"Lovely Suck off in undies" read the graffiti in the toilets at Fenchurch street station.
I did not normally work in that part of London, but an early start meant that now I was at a loose end, and decided to take a wander, despite the overcast skies.
I was about 18, and under my smart but uncomfortable suit I had my little secrets, pearl coloured lace and satin knickers, a broad suspender belt and white stockings. I had a matching bra in my briefcase, and decided o pop into the first toilets I saw to put it on, now that I was free to do what I fancied.
I have always found trains and stations erotic, having had all sorts of experiences there. I have a special fondness for waterloo in particular, where I used to arrive on a Friday night and change for a night on the town, often spending more time in the cubicles than in the clubs, posing and teasing...
Anyway, its easy with a bit of practice to slip on a bra without taking your shirt off, and I straightened my stockings, buckled up, and got up to go, when the invitation caught my eye.
All the messages were in the frame of the door, the rest of the cubicle being spotless, if a bit rank in odour.
I looked down the list, and made a note of a few numbers, for a bit of phone later on.
There were some very filthy drawings, a few things I had not heard of, but was determined to find out about, and I was very excited by the time I got up to go, so much so that I left my briefcase behind! The toilets were what cissys like me had before the Internet!
I took a walk nowhere in particular, and found myself in the East End, basically just a building site with the occasional chippie.
There was a very dark looking toilet in a side street, which I investigated, but it had been vandalised so as to be unusable. I thought about using the ladies, and wondered about some big hairy East End barrow boy catching me as I left.
On balance I decided to walk back to civilisation, try and find my briefcase, and hold it in as long as I could.
I passed a phone box and decided I should ring the number. Just a tease, a sexy little prank call.
I first got an answering machine.
"Er hi -- it's a message for Julie -- I just thought I would ring, and.. er..." Lost or words I resisted the temptation to start talking dirty there and then, but the call was suddenly picked up.
"Who's that?" asked a deep sleepy voice.
"Err, its Cathy"
"Oh yes? What are you wearing Cathy?"
"Black" -- I have no idea why I lied -- my creamy knickers were perfectly sexy enough when I put them on that morning " Stockings, a tight bra, cutting into my chest"
"I'm in purple, just knickers now, and I can put my stockings on when you get here"
"I just wanted to talk, to listen to you talk"
"I'm not into phone wanking sweetheart" His deep voice made this sexy but comical at the same time" I want to fuck -- I don't need silly little girls getting me all horny and then not delivering. Do you take it up the arse? I love to ream, to lick your arsehole, to get you wet, to suck your cock, to put hair gel round your bottom and stick my fingers in -- I love arseholes, now can you come and see me"
I was nervous -- this was a bit too real, immediate -- this guy was a bit of a perv..." Err, no I just wanted to talk you know, err I like to play with myself, and.."
"If you were here now I would fuck you Cathy, I would fuck you and suck you and you could see my big prick in my purple undies, and touch my arsehole -- but you come here now, no phone stuff"
I hung up, and foolishly looked around, while the street walked by, quite oblivious to my pounding heart and paranoia.
I still badly needed a pee, so started to walk quickly, not sure where to go, just away from here.
I quickly got lost, and the rain started, and within half an hour I was drenched, literally soaked to the skin, my clothes stuck to me, as I walked along a busy road, the dye from my suit dripping into my shoes.
I eventually just sat down, up against a building, not sure whether to carry on, or just sit there and cry, lost, a bit scared, wet, cold.
I just had had enough. I swore never to do this again, as I had so many times before.
Once, when I was 13 I bought a slip in the shopping centre near where I lived and went into the toilets to put it on under my trousers.
There must have been a glory hole or something, because before I pulled my trousers up a hand appeared under the cubicle from one side and tried to grab me -- I yanked everything up and ran as fast as I could, almost all the way home, my slip all caught up, so that I had to pull it out and throw it into the bushes near my house.
I felt that fear again -- I loved the idea of being caught, but what if it actually happened? What would it be like? The smell, the pain, would I catch something? Would I die? I could not tell anyone, some big guy who would just hurt me and fuck me would trap me -- I did not want that did I?
I got up, and I was raining even more heavily -- I walked and I walked, and eventually I just wet myself, there seemed no point waiting for it to happen, the rain had ruined my clothes anyway, so I let my warm pee flow down my stockings into my socks and shoes.
Now I just felt dirty, and walked hoping to be able to see a bus or tube station through the rain.
I now know I ended up on the commercial road.
All around m were brightly coloured clothing suppliers, selling mostly Indian clothes and saris, and lots of them with displays of cheap underwear in the window.
The rain was just ridiculous, so I dived into a huge place like a warehouse.
The woman behind the counter looked me up and down, and said
"Wholesale only -- no shop"
"Sorry -- I just came in from the rain, and wanted to wait until it stopped?"
"Hammeeed!" She called. Her husband appeared from the back, and she explained something to him in Asian I suppose.
"Ok guy -- you buy dry clothes here OK? Then you stay until the rain stops."
It seemed reasonable, and I was drenched.
"We don't have changing room -- you come to the back, and change."
His manner was friendly but quite brusque. He handed me a pair of very cheap jeans and a black T-shirt, and stared. I waited for him to turn away, but he did not.
I turned around. I had been in similar situations before, so with my thumbs hooked my suspenders and stockings down inside my trousers, and managed to stuff it all in a ball before he got a peek.
With my bra it was a bit trickier. But again I managed to get everything off in one go, and now stood in front of him quite naked, before I reached first for my jeans.
"No pants? You do not wear pants little man? Come now, how could they be wet through!"
"No -- stop they'll be..."
Before I could get the words out he was unravelling my clothes
"You will ruin these clothes like this -- no respect for these clothes"
"It's all right -- they're ruined now" I squeaked, pulling on the t shirt as quickly as I could
"No -- they will dry clean -- oh what is this?"
I slumped to the floor as he pulled out first a stocking ad pulled it like spaghetti out of the wet ball of my clothes, snagging my knickers and suspenders after it.
"You are a girl? No you are a boy -- I know boys like you.. You are happier like a girl."
"No. its .." I scrabbled for an excuse -- I never planned for this moment. "It's a bet -- I did it for a bet"
"No, you like girls clothes, and that is fine. My brother too does this."
I felt sort of relieved. "Now, the rain is here for a while -- I bet you have nice girls clothes at home -- but I have better, Wait."
He went to the front of the shop, and said something to his wife. She giggled, and he came back with some knickers from the window, and a long bra top, about twice my size.
I did not know how to respond -- it was like being dressed up by an elderly doting aunt -- not sexy at all, just embarrassing.
I put the knickers on, and the bra top. He handed me some tights -- again, I hesitated -- I hate tights.
"Now you are decent, I let my wife help you."
She came in, giggling and pretending not to look at me.
"No -- not cheap -- he should be a nice Indian girl, not a cheap English one"
Both of us looked at her surprised and confused. I must have looked pretty stupid, hair soaking wet, dye round my ankles, cheap nylon knickers barely covering me up, tights bunching everything up, and a saggy off white bra limping from my shoulders.
She took my hand, and I followed her, through the back of the store, up the stairs. Her husband followed me, silently.
"Now, first a bath."
He ran a bath, while she undressed me, and I was rather unceremoniously cleaned from head to toe, and vigorously dried.
Then the pampering began; I was given a cup of sweet Indian tea, and a bathrobe.
He husband passed over oils and lotions while I sat on the edge of the bath, feeling warm and comfortable. I still did not feel excited, just fussed over.
I could have fallen asleep while first she alone, then another pair of hands rubbed sweet smells into my toes, ankles, legs, thighs...
She looked away as he undid my robe and rubbed the oil into my balls, it stung, and I wanted to cry when the oil was rubbed up over my cissy cock, which shrank immediately.
He did the gown up, but pulled it over my shoulders, and again they both worked the oils into me until I felt soft and smooth all over.
I was taken into another room, all white lace and patterns, and feeling almost light-headed, had to be helped onto the bed, where I sat up, swaying, while they put on the most exquisite ivory underwear I had ever seen. First a finely boned corset was tied around me from the front, making me sit up straight as it dug into me. I almost filled the tiny cups with the sheer clinch of the garment, but fine hands stuffed silk covered pads in to complete the effect. Stockings that felt like soft wet silk were rolled up my thighs and attached clumsily, before a white silken envelope seemed to glide over me, and smooth out my front, so that when I let my hands fall they slipped past a vast smooth white mound where my cock was tucked tightly away.
Next, a white sari was wrapped around my waist, and over my shoulder, tightly again, almost shrinking me into a tiny fragile girl as it was tightly knotted at the back.
This dream carried on, and I sat at the dressing table while she started my make up, henna, paint, bindis, all the time whispering in Asian, I had no idea what she was saying, but it was like music, and I soon felt I wanted to close my eyes.
I woke with a start, and gasped when I saw myself in the mirror -- I could have passed for her daughter, al in white, a rich dark beautiful face, pert breasts, a long flowing sari covering my smooth tummy.
I was stood up, and led into another room, some sort of family room, where the men sat while the women stood.
I was led over to the girls, who started also to talk excitedly, in their own tongue. I felt they were asking me questions, and answering them themselves, but they seemed perfectly happy, and I was quite flattered when they touched my clothes, and inspected my make up and dress, quite clearly complimentary.
After more tea, we were led away from the men, and into a waiting car. It was dark now, and had stopped raining, but I did not care. I should be scared or confused, but it was gentle and charming, so I carried on, believing myself one of these delicate creatures.
We went not very far to a temple, where I was separated from the girls, and waited until the others arrived.
There was some excitement, and though there were only 20 or so people in the hall, it was like a wedding....
I slowly began to realise what was going on -- a wedding? I knew I was the bride? I wondered who the groom was -- I started to cry, feeling I could not do anything for myself anymore, but was quickly led to the front of the hall.
Perhaps sensing that the spell was broken, events followed quickly, and I simply nodded and sniffed while the very business like events took place around me.
I was led out to a different car, although we went back to the shop.
I was led into the bedroom I had been dressed.
Now, my head clearing, I turned to look at my husband.
He was a big man, well built for Asian, with a bristling black beard and strong looking arms.
These same arms pushed me back onto the bed, and tugged at my sari, and I felt as though it was cutting me in two, until it was laid flat beneath me.
"It is part of the ceremony. After tonight I will put your sari out for my family, they will see your blood, and know I have done my duty tonight, and that you were intact."
Before I could react, his weight pressed down on me, and I could not move or talk, or hardly breathe, but the sudden brutal assault I expected did not happen yet, instead I felt him gently hold me, like a rag doll, and felt his breath as he kissed me. I let myself relax, and tried to decide how far this play acting would go -- he knew surely that I was a boy, not a girl? He must know mustn't he?
He began to whisper, in Indian at first, and then English.
"You are my bride. There is no shame in this. We will make love tonight, and tomorrow you will be gone. There is no shame in this, I will have done my fathers bidding."
His hands rubbed all over my body, directly on my soft flesh, and through my tight silky underwear.
I was getting excited, and could feel a straining in my underwear. As if he could read my thoughts, his hands slid to my thighs, and rolled down my tight knickers, so that my cissy cock sprang out, feeling fuller and harder than I ever remembered.
His whole body shook as he turned himself to my cissy cock, and took it gently into his mouth, teasing its whole length, his bristles tickling me at the base of my cock, while its length felt warm and wet in his mouth. I wanted to come so much, but he seemed to be waiting for me, so I began to lift myself off the bed and felt my cock rubbing the back of his throat. He stayed very still, and I started to get more and more excited, fucking his mouth, my knickers clutched in my hand, tugging at them as I came closer and closer to coming, until in one explosion of light and sweat, I exploded in his mouth.
I wanted to sink back, but he quickly turned me over, and I caught just a glimpse of his dark face and wiry beard covered in cissy spunk, before I was facing the pillows, his whole weight on me, his knees digging into my back, and the feeling of great globs of my own spunk dropping onto my tight asshole.
After he wet and watered me he turned around again, and pinned me with his weight, tugging at my corseterie to gain purchase.
Then the pain. Without ceremony I felt his cock pushing at me like an animal, trying to force itself in, at first slipping in the spunky lubricant, and almost impaling me, but as I rose to met hem, with a savage thrust I felt him part me, and continuing to use his weight, and the pull on my torso to stick his enormous hot brown cock into me.
I could not move, and he seemed reluctant to, but at last lifted himself upwards from the bed -- at first I went with him, jammed onto his pole, but at the height of his stroke I felt my asshole relax, and I fell, only to have him savagely fall upon me again, this time it felt deeper still, wedged I me as tough we had been sewn together.
Again he rose his body with a groan, and I was pulled up by my ass muscles as they spasmed, released, dropped me, and then again the white light of pain seared through me, this time finishing with a warmth that began to spread, and more again, this time lifting me not o far so that I could feel his slow withdrawal, and my own cissy cock quivering before he dropped again into me.
After I had relaxed, he sat up a little, pulled at my thighs and I was doggy style, the tip of his cock still keeping me open. I tried to squeeze as he started to really fuck me, and lurched forward, relaxing to fall back now onto him. I dropped my head between my legs and tried to watch as he pounded at me, and felt the warmth in him as he stared to work into a pattern I knew well, of a man about to come.
At once he buried himself again so deeply into me that it was like the first brutal plunge he had made into my tight cissy ass, and I came with a start, my cock jerking violently as his spunk pumped into me, burning me inside, and at last he withdrew slowly, bringing hot slippery come all the way.
Now I wanted more, and pushed myself backwards onto him, again taking in the view, my sweaty cissy body, tied into lace and silk, his balls slapping behind mine, as he grunted and tried to come in my restricting little assfanny again -- I shot another load, this time spraying my face with spunk of my own, and cried as he pulled out of me, and pushed me off the bed.
On the floor I was now on my back, and I reached for him. He fell on me, and his cock began to go limp until I pulled his waist and let it slip into my mouth. Soon he was stiff again, and I guided him into my gaping hole, now hungry for cock.
"You are a good woman, you are good woman" he groaned as he came, wide eyed, crushing me as he slipped into sleep still deep inside me.
The following morning I woke to find the woman who had dressed me proudly inspecting the sheet that had been my sari.
It was well stained with our come, and yes, enough blood to tell the family that he had done his duty.
I breakfasted in our room, and he visited me one more time, to thank me, and I was eventually dressed packed and told to go.
My suit had been cleaned beautifully, and I was given all the clothes I had worn the night before, except the sari, and oils and potions to thank me.
I walked out into the busy business morning, sore, sexy and hungry.
Perhaps I could get home tonight, have a long hot bath and make a few phonecalls.
cathykay is always reading and writing and fantasising and if you like what I like or even think I am not dirty enough then you had better let me know!! cathykay69@hotmail.com to chat to me abuse me and talk dirty, and don't hesitate to pass and post my stories to like minded filthy girls and boys who will tell me what they would do with a boytart like me...