It was a clear morning, unusually, and the view from the seventh-floor apartment window across the water to Hong Kong Island was spectacular. We had moved here from Tokyo five months ago, and my wife had taken to the life instantly. We had married in Japan after a very short relationship. I was on the rebound from a gorgeous young Japanese guy, and she wanted the lifestyle I could offer. The sex between us had died almost instantly (she didn't have a cock, a major drawback). She realized her mistake, but didn't want to give up the nice things, so she just started going out to bars to satisfy her needs while I pursued my own tastes. The move to Hong Kong changed nothing, in fact she became more aggressive as she realized the greater possibilities offered by a large expat community, and started to spend less time in the house.

'Back tomorrow', she had said as she left this morning, carrying a large tote bag and clad in a skimpy top, very tight shorts and knee boots.

Having waited long enough, I went into my bedroom, took out the bottom drawer in the wardrobe, rummaged for my secret stache in the large space behind it, and started my transformation. About 90 minutes later I was done, and went to the mirror to check the results. Looking back at me was a drag queen: black pageboy wig revealing large round earrings, full makeup with long eyelashes and glossy lipstick, and a black chocker around the neck. I was clad in a very tight one-piece PVC outfit that I could only just get into and that somehow managed to hold my hard-on in check (I didn't wear panties, they just got in the way). It clasped at the sides, only just covering my artificial breasts but too short to hide the top of my black garter belt and the clips holding up the sheer black stockings that covered my long shaven legs.

I pirouetted on my high black heels to check out the rear. The PVC clung to my back, outlining the curve of my buttocks almost perfectly. I checked my hands. The artificial nails shone black, setting off the two gold rings I wore, and the bracelets matched perfectly. I still had time. Michael wasn't coming for about 45 minutes. He lived two floors up. I had met him at the gym near the beach. He was Chinese, 26 years old, worked out nearly every day, and had a body to die for. I had barely been able to conceal my interest as I took in his pecs and biceps, and invited him for coffee. We had been fucking ever since. He had invited four or five other guys, all drag queens, to a party that was going to last all day and hopefully involve a happy amount of debauchery. It was only 10am, but I poured a drink as I waited, then another, then another. I was pretty drunk when I heard the doorbell about one hour and a half later. I opened it to Michael, who had planned to check for traffic first then walk me up the stairs (almost no-one used them) to his apartment.

'Sorry', he smiled lamely,

'no party today. I have to work'. Fuck, I thought, you could have called me earlier, and told him so in a slurred voice.

'Don't get angry, I can't help it,' he protested. I went to shut the door, but in my drunken state I almost stumbled in my heels. Michael reached for me.

'Drinking early, I see', he grinned.

'What the fuck it is to you', I hissed, turning from the door and moving over the window to look at the playground below. He followed,

'Hey, don't get hissy with me, you little bitch,' he whispered right behind me, and I felt his hands reach around my waist and hike up my PVC dress.

'I've got five minutes until the ferry bus, and I not going to waste it' he said sharply, as I heard a rustle of trousers behind me. I started to turn around.

'You can't just fuck me when you want to'. I was angry at him, angry that the party was off and that I had gone to all this trouble for nothing.

'Oh yeah? Just you watch', and he spun me back to face the window, forced my head down onto the wide black marble ledge, pulled my hips toward him, and jammed his cock inside me. My anger disappeared as he penetrated. God I love this prick, I thought. Shove it up me! Michael rammed his member as far as it would go and then started to piston me hard, his hips slapping on my buttocks as he drilled me. He was rough, and I adored it. He shot very quickly, withdrew, wiped himself with a tissue, zippered his pants, and put his lips to my ear.

'I'll fuck you when and where I want to', he said quietly, and left. I remained bent over the ledge for a couple of minutes, then stood, walked unsteadily to the sideboard, took some tissues to wipe off my arse, checked my hair and makeup in the mirror (ever the dutiful drag queen) and readjusted my dress. The wine bottle was next to me, and I took another drink. My day of partying had ended before it had started, but I wasn't going to get dolled up like this just for a five-minute fuck by the window. I had some more wine, then went to my bedroom and stretched myself on the long black sofa to think about who I could call to come over to play.

I sensed something was different. Damn, I had fallen asleep from the wine! I moved to sit up, and heard the sound of the TV. Had I turned it on? I was sure not. Maybe my wife had left the timer on. I managed to stand, and walked shakily from the bedroom to the living room to turn it off. I flash of light greeted me. Unsure what had happened, I blinked several times, rubbed my eyes, and when my vision cleared I saw my wife seated on the living room sofa with a camera in her hand.

'My, we do look pretty, don't we,' she smirked.

'Nice legs', she added. Stunned, I just stood there in my outfit.

'Turn around', she said, and for some reason I did. Another flash.

'These are great photos. I knew you did guys, and I always wondered what you looked like in drag. I bet the boys just love you. Does work know? I could always e-mail these to...'

'Don't you dare', I shouted. I rushed toward her to grab the camera, but alcohol and high heels conspired to land me on the floor.

'Poor little drag queen, all in a heap', she mocked.

'I won't send them, don't worry, but I want to see you do it with a guy. I've called Jean, and he wants to watch too'. Jean was a young French guy who lived across the plaza and had been fucking her regularly. The alcohol still working, my anger changed to determination. I'll show the little bitch, I'll do it with a guy right in front of her and her boyfriend, and I'll show them I enjoy it. But who, at such short notice, and who would agree? She solved my dilemma.

'Jean is coming up now. I called him. And remember Armand? He is too. Did you know he's bisexual, I bet he'll love you', she grinned. Armand was North African, tall, dark and good-looking. He was a friend of Jean's, and I had heard from a fairly reliable source that my wife sometimes fucked them together.

'Fine, but I need to tidy up a bit first.'

'Why, you look just delicious' she laughed as I headed for my bathroom to put my appearance in order. It took about 20 minutes before I was happy. I swapped the sheer stockings for fishnets, and the black heels for towering platforms. I also wiggled out of the PVC dress and into a tight corset that covered my fake tits, pulled on a tight mesh top, and slid on a tight PVC miniskirt. All done and ready, I opened the bathroom door to the sound of laughing voices. I stood in the doorway to the living room, stuck a hip out, licked my lips and ran my hand across the front of my skirt. The three stopped talking and looked at me. I could see Armand almost salivating. Jean smiled, took my wife's hand, and placed it on the zipper of his trousers.

'Why are you with HIM when you can have THIS?', he said to her laughing. Rubbing her palm across his growing erection, she looked at Armand.

'Show him your cock, Armand. I know he wants to see it.' Armand stood, removed his singlet, and dropped his jeans. No underwear, just cock, cock and more cock, God I DID want it! Black and hard, glistening, arching up and forward. I could feel myself harden.

'Look, his dick's standing!', my wife said to Jean as she saw my miniskirt bulging.

'I didn't think it could', and they both laughed. Not with you, you bitch, I thought. I removed my mesh top and unfastened the mini, leaving myself in a black corset, garters and heels, my hard cock exposed in front of Armand.

'Don't you want to suck him?', she said suggestively. I did. I knelt down in front of him on my platforms, extended my tongue, and started to gently lick his head. He shivered. I moved slowly down his shaft and worked his balls with my tongue, before returning the way I had come and pausing to lick the sensitive area just under his head. Armand took in a quick breath, and I closed my lips around him, working his shaft deeper into my throat until I could take no more. I could see beside me that my wife had opened Jean's pants and was gently sucking him as they watched my glossy lips on Armand's prick. I could feel Armand rock-hard now. I would have been happy to take his load of African cargo in my mouth, but my wife stopped sucking Jean for a moment and said smilingly to Armand

'I'm sure he'd like you to fuck him.' He grinned, his cock still in my mouth. He withdrew, stood, and pushed me toward the window, the scene of my earlier encounter with Michael. I took the same position, and heard my wife laugh.

'Wow, he does have a nice arse. Cock heaven!' My hole was still loose from Michael's cock, but Armand's was thicker and harder, and I enjoyed the sensation of it expanding me further. He wasted no time going to work, and I heard a camera shutter again as I couldn't help crying out with the pleasure of a ramrod black dick doing my bum. I turned my head sideways on the ledge as Armand buggered me, and saw that Jean had my wife pinned against the wall, holding one leg up as he fucked her with his elegant French penis. They were both watching as Armand came with a cry, shooting what seemed like an endless stream of semen into my cave. Jean climaxed as well, and he and my wife decoupled as I remained bent over the ledge. They came to look.

'Wow, Armand, you really shot a load,' Jean said to his friend.

'Look at him...what do you expect!', he beamed in reply. My wife reached between my legs.

'Oh, he's hard and hasn't come yet. What a shame. What don't you masturbate for us, sweetie?' I started to protest, but she took the camera and waved it.

'I bet your boss would LOVE to see you in drag with a black cock up your arse...'

'Sit on that chair, in front of us, and do it for us', she almost commanded.

'And spread your legs.' She sat between the two men on the sofa, gently massaging their cocks as I did as she asked. The three watched as I climaxed and shot on my garter belt. She had excited them both to hardness again. She leant to take Jean in her mouth, and beckoned for Armand to fuck her from behind. She released Jean's cock for a second, and continued stroking it with her fingers as she turned to me and said with a smile:

'Now get your slut gear off, put on that maid's uniform you have hidden in your bathroom, and get us something to drink. It's going to be a busy afternoon.'




Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus