Hi! The following account is true, and I hope it serves as a reminder that being both gay and a cross dresser can be dangerous. But this combination also offers titillating thrills, on the edge, as they say.
I'm 20 now, but three years ago, after three years of being a closet cross dresser, I came out and went public. Pretty _c_o_c_k_tail dresses, _s_e_x_y undies, makeup - the whole nine yards. Now, I must tell you that I am, I'm told, a neat package. Five-two, 105, strawberry blonde, a little curvy, with a to-die-for lightly freckled, smooth, taut behind! My boyfriend of two years, Tim, says I'm pretty as a navel ring, which I don't have, but I'm giving it some thought.
Well, when I was in my senior year in high school, Tim and I were invited to a dance, a rave party. It was a big deal. It was held at the Jism Club, a big renovated warehouse near the waterfront, and the headliners were three of the biggest name rock bands in town. An invite was a prized ticket to status and, a lot of us felt, to the portals of adulthood.
Of course, the afternoon before the Saturday night event, I had my hair done up in a sweep, and did myself up in a saucy crème knee-length flared dress, with garter belt and nylons, plus the spikiest heels I could tolerate. With my come hither pretty face shadowed and tinted just right, I had my hands full (literally) keeping Tim out of my pants before we departed his efficiency for the nine o'clock caper.
The club was huge - cavernous - but it rocked from the opening gong, and needless to say, the chemicals were varied, and very available.
Tim and I sat with another gay couple, and I must say, I turned quite a few heads as the hall swelled and reverberated with the throb and rock of non-stop music. The dance floor was packed at all times. My kind of atmosphere.
Around eleven, I had to pee for the first time (after three pink squirrels), so I slowly made my way across the vast floor to the corner of the building marked 'Restrooms.'
Well, here is where my memory sometimes fails me, but I recall walking down a somewhat dark corridor, following the arrows that pointed to 'Men' and 'Women,' when three guys dressed in Latin-cut suits approached me from the opposite end of the hallway.
"Hey," one of 'em says to me, "you got any stash, sweetheart?"
I walked swiftly forward, making no eye contact, hoping that I'd see someone else - anybody -- real soon! But it appeared I was alone with these guys.
"Hey, cunt," the short one barked, "we think you might have some stuff! Or don't you believe in sharing?"
"I don't know what you mean," I whispered, feeling moisture collecting under my pits.
Suddenly, the three of them grabbed my arms and, with a hand over my mouth, dragged me down an even darker side corridor to a locked door. The short one, who appeared to be 'in charge,' pulled out a pocket light and stuck a key in the lock. I feared then that my pee break would come sooner than planned, and not in the Women's room!
One of the guys, a big hugger, about six-two with muscles bulging under his coat, flicked on a light, revealing a furnished lounge or reception room, with a sofa and chairs, lamps, tables, a pool table, TV -- like a private place for relaxing and kicking back.
They pushed me in to the center of the room.
"Look, pussy," the short one snarled, "we watched your table and we saw the action. We know you have some coke and you better give it up!"
Trembling now, I straightened up to my full 5'2" and looked him in the eye.
"I said I don't have any drugs! Now you better let me out of here or I'll-"
(Here, I realized I was in no position to make demands, so I shut up.
"Well, "said the third guy, a slim, dark fellow with a thin moustache and goatee, "I think we're gonna have to find out, aren't we, honey?"
With that, the big one moved quickly behind me, and before I could react, he grasped me under my armpits and held me before the other two thugs. The short one then produced a small roll of duct tape, ripped off a swath and plastered it over my mouth.
The moustache guy then grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it in one swoop over my head, entangling my arms and smothering me. This action, of course, bared not only my garter belt and nylons, but my matching tiny pale blue Olga bra -- which covered much more nipple than breast!
"Well, let's do a little search, shall we?" I heard the short one say, as I began to get nauseous under the material of my pulled up dress.
A set of fingers pulled up my bra, revealing two small but taut nipples - and not much else! I felt goose pimples rise as the cool room air licked my exposed flesh.
The fingers slapped my little titties and pinched the nipples, hard.
"E-e-um-um," I gurgled (or something like that), as the tape muffled any meaningful sound from me. I struggled to keep from gagging, while fighting for breath under the tent of my dress.
"Kind of small, you think?" said one of them, as the fingers rubbed and tweaked my nipples.
"Look at this," the small one, I think, said. And the next thing I knew, my lacy garter belt was ripped away from my slim waist. I felt the wisps of the belt being pulled down my thighs, dragging my nylons along, down to my knees.
"These things," one of 'em remarked, "were big back in the thirties and forties, I think."
As the big guy held me upright, my dress still covering my head, I felt a wave of embarrassment sweep over me as my bared nipples and belly swayed in his tight grip. I could sense each of them eyeing my petite body, no doubt with lust -- and growing hard-ons!
Next, naturally, my ultra brief pale blue Olga panties were jerked down to join my garter belt and stockings. And, naturally, at this point, things got really frisky.
"Gee-Zuss-Ass-Christ!" one of them exclaimed. "Look at this!"
I sensed my slender, cut five-inch penis hardening, pre-cum coursing up my shaft to my bare glans.
"You _f_u_c_k_in' little _s_h_i_t_ - you're no cunt!" the short one screamed. "God-_d_a_m_n_ you!"
Cool fingers began to caress my shaved, tight little scrotum and _c_o_c_k_, then --
SLAP! - SLAP! - SLAP!
Before I passed out, a sharp, searing, unbearable pain shot up through my genitals to my lower abdomen.
A few seconds later I came to, and as pain engulfed my balls and asshole, I vomited under my gag, dribbling the smelly fluid from the corners of my mouth.
At this point, my holder pulled my dress completely off over my head. Now virtually naked before the goons, a sense of futility, vulnerability and fear shook me to my bones. They hoisted my off the floor and took off my spikes, then ripped off the garter belt and my shredded stockings. My shear panties followed, of course.
"Well," the short guy said, "let's do a search, and maybe administer a little punishment along the way!"
He slapped my nipples again, as the big one dragged me to the sofa and hoisted me face-up onto the cushions. Then, they searched me. The thin one pulled my now half-hard _c_o_c_k_ aside to examine my balls, which he lightly squeezed before lifting them to bare my perineum and anus, which he began probing, deeply, with his index finger. It hurt!
"Wait," said the big fellow, and he flipped me onto my belly, simultaneously parting my thighs to expose my pert little rosebud between my taut buttocks.
Immediately, with two of them holding my arms and lower legs, the short guy started slapping my hairless naked bottom with his open palm.
"M-m-m-m," I groaned, as his hand stung and smacked my cute white behind ...
SPANK-SPANK-SPANK-SPANK-SPANK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!
"Christ, she's - he's turnin' purple!" the skinny one observed. "His ass is purple!"
And I sure felt so, as I struggled in vain against my violators.
Unfortunately, being pinned down on the soft cushions created a seductive friction against my penis and balls, sustaining and increasing my erection, as the slaps rained upon my quivering buttocks. I could hardly believe it, but I felt the sweet milk of semen welling within my vas deferens.
("NO!" I thought, "don't let me come ... not now!")
But come I did (!), with a sudden burst -- and as my cream surged from my compressed _c_o_c_k_ onto the sofa and onto my belly -- I emitted from my gag an unmistakable groan of ... of ... ecstasy.
"Om-m-m-ah -ah- ugh-gh-gh ..."
"Sh- he's comin," the big one observed. He's comin!"
The spanker stopped his furious punishment, and, to my utter humiliation, they watched as my body shook in the uncontrollable spasms of orgasm. The big one tuned me over on my side, facing them, to give them a better view of my throbbing dick as it spurted three more loads onto my belly and public area, my cum dripping and rivuleting onto the cushion.
Meanwhile, my behind started burning from the savage spanking (I later found it was beet-red and welted; for almost a week later, sitting was almost impossible).
But my tormentors didn't pause for long. I was pushed back on my belly in a prone position on the sofa, and after my anus was rimmed and penetrated by the short guy's ... tongue ... he pulled down his pants and briefs, then mounted and entered me with a single, violent thrust!
My muffled screams didn't matter, as he pumped and bounced on and into me with increasing force. I bled. But, also, I soon came -- again! I shouldn't say it, but during this ordeal, I imagined it was Tim on me, spiking my prostate and giving my rectum the intense but pleasurable pain that only his tutored seven-incher can render.
By now, the sofa cushion was soaked and sticky with my cum, so I was lifted briefly to allow them to turn the cushions over. Then the other two _f_u_c_k_ed me over the next hour or so, until, mercifully, I passed out again.
I don't recall who did it or when I was "rescued," but Tim said he got the club owners to search for me when I hadn't returned for nearly an hour. I was semiconscious when they burst in the door, and found me, naked on the cum-soaked sofa, with my clothes strewn about -- and, to my embarrassment -- having "A lot of 'splanin' to do!"
They haven't caught the guys, they say, but I have little doubt that the club people know who they are. Needless to say, I won't be going back to there. Tim and I have decided that I will confine wearing my pretty outfits to our favorite gay haunts.
And, to my amazement, I frequently have him give me, in our at-home love making, sessions of the same pleasure-pain trips that I experienced at the Jism Club.