21 September 2007

David had showered and dressed while his daughter Rachael lay sleeping and then waited impatiently for the nanny to arrive. He’d drank too much coffee and stole another two elicit cigarettes and was feeling a little high as well as anxious and preoccupied.

Who was the Quizmaster and why were they blackmailing him? Surely it had to be either Rachael, Timothy, Sandra, or Bethany; there were other students who knew about The Game but only the group of six had played it. But why wait twenty years? What did they want?

The nanny arrived promptly at ten; she was one of the many English speaking foreign students who paid to attend university in the UK, she supplemented her income nannying for Marie and David three days a week, making up any missed classes in the evening. David handed over custody of Rachael, snatched up his mobile phone and car keys and drove his Honda Civic to the address he had been directed to in the blackmail letter.

Parking was terrible in the small streets close to the university, without a resident’s permit on-street parking was not permitted anyway. This suited David; he didn’t want to park too close to his old digs. He didn’t know if the Quizmaster was watching him but more importantly he didn’t want to have to explain to Marie why he was there if some nosy-Parker told her that David had been seen near his old flat.

He found metered parking in a lot around the corner and used a shortcut through the back alleys to get to his old flat. When he arrived out from of the big Victorian house he was unsure what to do; the letter had instructed him to come to this address to find his dare but didn’t provide any further clarification. Then he saw the corner of a lavender envelope protruding from the mailbox slot for flat 12C, his old address. He looked around carefully and saw that the street around him was empty and he carefully extracted the envelope. David had trouble squeezing the envelope though the slot; it was bulky and heavy. Inside was a set of keys.

David opened the door to the bedsit that had been his home throughout his time at university. He entered the diminutive one-room bedsit comprising of a combined kitchen, lounge, and bedroom; fitted with a kitchen sink, gas burner cooktop and tiny refrigerator. A tiny ensuite bathroom had somehow been fabricated when the existing residence had been subdivided into boarding rooms; an even smaller closet-come-wardrobe beside it. It was like stepping into the past; the room was decorated exactly as it had been when David lived there. Or more correctly, when Petra lived there.

There was a small wooden dining table with two chairs set against the window, an overstuffed lounge chair and scarred, cigarette burned, coffee table in front of a TV and a CD player sitting on a small cabinet, a double bed with pink satin duvet and half a dozen throw pillows. An attempt had been made to cover the baby-shit coloured wall with iconic posters: The Bangles, Heart, Cindy Lauper, Madonna, Kate Bush, Michelle Pfeiffer, Molly Ringwald. When Petra was not ‘in residence’, the posters would be replaced by posters of Huey Lewis and the News, Prince, Tom Cruise, Sly Stallone, Arnold Schwarzennger, the Rolling Stones, and English football heroes. The duvet would be a plain black cotton coverlet; there would be no throw pillows.

For two years David had lived a double-life. To his university fellows, to his friends, to his family, to the outside world he was David: boozer, doper, struggling student, and Game player. Most evenings and on weekends, except when he was gaming, David transformed into Petra: an attractive, leggy, young woman with a penchant to dress immodestly at times.

Petra was also William’s secret lover.

The room smelled vaguely of Christian Dior’s Poison; Petra’s favourite perfume, undercut with cigarette smoke and marijuana.

David made his way over to the closet. It was filled with Petra’s clothing: some dresses, but mainly skirts and blouses and a couple of jackets. He squeezed the padded shoulders of a dark blue fitted jacket with gold buttons and smiled wanly. He opened the drawers and found an accumulation of lingerie and hosiery, the second drawer held costume jewellery and accessories, a small collection of high heels was laid out on the shoe rack. There was no male clothing. In the two years that Petra existed alongside David, David had kept his male clothing in the closet; Petra’s clothes had been secreted in two hanging clothes bags, the shoes, underwear and accessories locked in a suitcase under the bed.

He was not surprised to see Petra’s makeup laid out on the vanity in the bathroom. This too would be secreted away in the suitcase whenever David was in residence.

At first it was difficult living a double life but he soon got into a routine. Most of the time the flat looked exactly like a bachelor flat, everything unkempt, clothes tossed here and there, empty beer bottles, pizza boxes and Indian food containers piled next to the sink. When Petra was in residence the place was immaculate and feminine.

Being a loner, except for his group of game-playing friends, he didn’t have to worry about unexpected visitors. On the rare occasions that he hosted his friends or family the place looked very blokey. Most evenings Petra was in residence and the only visitor she had was William. Sweet William.

David closed the bathroom door and sat on the bed and put his head in hands.

Someone had recreated his life from twenty years ago and whoever it was seemed to know everything about his past. He suddenly felt very tired; almost exhausted. He kicked off his loafers and lay down on the bed.

He could smell Petra on the pillows; Poison perfume, her finishing powder, her shampoo. He stared at the cracked and stained ceiling and recalled what had happened when Petra and William had left The Head Office.

September 1985

Petra and William walked home like lovers; never really talking, just happy to be together. At one point William pulled Petra into an alley and kissed her passionately, holding her tight, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She had rubbed against him like a cat, lifting a leg and curling it around him. His hand found her leg and stroked her stockinged thigh.

They broke the kiss and continued home, Petra was so infatuated that she hadn’t even thought about what might happen if one of the neighbours saw her. It was unlikely anyway as it was after midnight and in any event no one would have recognised her as David.

“Well this is it. Are you sure?” Petra tuned to face William; her pretty eyes searched his.

William kissed her nose affectionately.

“Lets go up; it’s cold,” he smiled at her and then squeezed her buttock.

“Cheeky,” she smiled back at him.

Petra didn’t know what had come over her; she was behaving like a ditzy teenage girl rather than a twenty-year-old man. But David was gone; there was no David, only Petra.

She panicked a little when she realised that her keys were still at Bethany's flat but she knew that a spare key to the front door was hidden under a flowerpot. She opened the door to the terrace house and put a finger to her lips indicating for William to be quiet. He had to help her up the stairs, not so much because of the booze and the dope, but because she was still learning to walk in her high heels.

David often left the door to his flat unlocked; after all what was there to steal? He had done so tonight and Petra opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as William came inside she closed the door, spun the lock and pulled William to her. They kissed all the way to the bed in the dark.

William shucked out of his clothes while Petra turned on the bedside lamp and threw a sheer red scarf over it. It gave the room a rosy intimate glow. She lay down on the bed and watched William take off the last of clothes; his penis was erect again and stood out proudly from his thin frame.

Petra had never been with a man before; how could she? She hadn’t existed until tonight. But David knew how his girlfriends behaved and what they did to please him and that knowledge now resided inside Petra.

She held out her arms and William lay on the bed on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, relishing the feel of his hard manhood pressing against her lower belly.

Petra reached between their bodies; she wanted to feel the girth of William’s penis; it was hard and sleek in her grasp. She became tumescent herself, her own erection pushed against her skirt through her panties. She gasped when William touched her there, under her skirt.

They kissed and fondled each other languidly; in the safety of the flat there was no rush. Petra manoeuvred herself so that she was astride William; sitting on him as he lay prone. She kissed his lips, worked her way down his neck to his chest, his belly and found his penis with her mouth. She licked his turgid phallus, exploring the flesh with her tongue; the veiny shaft, the bulbous purple glans, she tickled his fraenulum knowing that it would drive him wild with desire, which it did. She took his member into her mouth and slowly sucked on it; relishing the little globules of pre-seminal fluid that she licked away and swallowed.

William moaned and held her face; gently guiding her tongue and her mouth to the sensitive places on his manhood and his scrotum. Petra took his testes in her mouth and suckled them until William lifted her face out of his groin.

“Stop or I’ll come,” he whispered.

“I want you to come darling,” Petra smiled up at him as she stroked his shaft.

William pulled her up beside him and kissed her.

“I want to come inside you,” he whispered in her ear.

Petra looked at him lovingly and nodded.

She knew what this would mean and although she had never done anything like it before, the fundamentals of the act that he wanted her to perform were obvious to her. In the dresser drawer was a tube of lubricant that David used sometimes when he bought women home. Petra took the tube of KY jelly and smeared a gobbet of it on William’s penis, working the cool viscous lubricant into his fleshy manhood with her fingers. He reached down to stop her.

“Careful of I’ll misfire,” he smiled.

Petra kissed him and while doing so she reached behind herself, inside her knickers, and placed a globule of the viscous lubricant between her buttocks on her sphincter.

Still kissing William she straddled him, her knees on the bed and her buttocks poised above his groin. William embraced her as his tongue searched her mouth. Petra hiked up her skirt and deftly reached behind herself to pull the gusset of her panties aside, exposing her sphincter.

She positioned William’s penis at the entrance to her anus and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered herself on his engorged organ until she was impaled on William’s hard cock.

Petra threw back her head and moaned like a harlot as she slowly began to ride him.

She was expecting some pain as she slid William's hard phallus inside her sphincter and pain she got; but she bit her lip and tried to relax. As more of him entered her the pain receded and metamorphosed to a feeling of fullness and then a delightful perception of tingling pleasure radiated from the tight ring of her sphincter. A deep pulsing delectable sensuality disseminated from her prostate and she positioned herself so as to guide William’s organ onto the sensitive gland.

William held her by the hips and helped guide her as she slowly started to ride him; lifting herself so that the tip of William’s penis was just inside her and then lowering herself and grinding her buttocks as she was fully impaled.

William smiled up her and she smiled down at him.

“Nice?” she asked as she rode him with slow deliberate thrusts.

He smiled up at her and nodded. She fell on him so that they could kiss while they fucked. William adjusted his hips so that she remained fully impaled on his cock as they kissed passionately.

Petra began to drive herself more vigorously up and down as the delightful feelings of rapture increased. She felt so feminine, so womanly, so wanton, and so downright lewd as she fucked her lover. She could feel the fullness of him inside her and it just felt so right, so perfect.

She wriggled her buttocks and bucked against him, driving his penis deep inside her, the deeper he probed the more wonderful it felt. They pawed at each other as they kissed and fucked; William raked her thighs, laddering her stockings with his enthusiasm and then returned his hands to her hips so that he could drive himself upward and deep inside her.

The front of Petra’s panties was soaked with pre-ejaculate; she was close to orgasm and sensed that William was too.

She broke the kiss and threw back her head; pushing down on William’s chest with her palms and rutted on top of him and then pressed her buttocks down hard into his groin as she ejaculated into her knickers. William squeezed her hips and pushed her down on him as he emptied himself deep in her anus; his cock pulsing as jets of hot semen filled her tight passage.

They both howled with pleasure and Petra fell forward smashing her lips against his as she writhed and wriggled astride him, impaled by his erupting manhood. They clung to each other and rode their orgasms to a precipice and then slowly came down together.

She lay on top of him panting, trying to regulate her breathing. William held her close as his penis slowly drained the last of his issue and deflated inside Petra. When she felt him fall out of her anus, Petra slid her panties back into place, feeling a little of him leak from her as she did.

They lay side by side, not speaking, just kissing and touching until William once again became engorged and this time she lay underneath him, just like a woman, as he made love to her, kissing and caressing her throughout. They climaxed together again and then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When Petra awoke the next morning William was gone and she had to deal with the awful practicalities of the previous night. Her knickers were soaked with semen and other bodily fluids that made her look away and wrinkle her nose; she would soon come to realise the importance of douching. Her stockings were laddered beyond repair and the clothes she had borrowed from Bethany were rumpled, stained and smelled of sex.

She was hungover and morose; she couldn’t believe that she had given herself over to such wonton lasciviousness simply because she was dressed as girl. And with her best friend; who she no idea how she could ever face again.

She put all of the blame, guilt and regret on herself, laying no blame on William, as she stripped off her clothes, washed off her makeup and showered away all evidence of ever being Petra. But when David looked at himself in the mirror he could see the bite marks on his neck, the scratches on his hips and shoulders, and the imprints of Williams fingers on his thighs and buttocks.

He washed out the knickers in the sink and hung them to dry alongside the bra and suspender belt and then dressed in jeans and a shirt and stook the blouse and skirt to the dry cleaner on the corner, paying in advance for a same day service.

Later that afternoon he went around to Bethany’s hoping that she would be out and he could just leave the clothing on her door but she was home and insisted on hearing how the evening had panned out.

“More of the same really; guys kept coming onto me and I kept repelling them. It got boring and repetitive,” David lied.

“Well I have to say you looked absolutely gorgeous as Petra; so feminie and downright sexy. I’m a little jealous,” Bethany kidded him.

“Anyway thinks for bringing back my clothes and stuff, you didn’t have to do so straight away. Can I offer you a bevy?” Bethany made her way over to the sideboard where a few cans of lager a cask of wine sat.

David felt his gore rise at the prospect of drinking.

“No thanks Rache; I’ll just take my clothes and keys and fuck off,” David got up out of the armchair.

“Well at least let me fix that for you,” Bethany looked down at David’s hands.

He was so preoccupied and hungover that he didn’t realise that he was still wearing nailpolish. Bethany sat him back down and went to work with nailpolish remover while David tried not to gag on the acetone fumes.

21 September 2007

David’s phone beeped bringing him out of reverie. It was a text from Marie reminding him that she wouldn’t be home for dinner and that he would need to feed their baby Rachael prior to putting her down for the night. David texted a response and put his flip-phone down on the nightstand and was about to get up off the bed when he saw the envelope tucked under the pillow beside him.

He tore it open and read the typed black text on the lavender paper.

‘Petra,

I much prefer the conventions of our time at university, conversing by letter, but modern technology is wonderful and essential to your first dare.

However might I suggest you practice your makeup skills, you are undoubtedly rusty after such a long absence. Maybe slip into some of Petra’s clothes and practice that sexy Bonnie Tyler voice and walk around in high heels until you are comfortable in them again.

Anyway to business… In the corner are a few contrivances that our out of place in this memorial to your past life. One is the Toshiba laptop next to the TV and beside it a mobile phone. The computer is unlocked as is the phone. You will need them for this and future challenges.

Your dare begins at seven PM and finishes at midnight tonight as per the rules of The Game. I hope that is not too inconvenient for you Petra but I really don’t care if it is; you know the consequences if you don’t play or don’t see the dare through to completion. Your first challenge is simple and is designed to make you comfortable being back in your own persona and you have plenty of time to prepare.

I have arranged a date for you, an assignation really, on a dating site. You are to let the man into your apartment at 7PM and entertain him until midnight; you know what I mean by entertain right?

Failure to complete the dare means I win The Game and the kitty and as a consequence all of your friends, family and business associates will get to meet Petra and be entertained no doubt by the details of her sordid past.

Don’t be too shocked Petra; admit that you are a little intrigued and excited to be resurrected and put back to good use doing what you do best. You fucking whore!

The Quizmaster’

“What the Fuck!” David shouted to the empty room.

There was no way that he could undertake this dare. Who would look after the baby? What would he tell Marie? And who makes dates with strangers on hook-up sites?

David got up off the bed leaving the letter on the pink duvet and went over to TV stand where an eighties-vintage color TV sat and incongruently beside it a Toshiba laptop with a telephone jack inserted in the modem port at the rear. The telephone cable was long enough to reach the coffee table and David set it down there and sat in the lounge chair. He leaned forward and pressed the Windows login icon for ‘Petra Pantsdown’; the Quizmaster had a sense of humour.

As David was advised no password was required and the welcome screen opened to reveal that the dialup internet connection was functioning and the web browser was operating with a number of windows open. The first was a hotmail email inbox for Ms Petra Pantsdown, the second the profile page on the Adult Friend Finder dating site for a Ms Petra Pantsdown. Her profile was adequately populated with pictures of her, mostly demure but a few compromising pictures of her and William but William’s face had been obscured. To summarise the profile it was basically was a plea from a promiscuous transvestite looking for casual encounters with men.

David was stunned at the elaborateness and expense the Quizmaster had gone to. Renting his old flat, furnishing it almost exactly as it had been twenty years ago, putting in a telephone line, establishing an internet account and creating an email account and dating profile. Whoever was tormenting him had plenty of time and money.

And where had they got those photos? Who had taken them? William? David had no recollection of Petra allowing herself to be photographed and William certainly would not have consented to having pictures taken of him engaging in sex with a transvestite.

David opened the email account and found an email string between Petra and man identified as Mick Miller; his pseudonym on Adult Friend Finder was ‘Trans Admirer’. Apparently they had been conversing for a week exchanging email and finally setting a date for an assignation tonight at Petra’s flat. David studied Mick’s profile pictures, Petra had been given access to a private folder on the site which included face pics rather than the public body shots and ‘dick-pics’.

Mick Miller was a handsome man, reasonably fit by the looks of him and apparently regularly used a tanning booth.

In her final email to Mick, Petra had supplied him with a mobile phone number and her street address; she would give him the house and apartment numbers tonight when he texted her at 6.30 PM. At least Petra was canny; not giving away where she lived until she was sure the man was absolutely sure of his intent to commit to the rendezvous.

David had no choice but to complete the dare but the Quizmaster had overplayed his or her hand. There would be records of who was renting the flat, who was renting the phone line and had purchased the mobile phone plan; David could do some detective work of his own without having to track down and contact either Rachael, Timothy, Sandra, or Bethany.

But his immediate problem was what to do about tonight and that was when the mobile phone next to the TV buzzed with an incoming text alert. David checked the screen: ‘looking forward to tonight xxx Mick’.

What was this guy a teenager sending kisses to his date? He supposed that online dating was a bit like that; the excitement and expectation of meeting up for an assignation. Back in the past had not Petra been similarly excited as she awaited for William to come around to her flat or later in their relationship as they got bolder and Petra more accomplished at ‘passing’, meeting in a pub or restaurant.

David picked up the phone and typed ‘me 2, but busy right now xxx Petra’ hoping it would keep Mick happy but shut down any notions of ‘telephone-tag’ he might have.

Some practicalities had to be dealt with immediately. He called the nanny and offered her twice her rate if she could stay the additional a few hours until Marie came home from her business dinner. Then he texted Marie telling her that he had run into an old friend from university and they were meeting up for drinks tonight and not to wait up for him to come home. He received an angry reply wanting to know why it had to be the same night as her business dinner and he replied that his friend was in town for one night only. He received an angry emoticon.

David was becoming very adept at lying; just as he had been when he lived his dual existences back in the 1980s.

There appeared to be nothing else to do but to comply with the directions from the Quizmaster for now. He suspected, no he was certain that he was being watched.

David took the letter off the bed, folded it and put it inside in his shirt pocket; it would go in with the others in the blue-painted steel lock-box when he got home. It would be part of evidence trail for when he confronted his tormentor.

He shucked out of his clothing and hung it in the closet then he looked at himself in full-length mirror on the back of the closet door.

The years had been kind to him; he was still trim and his body was kept mostly hairless, shaving his chest, belly and legs was one of the routine he had kept since his university days, Marie liked his body this way too. He had kept up a regime of fitness, which was easy once he met Marie because she was a ‘health nut’ and ‘gym junkie’; they enjoyed each other’s bodies and felt responsible to keep themselves in good shape. David also liked to cycle and rode every weekend.

That said, he was still twenty years older than those pictures, his face had a few wrinkles and he was a little thicker in the waist. He had kept his hair long despite the changing styles over the years and it was now worn shoulder length and usually kept in a ponytail during the day. Marie teased him that he wanted to look ‘artsy-fartsy’ being an author and all. He let his hair out and struck a pose.

“We have something to work with I suppose,” David said to the empty room.

Now for the practicalities. The preparations that transvestites and transsexuals never spoke about in public but were essential prior to any form of penetrative sex; although David was hoping it wouldn’t go that far.

He used the toilet and looked under the vanity and sure enough there was his old douche. He squeezed the bulb to ensure that it was still functioning. He took care of the necessities and then placed a gobbet of Veet depilatory cream between his buttocks to remove the hair around his anus. He shaved his face carefully and removed a few rogue hairs from his body and the small of his back; he decided to shave his legs too. He showered; ensuring that the Veet was completely washed away and shampooed and conditioned his hair. He dried his hair and bushed it, parted it in the centre and teased it out, snipping at the fringe to ensure it was straight.

It was standing in front of the vanity looking at the makeup arranged precisely as Petra liked it, that David’s consciousness was replaced by Petra. This was how it always been; as soon the transformation started David disappeared and Petra took his place.

She hadn’t practiced her makeup skills for so long that it took her a little longer than usual to do her face but the final product was perfect. The makeup was a little dated, very eighties, but Petra was not enamoured by the current minimalist makeup trends anyway. She liked lots of coloured eyeshadow, plenty of rouge to define her cheekbones and of course lashings of eyeliner and mascara. She did like the modern two-coat long lasting lipstick.

And now for the part to the transformation she adored; slipping into stockings, panties and brassiere. The feel of the stockings sliding up her freshly shaved legs was exquisite and the satin knickers sliding over them a delight. As she pulled them tight she was well aware of her semi-tumescence. If she was going out she would tuck her testicles into her inguinal canals and gaff herself so that she presented with a smooth feminine mound but she was dressing only to please her suitor tonight so she deftly tucked her penis between her legs and pulled her panties tight.

If Petra was going out she would fit herself with breastforms, realistic silicon tits to the uninitiated, using surgical adhesive or tape but as she was staying at home and was really only dressing for sex, she didn’t bother.

Petra decided to go for the ‘smart-tart’ look so she slipped into a black leather skirt and mauve satin blouse. Very eighties but that was the wardrobe she had been provided with. She slid her feet into the black three-inch high heels and went for a test drive, walking around the flat.

Back in her university days Petra had become adept at wearing and walking in high heels and those skills had obviously remained dormant because she glided around the flat like Joan Collins on the set of Dynasty. She practiced her feminine voice, which had taken her quite some time to get right back when she was still developing Petra’s persona. The Quizmaster was right, her voice was dark and smoky like Bonnie Tyler, to her it sounded so much better than some gay falsetto that some of the drag queens used.

She mooched around in the jewellery drawer and found some nice accessories and then sprayed herself liberally with Poison. She stood in front of the mirror. Petra was back! A mature version of her but with all the charm and elegance mixed with a little sass and sexiness.

Now! How kind had The Quizmaster been?

Opening the small fridge she found two bottles of Pinot Noir and six bottles of lager. She poured herself a glass of the Pinot. Then she reached under the coffee table searching the magazine shelf and she grinned when her fingers found a packet of cigarettes in the same place where she used to keep them.

She went back to the computer and saw that ‘Trans Admirer’ had indicated that he was non-smoker on his profile.

“Tough titty said the kitty,” she grinned and lit up.

“I’m sure a little cigarette breath won’t stop you; you pervert,” she blew smoke at the ceiling.

She opened the tray of the little compact disc player and tossed in a Heart CD and hit play, adjusting the volume so it created a nice background ambience.

Petra began to think about the practicalities of dealing with Mick when he arrived. The Quizmaster obviously had the flat under surveillance, for all she knew he was watching it now, so she would have to keep this Mick fellow entertained until midnight. She doubted he’d be happy to just drink and chat for five hours; her correspondence with him had been quite explicit that she wanted sex.

Besides, there was nothing to stop the Quizmaster logging into Petra’s accounts and contacting Mick asking him how he enjoyed his evening.

Although Petra had enjoyed her tryst with William she had never considered having sex with anyone else; in fact Petra had vanished when her relationship with William ceased. She would just have to deal with the situation as it presented itself.

As it turned out she needn’t have worried; by the time 7pm came around and she received the confirmation text from Mick she was half in the tank having drunk nearly all of one bottle of the Pinot Noir. She texted her response, giving him the street number.

‘Then come up to flat 12C,’ texted him and set her resolve.

“Here we go I suppose,” Petra said to herself.

In anticipation of William’s arrival the last thing Petra used to do was lubricate herself in expectation of his needs; she reached into the bedside table and took out the tube of KY jelly and did so now; is was as much part of her transformation routine as applying lipstick.

There was a knock at the door and Petra opened it with trepidation. Mick was tall, handsome, tanned and he was smiling, he held forth a small punnet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

“Not too presumptuous I hope?” he held out the gifts beaming a smile that would melt any woman’s heart.

Petra was stunned, meeting the man face to face and knowing what was expected of her was overwhelming. Mick saw that Petra was perturbed; his smile turned to frown.

“I'm sorry; I’ll go. You obviously aren’t up for this, I just hope I didn’t disappoint you,” Mick thrust the small bouquet and the bottle of wine into Petra’s hands and turned to leave.

Petra was still stunned as she looked bewilderingly at the offerings in her hands. Then she realised the consequences of letting Mick leave.

She put the wine and flowers down on the floor and took a step outside the apartment. She reached out tapped Mick on the shoulder and he turned around, a look of surprise on his face.

Petra remained silent but she stepped into him and pressed her lips to his; putting her arms around his broad strong back in an embrace. Mick wrapped Petra in his arms and returned the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Petra’s transformation was complete; she was once again a whole woman in the embrace of man who adored her.

“Shall we go inside; the neighbours might complain,” Mick held her tight and his eyes lit up as he smiled at her cheekily.

“Fuck the neighbours,” Petra replied and kissed him again, wrapping a leg around his, clinging to him.

“No. I’d rather fuck you, gorgeous,” Mick gasped into her mouth.

He held her close as he backed her into the apartment, kicking the door shut with his heel as he marched Petra to the bed. She had placed the same sheer red scarf over the lamp so that the little flat was lit by a rosy glow.

Mick lowered Petra onto the bed and sat down beside her. Petra sensed his impetuousness and eagerness as he threw off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and began to tug impatiently at his belt.

“Here, let me,” Petra eased Mick down on the bed.

She straddled him and lowered her face to his and kissed him; his hands left her hips and found her legs, he stroked her stocking-sheathed thighs and it was Petra’s turn to become impatient. She broke the kiss and went to work unbuckling his belt and unzipping his flies; she eased herself off him as she tugged down his trousers while he shucked out of his shirt. Finally when he was dressed only in his underpants, Petra eased them down to his ankles and he kicked them away.

The glans of his magnificent rampant penis glistened with pre-ejaculate, which Petra leaned down and licked away.

Mick gasped.

She engulfed Mick’s penis and worked her mouth slowly up and down the shaft.

“Stop! I’m going to come!” Mick pleaded

“That’s idea lover,” Petra smiled up at him, her face level with his groin.

“Yes but not like this; not the first time anyway,” Mick said, his voice hoarse with lust.

Mick used his strength and pulled Petra to him and rolled her under him; crushing her with his weight.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he groaned as he lifted himself to a kneeling position and his arms behind Petra’s knees.

He pushed her legs up and opened them, her skirt rose up exposing her panties and stocking tops. Mick eased forward, sliding his penis inside the leg of Petra’s knickers, searching for her sphincter. When he found the puckered bud it was already lubricated in anticipation of the evenings events. He thrust forward slowly and slid his hard cock all the way inside her.

Petra gasped as Mick entered her; she had forgotten how delicious the mingled feelings of pain, pleasure and fullness were, as Mick filled her anus with his flesh.

“Are you ok?” Mick looked down at her with both adoration and concern.

Petra looked up at him and smiled. She locked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her so she could kiss him and raised her buttocks, encouraging Mick to fuck her.

Mick held her legs open and began to vigorously fuck Petra as she whimpered little encouragements in his ear between kisses; she writhed beneath him, enjoying the feeling of his thick shaft sliding in and out of her tight passage. He was obviously an accomplished lover of transvestites, as he knew to thrust his glans against her prostate to maximise her pleasure which was evident by Petra’s own erect penis bulging her panties and leaking pre-seminal fluid.

They didn’t last long; Mick grunted and moaned as he pulled Petra to him tightly and climaxed. Petra locked her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck and she lifted herself up off the bed to mould herself to Mick’s body as she too reached her pinnacle. Mick’s cock pulsed and plunged inside her, filling her with his hot seed. Petra pushed her panty-clad penis up against Mick’s tight, flat belly to stimulate it as she too ejaculated. Her panties became sodden with her creamy issue.

Mick dug his fingers into Petra’s buttocks and squeezed them as he spent himself inside her; kissing her passionately, moaning into her mouth; writhing his body against hers as he held her tight.

They clung to each other, kissing and nipping, moaning and writhing as they climaxed.

When they were sated, Mick eased himself off Petra’s body and lay beside her staring at her pretty face. He reached up and lovingly eased her fringe out of her eyes and caressed her cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“No; I’m Petra,” she replied cheekily.

“Yes you are; and I’m Michael, but I prefer Mick. Rude of me not to properly introduce myself before I fucked you,” he grinned.

“I’ll forgive your impertinence if you do that again a little later,” Petra reciprocated and stroked his cheek.

“What about now?” his smile broadened.

“Now?” Petra’s brow wrinkled.

“Haven’t you heard of Viagra?” Mick beamed and rolled on top of her again.

Mick left the apartment just after midnight leaving Petra lying on the bed clad only in her stockings and high heels; she was exhausted, her anus was leaking the last of Mick’s issue. Her sphincter felt raw and her anus was bruised but it felt wonderful; she had never been so blissfully shagged and alternately tenderly made love to.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Mick smiled as closed the door behind himself.

Petra found her panties slipped them on and pulled the coverlet over herself and fell into a deep sleep, fully contented.

Neither of them had noticed the tiny lens of the camera set into an imperfection on the wall opposite the bed.

To be continued