Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies

by Lara Friedman

  "Soak me Nik!"

  "Ahhhhhhh!"

  I couldn't hold it any longer. My member exploded spraying cum like ticker tape over Katy's face mixing with the hot water and conditioner. She licked her lips pointing to her breasts as I shot out a final burst of fluid splattering her pink nipples.

  I dropped down to the magenta coloured linoleum drained but euphoric. I slid over under the showerhead and pulled Katy into my chest. Her breasts pressed into my ribs as she rested her head onto my broad shoulders. I lowered my hand and gently rubbed her clit. Katy's hand fell in unison and stroked my still hard penis.

  As the hot water continued to fall over our naked skin clouds of steam floated across the room leaving us cocooned by a blind transparent completely fallible wall. Katy's breaths were calm and steady. She raised herself a little and kissed me softly on the cheek tightening her grip around my shoulders as she did so.

  "Thank you..." She murmured.

  The End.

  The Sewing Class

  My wife (2nd marriage ) divorced me because she could not deal with my cross dressing. It was actually the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I proceeded to get my own apartment where I would not have to hide my wardrobe and I could come and go as I pleased. Except for going to work, I started to live dressed up as a woman almost all the time.

  My goal at the time was to transition completely but I was denied hormone therapy I would have needed because of medical reasons as a result of bypass surgery. Still I enjoyed my life as a woman.

  I soon gathered up many cross dressing friends and transsexuals and life was one big party. I loved shopping for pretty dresses and shoes and of course my kid leather gloves and boots, and of course leather skirts and coats. I was always attracted to prom dresses and ball gowns especially in satin. Perhaps it was because when I was younger, my mother who was a wonderful dressmaker would use me to model long dresses that she would be working on . I also grew partial to satin bridal dresses and developed a fetish for anything in satin.

  One day I was reading an ad for evening sewing classes which were to be held at the local high school. I thought that it would be fun to learn how to sew my own dresses and that it would be an opportunity to meet women as well.

  Needless to say, I was the only male who enrolled along with 12 women. They all giggled a little to see a man wanting to learn how to sew. I told them of how my mother had been a great dressmaker and of how she would have me wear dresses for her to work on. I also confessed that I enjoyed dressing in women's clothes and wanted to make my own ball gowns. None of the women were really shocked at this. They all thought that I was kidding them until I showed them pictures of me dressed as a woman. They all agreed that I looked pretty good as a woman. One of the ladies even went so far as to say that it would be OK if I came to class dressed as a woman and that it would make things interesting. They all agreed that I should dress for class and from that day on I came to all the classes in my nicest clothes.

  Class days were always very special and I took extra care to look my best. I did not care if I was over dressed compared to the other students, but I knew that they would always comment on what I was wearing and how could I afford such elegant clothes. I always wore my kid leather gloves and would wear my leather skirts and knee high boots as often as possible.

  I think that many of the ladies accepted me as one of them and would invite me to join them at a local bar after classes. They all thought it was a lot of fun when some guy would hit on me and on how I would play along. I had confessed that I truly loved females and was not gay but I was not sure if they believed me.

  One day I received a phone call from one of the ladies from the class. She wanted some advice on a dress she was sewing for a project and wondered if I could help her because she thought that I was doing so much better than she was. I realized that her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she wanted to see where and how I lived. I was very pleased to invite her over to my apartment that very evening after 8PM which she readily accepted.

  Her name was Annie. She was an attractive brunette in her mid forties with a nice figure and a pleasing smile. I cleaned up my apartment to make it presentable but I did leave enough magazines and pictures and other items that were clearly feminine. I double shaved, got into my makeup and wig. I put on my black satin waist cincher with a black satin garter belt and black stockings and of course my black satin bra. I put on my black soft leather knee length skirt and a blue satin blouse. I put on a pair of kidskin pumps ( I would have preferred to wear my boots) and I thought that I looked sexy.

  I left my bedroom closet doors ajar so you could see the clothes hanging there and had draped a purple satin nightgown over the mauve satin bedspread. I had just received a pair of up to the shoulder black kid gloves from E Bay and I left them on the dining room with the packaging for her to notice when she came in.

  At exactly 8PM, there was a knock on the door and there was Annie. To my amusement and surprise she was also wearing a leather skirt and she was also wearing black leather over the knee boots and a satin camisole. I must have mentioned during one of our classes that I had a particular attraction for leather and that I thought that women were always sexy in leather. I gushed at how sexy and lovely she looked and she returned the compliment.

  She came in with a dress in a garment bag draped over her arm. I told her she could put her coat and dress and things on my bed while I opened up a bottle of wine for the both of us. When she came in the kitchen, she had to mention the beautiful satin nightgown that was on my bed and asked if I wore nightgowns all the time which of course I told her I did. We both took sips of our wine and she touched the black kid gloves that I had left on the table. She put the gloves up to her cheek and said she had never felt anything so soft and how great the leather gloves smelled. She had never seen gloves that long except in the movies.

  I told her that I had bought them on E Bay to wear with my new satin ball gown that I was making for myself. I could tell that she really wanted to try them on and offered to help her put these wonderful long leather gloves on. I could see that the soft leather was having an effect on her as she slid her arms down the leather shaft. I helped smooth the leather up her arm and squeezed the tight leather down her fingers and smoothed out all the wrinkles. She held her arm straight out and took in the aroma of the leather. I said if she put the other glove on that I could take pictures of her wearing them which she readily agreed to.

  I asked her what kind of help she wanted from me and she took a sip of her wine and smiled and made me promise not to tell anyone but she had bought a satin corset online and was having difficulty putting it on. She said that I had mentioned in class that I wore corsets and that I loved them. I told her that I would be happy to show how to lace up a corset.

  We went into the bedroom and she put her gloved hands around my neck and gave me a long wet kiss and thanked me for letting her try the kid gloves on. I helped her unbutton her blouse and draped it on a chair and unzipped her leather skirt and let it fall to the floor. I was pleased to see that she too was wearing a black satin bra and a camisole, a garter belt with thigh high stockings and black satin tap panties.

  I told her that she looked beautiful and we kissed again, this time longer. I could sense that she was enjoying touching me with her kid gloves and she could tell that I was getting aroused. I opened my bureau drawer and took out my own leather corset and would show her how the laces worked. I also took out another pair of kid gloves that were over the elbow but not as long as the pair she was wearing. In the meantime she was checking herself out in the mirror and began rubbing her pussy through her satin panties and moaning. I put my kid gloves on and came up behind her and cupped her breasts with my gloved fingers kissing her in the neck. I knew it would be an exciting evening as she was already trembling in my arms.

  I explained to her how the different sets of laces worked and how to pull each set separately until the desired tightness was reached and how
you wrapped the laces around you She had purchased a below the bust corset which was perfect. I loosened the lace and put it around her and hooked all the clasps in the front. I proceeded to tighten the laces as much as I could the first time and wrapped the laces around her waist.

  I asked if she would like it if I took pictures of her in that outfit and she agreed readily. First I had to remove the garters from the corset as she was already wearing a garter belt. As I did so I brushed my hand on her pussy and she grasped it in both hands and started rubbing it vigorously. I took her in my arms and started kissing her passionately holding her face in my gloved hands. Her gloved hands were holding mine and she was all over my body.

  I reached behind her back and undid her bra and let it fall to the floor. My gloved fingers went immediately to her breasts and I took turns massaging them and kissing them. I knelt down before her and slowly took down her black satin panties. Her pussy was already moist as I inserted my two fingers and began a slow rotating motion. I removed my fingers as she licked her pussy juice from my gloved fingers.

  I rose and lay back on the bed and had her kneel astride my chest and guided her pussy to my waiting tongue. I made her love to her throbbing pussy and massaged her stiff little tits at the same time. I could feel each one of her orgasms. Finally she slid off and reached for my cock which had softened up some in the meantime. She put it in her mouth and gently sucked on it until it stiffened again. Then she climbed back on top and slowly descended on my rock hard cock for a nice slow rotating motion. Only a few moments went by when she climaxed again. This time she slid off my cock and put it in her mouth until I blew my whole load in her mouth.

  We spent the night together and did see each other occasionally. I don't know how the other ladies in the class ever found out about it, but from that time on , I had a wonderful clientele of ladies needing help with their "sewing".

  The End.

  The Girl in the Cellar

  "Is this going to be it for me?" I ask my faceless captor.

  I, Naomi Spencer, a young rich girl confined in a dark cellar for two weeks, have fallen in love with the man who kidnapped me while I was sunbathing on a summer afternoon next to my pool. My greatest hope is that the man who intends to extort a ten million dollar ransom for me shares my sentiments.

  At the age of twenty-six, I am an orphan. My father, a scion of the family through whom I inherited my wealth, died of alcoholism when I was a young child. My mother was killed in traffic accident three years ago. The beneficiary of a trust fund, I have nonetheless decided to be a productive member of society, having gone to law school, and now work as a public defender.

  My uncle, who controls the family finances, has refused to pay the sum that will earn my freedom. He and the rest of the old monied New Englanders who are slowly draining the fortune of nineteenth century shipping magnate, looked askance when my daddy took as his bride the daughter of poor Roman Catholic Filipino immigrants, a waitress at the yacht club where they dined and rubbed shoulders with other idle heirs.

  The rules of the trust fund entitled me to a comfortable monthly stipend to spend however I so chose at the age of eighteen. That I am an activist for the underprivileged has estranged me from the rest of my family.

  I worry that my uncle, with whom I have had a tempestuous relationship, would prefer that my captor restore the family honor by ending the life of the maverick, conceived out of wedlock, and restore the family honor. So the faceless individual who holds me in captivity has decided that witnessing him torture me will stir up whatever feelings of empathy exist in the cold hearts of my relatives and bring my ransom payment.

  "No, you're still worth more alive than dead," Faceless replies.

  From the tiny cell encloses me, through the iron bars I am staring at a noose dangling from a hook in the ceiling. I count thirteen turns in the three-quarter inch thick hemp rope. Beneath the noose, a footstool is in place on which for me to stand before I am suspended. If things go according to his plan, I will dangle at the end of the rope, strangling under my own weight.

  I was clad in a white bikini when I was taken. My captor tosses the flimsy little number through the bars and I am able to catch it before it hits the concrete floor.

  "Put it on," he commands me.

  Every time he visits me his face is hidden by a black ski mask, which reveals only his dark brown eyes and luscious lips. He dwarfs me at six feet. Through the tight knit turtleneck and jeans, the only clothing I have seen him wear, I can tell that he is trim and muscular.

  I am naked except for a long sleeve white men's shirt, which I unbutton and let fall off my shoulders to the floor.

  "Why don't you let me hang naked?"

  He raises his right hand and scratches his chin, pausing momentarily in thought.

  "No, what the video needs to convey is that every day they don't pay, you're that much closer to being dead, not that you're being violated."

  "But if I'm dead, there'll be a few million more dollars for them to split between them, since I don't have any heirs. My family will probably break out the champagne when you kill me."

  He unlocks the door to my cell and steps inside. I plant a kiss on his lips, wrap my arms around him, and bury my head in his chest. The manacle clamped around my right ankle attached to the fetter leading to a concrete block prevents any possibility of my escape

  "I don't want to kill you. I just to make them hurt, just like they did to my family."

  My captor had related the saga of how our attorneys had been able to weasel out of compensating his mother after the death of his father, who had died of cancer related to his years of asbestos exposure during the cleanup of toxic waste generated by the family firm.

  "Then you picked the wrong Spencer to kidnap. They would have paid top dollar for one of the debutantes."

  "If your uncle is heartless enough to let you go to the next world, your cousins will start wondering just how good it is to be one those rich Spencers. I suspect his days in charge of the trust will be numbered if you meet a bad end."

  "Or they might decide no one else will think we're worth the trouble of kidnapping if I end up dead because of this."

  I feel his tumescence as I press against him, reassuring me that the love growing between us will be enough to save me.

  "Put the suit on. It's time."

  I point to the shackle around my ankle that will prevent me from slipping into the tiny panty that will hide my pudenda. He kneels down, turns the key in the lock, and the shackle flies open. The metal no longer pressing into my skin, I sigh with relief.

  With a coquettish smile on my visage, I step into the flimsy piece of swimwear that will compose half of my costume as I play the victim of a sadist who will inflict any amount of pain to exact his price from her loved ones. But my only loved one is an orange tomcat, whose well being in my absence I pray for.

  My captor's eyes are fixed on me as I drag the bikini bottom over my thighs, wriggling to goad the tiny piece of cloth into place. I place my arms through the spaghetti straps of the top, guide my breasts into the cups that barely hide my nipples, and watch the ersatz sadist in whose hands my life rests enjoy the site of my ample breasts nearly hanging out of the cups. I then turn and let him tie me up in the back.

  I take my brush off the little vanity he has allowed me to have and run it through my wavy brown hair, examining my face in the mirror hanging just out of my reach outside of my cell. That lines of worry do not mar my countenance is surprising to me, until I realize that I have begun to feel safe with my captor. Despite the gulf between our respective backgrounds, we understand each other.

  I reach for the tube of lipstick that was in the purse I had automatically grabbed as I was led away at gunpoint from my home.

  "No makeup," he says gruffly.

  I put the lipstick down and turn to him and pout.

  "Just a little for self confidence!" I plead, fearing that I may look mousy in the last image taken of me while alive.

>   "Afraid not."

  He pulls my arms behind my back. My heart pounds as he wraps a white cord around my wrists, cinches it, and secures the tie with a square knot. I wonder what it will feel like as I am suspended by the neck, hungering for air.

  I try to free my hands, but the cord holds. My eyes shift to the door at the top of the steps. I see that it is closed, certainly locked by my captor, and I without a means to wrest the key from him. am helpless, completely in his power; my only hope his mercy.

  I turn to him, pleading with my eyes not to be choked to death at the end of the rope. He says nothing. I feel his meaty right hand wrap around my left arm, the hand that had caressed me so gently as we made love the night before.

  He nudges me forward, and I step across the threshold of the cell. I have not seen the sun for two weeks and wonder if I will ever breathe fresh air or see daylight again.

  ******

  Did what we shared last night mean anything to him, I wonder. It had started as we were talking face to face, the bars of my cell separating us by inches; I naked, except for the men's dress shirt he had given me, and he clad in the black turtleneck, ski mask, and tight jeans.

  Sharing a six pack of Heineken had loosened our tongues, and we found that both of us had a liking for the same foods, the same sports teams, the same movies, and even had learned the same foreign language in high school.

  I began feeling wet between my legs as my mind created an image of the face behind the mask. What a brave and foolish creature he was to challenge the wealth and power of my kin!

  A hundred years ago one of our goons would have finished off such a fool and walked the streets fearlessly the next day. But this generation of Spencers only had an armada of attorneys to protect the treasure they lived off. A brave fool such as my faceless captor could put a dent in the fortune.

  It was his impetuousness that had seduced me, and I lusted after the power he held. Not the power of old money with a network of stooges to do its bidding in the legislature or the courts, but the dynamic of one who would throw away his life to right a wrong, a man who would die or go to prison satisfied that he did what must be done.