mind, and I am the girl!  I rub harder and harder, treading dangerously close to the point of no return.  I don't want to come!  I want this to go on forever!  I imagine myself a slutty little bitch, fucking and sucking cock, and loving every second of it!  Every time I come close to coming, I slow down, break the rhythm just enough, and continue.

At last, I can no longer resist the lure of such massive pleasure, and I pass the point of no return.  I do this consciously, and my fantasy dissolves a bit as I prepare for the imminent mess.  The pleasure is phenomenal.  It takes my breath away.  My hand darts into the suit through one of the leg holes, and I cup it next to my dick's head, and pump a huge quantity of semen into it, to the point of overflowing.  My legs shake with the intensity of it.  The remaining mist of fantasy quickly disperses, and I find myself short of breath on my stomach, wearing a smelly blue girlie swimsuit, with a huge mess of giz in my hand, afraid to move for fear of spilling it all over my bedsheets.  I have to be careful as I roll onto my back, and keep the swimsuit from touching the goo on my belly.

I reach for the nearby box of kleenex with my left hand.  This is very tricky.  Over time, it's inevitable: a growing yellowish stain grows on the belly of my swimsuit.  I used to come right into it, heedless of the mess I made.  But now I realize that I need to be more discreet, and more respectful of these wonderful items of clothing.  They are like magical relics, which I must be careful to avoid defiling with my disgusting manhood.  They are pristine vessels of femininity.  Meanwhile, I carefully slide out of my swimsuit, after wiping as much away as I could from my right hand and belly.  At some point I have no choice but to allow the swimsuit to touch a bit of semen.  I clean the rest of the mess, put my shorts back on, and tuck the object of my sin back into its hiding place, a little bit ashamed and disgusted with myself, yet luxuriating in afterglow, the fantasy fulfilled as best as I can.

If I really spent some time developing my fantasy, I sometimes find myself fantasizing about how girlish and sissy I've been, and find myself doing it all over again, usually with some other article of clothing, only with not nearly as much pleasure.  Then I fall asleep exhausted.

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