It’s Different for Girls

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Brunette

I met Claire in an art gallery. Art galleries often have some very sensual women in and we’d got chatting over a mutual appreciation of an erotic Man Ray photograph. After refreshments and a fun chat at the cafe, I walked her to the tube station. We swapped details and were about to part when we decided not to. I think the way our eyes connected when we smiled at each other made us consider staying together longer.Claire invited me to her flat which was a ten-minute walk from the nearest station, closer than my place and she seemed quite keen to take me there.”Would you like a glass of something?” she said when we sat down in her flat.”Please, what do you have?””I’ve got a couple of bottles of decent red wine, some spirits: whiskey and gin I think.””Red wine?””OK, I’ll open a bottle, let’s see which one,” she said as she wandered off to the kitchen.Her flat was nice, it wasn’t incredibly chic or modern or large but the lounge was big enough to relax in and the kitchen was not open plan and connected to the lounge but was down the corridor somewhere.Claire returned with a couple of glasses and sat down next to me on the sofa, “Try the wine, it’s from New Zealand.”I drank some wine, “Umm… not bad. So as well as Man Ray are there any other surrealist artists you like?””Hell yeah. They had that dream, fetish, kinkiness thing going on. I love it.”Well, she’s direct. I looked at her and she was looking down at her glass of wine contemplating, looking all soft and sexy, her eyes all big and sweet.”So you like dream, fetish, kinkiness things then?” I asked.”Yes, I do,” and she looked directly at me like she had in the gallery. She had deep dark brown eyes, really gentle looking, and she was smiling almost laughing. She had a short haircut, brown hair, a pixie cut I think it’s called, pretty short all over but a bit longer and swept to the side up front. It let her face breathe. She looks cute, like a sexy tomboy.Now she was tapping her glass with her fingers, “I like the perversity of some of it. I mean it’s not really perverse but it gets called perverse by the general public. They took Freud’s somewhat over-ordered and categorised ideas about the psyche and unleashed them—set them free where they should be. So yes, I usually enjoy the surrealists.”We chatted some more about art and wine and music and I was starting to feel very comfortable in her company. She patted me on the leg and said, “Do you want another one?””Sure, it’s a good one, very tasty. Thanks”She smiled and went out into the kitchen returning with two refilled glasses. “Put some music on,” she said. “There’s a speaker system over there and a music streaming box next to it. Just keep the volume down please,” and then she placed her glass on the table and left the room. I figured she was off to the toilet which was off down the corridor somewhere in the same direction as the kitchen seemed to be.I knelt by the player flipping through albums, songs, şişman gaziantep escort artists before finally settling on “It’s Different for Girls,” by Joe Jackson and then I started flipping through Claire’s artbooks.”What was that first song you played? It’s appropriate.”I looked up and Claire had transformed. She had on a man’s dark evening suit with a white shirt, white bow tie and white cumberbund with a red carnation on his lapel and a black stick with a silver sphere on top something like Fred Astaire used to dance with. He had added a small mustache to her upper lip in black. Maybe it was eyeliner. She was leaning on his stick smiling.”It’s Different for Girls” by Joe Jackson—that was the first song I put on. And I can see how it’s kinda appropriate with you all dressed up like that.”He kicked her stick so it spun in a circle and walked towards me. “Do you like it? Do you like the look?”I had been surprised when he walked in and I was still feeling pretty surprised.”Umm… yes. I mean you look stunning. Do you do this often?” I said and winced. What an inane thing to say.”I like to cross-dress, yes. I like to bend stereotypes. I like to be a boy and a girl. I want to be a man and a woman to follow all their habits. What about you?””I can honestly say I’ve never thought about it before Claire.”He looked slightly disappointed. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to give it a try”, I added quickly.She smiled. “Good. Shall we play?””OK, what do you want me to do?””Play the woman of course silly. Follow me.”I followed Claire down the corridor and into his bedroom. She had prints on his wall. Decadent prints by Aubrey Beardsley, Felicien Rops and Bernard Montorgueil. He had also laid out some clothes on her bed. There were black stockings and suspenders and a matching set of black lace camisole and knickers, a pair of high heels and to complete the look a long dark ginger wig that would curl to the small of my back once I was wearing it.”I bought them large, you should be able to fit into them,” she smiled.He’s cute, I thought, but I’ve never done this before. This is a moment to think, I’m going somewhere I haven’t gone before. Claire reached round from behind and grabbed my cock and whispered into my ear, “Go on, put them on, put the clothes on. You’ll look sexy.” She unzipped my flies, reached in and wrapped his hand around my cock. I was starting to swell.”OK, go and wait in the front room and I’ll get dressed up.””Umm… good.” He let go of my cock and went to the lounge.I stripped and picked up the camisole, it felt soft and silky. I’d quite like this wrapped around my cock, maybe I’ll like this. I put on the camisole swiftly followed by the knickers which cradled my semi-erect cock and balls. Feels good. I was starting to enjoy this. So now the suspender belt and stockings. Which one happens first? I bunched up the stockings and gaziantep şişman escort fed them up my legs, put on the belt and attached the stockings. Everything felt soft and silky and it was kinky. I was starting to get turned on. I placed the wig on and moved it gently until it felt comfortable. It was slightly sticky, Claire must have put some wig tape on it for extra security. I went back to the lounge, wobbling on my new heels.”Ohhh… well would you look at that, doesn’t Christina look fabulous.””Christina?””Well, yes. You might as well have a new name for your new look and your new character. As my girlfriend shouldn’t you be preparing me something to eat. I’m hungry. There are some dips and vegetables and breadsticks in the fridge and in the cupboard by the oven.””OK, so what shall I call you as you’ve changed too?””I think I shall be Vincent, that’s a manly name.””OK Vincent, Christina will fix you up a snack.” I wobbled out into the kitchen to prepare the food. When I returned Vincent was smiling at me.”Stay there, and pass me the tray.” She picked out the houmous and knelt in front of me, dipped his fingers into the houmous, pulled down my knickers and rubbed the houmous over my dick.”Time to get a little crude.. itay,” she giggled, and started licking the houmous, spreading it all over my loins and stomach. This is getting messy.”Shouldn’t I be sucking your dick?” I said.”No… this is much more kinky, breaking down all the stereotypes”, she giggled. He had houmous all over her face. She looked up at me, smiling so sweetly and then slowly took my length into his mouth.”Ahhhh…” that’s so good. I could feel his breath and tongue on my dick. I started thrusting into her mouth. Fuck this is ultra-kinky. I’m dressed in women’s underwear getting deep-throated by a woman dressed as a man with my cock all covered in houmous, ummmm… ahhh… I moaned as he lightly pulled her teeth down my cock.Vincent started wanking my houmous-covered cock into her mouth although I noticed that the volume of houmous seemed to be getting less. “Vincent, are you eating the houmous?””Mmmpfhbeurh,” she mumbled. He took my dick out of his mouth and held it in her hand. She looked up at me with his big brown eyes and said, “Yes, of course, cock and houmous is one of my favourites.”The bizarreness of the situation was really turning me on and my cock felt long and fat and even as I pounded Vincent’s dip. “Ahhhh… that feels good.”I tried to grab Vincent’s head or hair but he knocked my hand aside, “That’s a real male thing to do Christina, stroke my head like a lady.”I stroked his hair and moaned. Vincent’s wildness and control was turning me on. I let him set the pace. She made an O with his mouth and teased it up and down my rod. “I want to cum in his mouth,” I thought, “I bet she’ll eat my cum all mixed up with the houmous.”.But he stopped. “Kneel down,” gaziantep şişman escort bayan she said so I knelt facing her. “Time for the make-up.” Claire reached over to a side table, grabbed a bag, opened it and reached in.”Pucker your lips and play with my pussy,” she said, opening the zip on his trousers.I puckered my lips and played with his pussy. She was very wet and he was moaning as she took out the lipstick. His eyes were glistening as she turned my lips a slutty shade of red and then added some eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara to complete the whore look. Claire stared into my eyes, smiled and made a throaty groan. “Ahhh… my slutty whore, what fun we are going to have. Ahhhh… that feels good… oohhhh yes. Keep rubbing it while I look at my sexy slut. Yeeeessss!!!”Vincent reached out for some carrot crudites, glanced at me, grinned mischievously and started running the carrots around his pussy lips and inserting them into her front hole licking his lips. Once the carrots had all gone in she gave her pussy a good jiggle with his hand and then pulled one out. “Fancy a carrot with some of my houmous on,” she said, running the carrot around her mouth before placing it inside my mouth on my tongue, leaving it there.I chewed it. “Thank you Vincent, it tastes good. Ummm… uum. Can I have another please?””Of course you may Christina, you are so polite.” He pulled out one carrot at a time from her pussy, kissed it and placed it on my tongue where I greedily ate it all.Claire’s hips started to rotate as she rubbed her pussy. He looked at me, smiled, grabbed my head in both hands and kissed me deeply on the mouth, sticking his tongue into my cheeks. It tasted of real houmous this time. She was sucking so hard on my mouth that my tongue ended up in his mouth between her teeth. He stroked my head and wig. She was still not releasing my tongue and I whined so he leaned into me.Suddenly his teeth let go of my tongue and her hands let go of my head which threw me off balance. I stumbled, realised I had heels on so I crumpled to the floor in fear of twisting my ankles if I tried to keep my balance. She looked over his shoulder smiling at me as she left the room. He blew me a kiss. “Find a good waltz on the music player,” she said happily, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”I crawled on my knees over to the music player as it seemed easier than walking and started looking for some suitable music. “The Sad Lovers’ Waltz” by Camper van Beethoven, I don’t think that’s what he wants. “Who was the famous composer of waltzes?” I wondered. “Johann Strauss – The Blue Danube.” That should do the job. I put it on.Vincent breezed back into the room minus the houmous on his face carrying a wet cloth which she used to clean the houmous off my face whilst trying not to ruin my make-up. “Umm.. I think it needs a bit of touching up,” he said, “come here.” She touched up my make-up, gently slapped my face on both cheeks and smiled. “Wear this.” She handed me an elaborate bird mask made with what looked like real feathers. The feathers shone and glimmered mostly of a blue-green colour. I put on the mask, it felt quite light but it narrowed my range of vision to what was essentially directly in front of me.”Let’s dance,” she said, and manoeuvred us into a ballroom dancing pose. He took the lead of course.

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