Cross-dressing

Laura’s production of a horny gasp came in response to the massive body of precum that shot out of Ian’s pisshole to fly straight ahead, with the splat produced when it landed on the floor being so loud and so sharp that it would have drowned out her gasp if not for the fact that it’s trajectory had been so long that she had already finished it by the time that the clear, sticky fluid was broken up against the hard wooden surface of the floor.

“I take it you won’t mind that,” Laura said, stretching her fingers after the volatile contraction of his cock at the ejaculation of such a large welter of prejizz had caught her off-guard and resulted in her involuntarily letting his meaty cockend slip from her grasp.

“Honestly, I don’t know if it’s that or if it’s just being around you,” Ian replied, truthfully. While the outrageous things that Laura was in the habit of saying certainly did go some ways towards explaining his tendency to blast various objects in their surroundings with precum, he’d long since begun to suspect that he’d still be doing that even if she’d been mute.

Laura’s response to Ian’s words came in the form of her turning around towards him, his heavy cum-tube twitching at the sight of the salacious smile that she was sporting, and as he saw her come round in front of him and turn towards him whilst retrieving the phone from between her mountainous, toffee-tanned tits, he grabbed hold of the towel where it was now hanging over the base of his steely fuckpiece and threw it past her.

The two of them gasped in unison when his cock disappeared in between her tits, her hard, tiny nipples poking against his chest while the vividly purple crown of his fuckpiece stood up above her cleavage, with her free hand caressing his back as they leaned in for a kiss, her pink tongue darting into his mouth while the wetness seeping out of her tight slit began to coat his beefy balls.

Realizing what was about to happen as he wrestled tongues with Laura, Ian suddenly broke off the kiss and let out an enigmatic “Mind the gap,” as he pulled his head back.

“Wha…” Laura managed to get almost to the end of her monosyllabic question before the blast of precum rocketing itself upwards right in front of her face prompted her to let slip another horny gasp, her body recoiling from what she was seeing so that her boobs were pressed tighter against his chest and her pussy came enticingly close to accidentally swallowing up one of his heavy testes.

Ian’s smile grew wider when he watched how Laura kept her head turned towards the patch of precum that had attached itself to the ceiling, not dropping her chin back forwards until she had had one gob of the translucent break loose from the ceiling and fall down to splatter itself against her forehead.

“Darling,” Laura purred after another kiss, her expression suggesting that she certainly didn’t object to how Ian’s hands were now fondling her juicy ass, squeezing and cupping her buttocks as though he had yet to accept that they could be that firm and that full, “while I’d love to stay here like this and see if your nimble tongue and pounding balls can’t make me cream myself, we are sort pressed for time.”

“That old bald cheater, Time,” Ian said the first thing that popped up inside his head.

“Hmm,” Laura adopted a inquisitive countenance that Ian considered to be absolutely adorable, and he tensed up for a moment as her expression alone very nearly led him to produce another gush of precum, “it’s not Shakespeare, is it?”

“It’s Ben Jonson,” Ian explained, “though I can’t for the life of me remember which play.”

“Yes honey, it’s obvious that you spent your lunch contemplating the classics,” Laura’s breezy reply was followed by her removing her hand from his back and bringing it around to softly caress the angry business-end of his mammoth fuckmast.

“Not really, no…” Ian confessed, soon feeling a pang of disappointment when Laura snaked herself free of his grasp and allowed his turgid cock to come slipping out from between her huge knockers, though it began to fade away as soon as he watched her walk across the floor, swaying her delectable posterior behind her, and bend forwards to pick up the towel.

“Damn it Laura,” Ian breathed out as he stared at her exposed pussy and asshole while she retrieved the towel from the floor, “don’t tempt me like that.”

“I literally can’t help myself,” Laura offered as an excuse for her behaviour as she straightened back again and turned towards him, blocking his view of her magnificent body by holding the towel up in front of her.

“Oh, and Ian,” Laura went on as she left him conflicted as to whether he ought to be frustrated or aroused by her having wrapped the towel around her, “Just so you know… I made sure to give my pussy and asshole a thorough cleaning, in case you might want to use your tongue on them.”

“There, I think its outlived its usefulness,” Laura opined as she undid the towel, now soaked by the precum that had jetted out of Ian’s cumslit, and allowed it to fall to the floor.

“Laura,” Ian felt his cock hurdle itself about in front of him on its own volition, “do I have to pick an outfit for you?”

“Oh, so you like me like this?” Laura purred out her question as she took a long stride towards Ian, her smile becoming more vivid as she saw his gaze fall upon the puffy lips of her bald sex.

“Now you see, darling,” Laura went on as she took the tip of Ian’s gargantuan fuckpiece in her hands, her phone resting between her bulging tits once more, and pushed it down towards her gleaming quim for a second before pressing it ahead of her until it was in contact with his chest and stomach, thereby allowing her to steal a quick kiss before continuing to talk, “as long as you insist on walking around absolutely naked, leaving a trail of panting, drooling sluts in your wake, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to wear some outrageously slutty collection of skimpy garments just to bring our collective standard of dress up a little.”

“Laura…”

“You want to spin me around and fuck me silly, don’t you?”

“More than I want my next breath.”

“Well,” Laura sounded like she was planning something, “I’ve been considering proving to you that you’re not just a huge cock to me by having us go a few days without sex.”

“How about it?” Laura seemed to take a certain amount of enjoyment from seeing the whites of Ian’s eyes seemingly grow bigger, “Do you think you could handle a week without having your balls balanced on my chin while your big, meaty cockhead drools straight into my stomach? Or without having me scream out your name at the top of my lungs as you pound my tight asshole, or not having me provide some cross-eyed commentary on how fucking colossal your cock feels when it’s rammed up my gushing slit?”

“Nggg…”

“Is that a no?”

Ian nodded.

“Excellent,” Laura’s face glowed from the smile she sported, “Now, what do you think the odds are that I can wrap my hand around your cock without having it explode?”

“Only one way to find out…”

“You’re so empirical,” Laura turned round and took up a spot by Ian’s side.

“Damn,” she let out a few seconds later, as a comment on the fact that while Ian had produced a ragged groan in response to her fingers wrapping themselves round his cockhead, she wasn’t currently finding herself looking down a jizz-blasted corridor.

“Sorry,” Ian excused his lack of a voluminous cumshot as he and Laura began to move down the corridor, the steady jutting of his member being kept under control by her hand, though she simply wasn’t strong enough to keep it completely still even if she had wanted to.

“No apology’s needed honey…” Laura assured him, “Incidentally, I’ve begun planning our winter holiday.”

“You don’t think you’ll have become bored with me by then?” Ian’s remark was meant as a joke at least to some extent, but behind it was also his continued bafflement that a woman like Laura would express such an adamant desire for him.

“Oh honey,” Laura sounded both happy and as though he’d just asked the dumbest question ever recorded in all of human history, “I fully expect you to help me shock the nurses at our retirement home.”

Not knowing quite what to say in response to that, Ian instead acted on the realization that actions speak louder than words by releasing a plume of prejizz that rained down ahead of them.

“Baby…” Laura let Ian know through the aroused character of her throaty moan that she still loved the way in which he’d spray out prejizz like that.

“Returning to our winter holiday,” Laura picked up their conversation after a few moments of silent walking down the corridor, her right hand holding his cock and his left one groping her ass, “I was thinking Scotland…”

“Scotland?” Ian asked, being rather confounded.

“Stay with me on this,” Laura pleaded cheerfully, “we’ll find a cottage up there, the weather will be awful and there won’t be any sights to visit, so we’ll just have to stay indoors and think of ways to keep ourselves busy…”

“There might be a television,” Ian suggested.

“I’m sure that you can come up with some way of trashing it,” Laura pumped her hand back a few inches down the length of Ian’s cock.

A comfortable silence followed, one that lasted all the way until they’d reached a door which Laura then pushed open with the one hand that wasn’t giving Ian’s throbbing cock one slow, loving stroke after another, and led him into a bedroom that was lavishly furnished in a style which struck Ian, who wasn’t a diehard fan of interior design, as being sort of inspired by late 17th century France, with a grand bed on which several outfits looked to have been laid out.

Staring at Laura’s back as she slipped away from him and hurried over to a nearby dresser, retrieving something from it which she then clutched in her right hand as she scampered back towards him.

Not asking what was in her hand, Ian instead allowed Laura to step up in front of him and show it to him, and she did so by placing the minuscule baby blue thong which she’d picked up over his cockend, drawing a very deep breath as she saw how the garment’s thin front was stretched out over the fist-sized crown like a tongue of cloth.

“There,” Laura finally breathed out, “now I think I’ve provided you with some small amount of modesty.”

“A very small amount,” Ian opined as his precum began to soak through the flimsy fabric, feeling satisfied by the giggle that Laura then released.

“So,” Laura asked after a kiss in which she’d seemed intent to fit her tongue down his throat, “are you ready to be my fashion advisor?”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded and took a step forwards.

“I’d best stand back,” Laura decided, not realizing that she’d given Ian an idea by adding “I wouldn’t want to shoot your cum all over my clothes before I’ve even put them on.”

Stepping up to the bed, Ian began to examine the four outfits that were placed on it about a foot apart from each other, starting off with the one furthest to his right. That particular outfit was exclusively composed of items made from black, glossy latex, from the combined stiletto-heeled boots and stockings to the garter belt that kept it in place to the microskirt that looked as though it would barely cover half of her ass and the cupless bra that was intended to frame rather than conceal her huge, protruding boobs. The last ingredient in the fetish ensemble was a pair of fingerless, elbow-length gloves, and Ian found the whole thing to be very smart.

Next up was Laura’s idea of what a beach bunny ought to look like. Since there were no shoes or boots laid out at this spot, Ian concluded that she was intending to wear the skimpy bikini top and bottom along with the stripper sandals. Coloured in a darker shade of blue than the thong which was currently decorating his cockhead, the bikini was splendidly minuscule; Ian wasn’t sure that the bottom could really be referred to as a thong, since that would entail that it actually had a front rather another string, while the tiny triangular patches of dark blue cloth that were intended to cover her nipples would have a hard time doing so if the strap holding the top in place would be stretched as tight around Laura’s back as he guessed it would. To go with the bikini was a pair of slim purple-tinted shades that were placed above the teeny bottom.

The third outfit that Laura had laid out for Ian to examine consisted of an undersized black cotton t-shirt with the bottom half of it having been removed at some point and the remains of it being adorned with the phrase “Hard Cock Café” around a huge, angry cockhead that served as a stand-in for the circle, a lavishly tiny black thong that would either cling to Laura’s pussy like a second skin or disappear up between its swollen lips, and black satin legwarmers that would most likely be stretched taut around her firm calves.

The fourth and final outfit was a pair of faux black leather leggings, though the fact that they weren’t soaked with his jizz told Ian that they weren’t them same ones that Laura had worn earlier, and a strapless white boob tube that struck Ian as being likely to burst wide-open if she was to jump up and down whilst wearing it.

Ian knew that they were pressed for time and that picking out his favourite from amongst his four options would be a nigh-on impossible task, so he chose one more or less at random and announced that he was finished with a: “Laura, you know you have a way with words…”

“You mean that you want me to let my dirty mouth run and see what kind of slutty things might come out of it?” Laura asked.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Well, the most obvious thing that I can think of straight away is that I’d absolutely fucking love it if you were to pin my back to the wall and have me wrap my long legs around you… that way I’ll be able to taste your lips while you pump your monstercock in and out of pink pussy.”

“Though I’d better warn you that if you blow your load inside my quim, I’ll probably cum so hard that you’ll have to go find some smelling salt, or just cockslap me back to consciousness.”

“Thanks,” Ian let out before twisting his glans towards the outfit which he’d chosen as his favourite.

“Fuck!” Laura cried out in astonishment a few seconds later, not having expected Ian to send the baby-blue thong flying down onto the outfit of his choosing, with it being followed close behind by a deluge of prejizz that left both it and the collection of slutty clothes to which it had been glued absolutely drenched.