Like most people I have a real life but at night I come here to DA and live a fantasy life. I love leather and latex, love beautiful women, often fantasize what it would be like to be one and wear sexy dresses. I have a weakness for black, Asian and Latinas and of course for trans girls. I wish I had the talent to do 3D art like many here, I have so many ideas, but alas, I have a little talent in writing stories and with a few dozen stories entertained hopefully around 140 followers. Nothing big but that's fine with me.

It's funny how one day story writing comes to me in a rush and I may finish one in just hours, but often I'm struggling and it can take weeks to finish a story. I even have a number of unfinished stories, some waiting for years already. The most successful ones are triggered be real life actions, a vacation or a business trip, something happens and my fantasy triggers and I have to write it down.

That happened a few weeks ago when I saw this beautiful woman interviewing for a job in my favorite restaurant. We made eye contact for a fraction of a second but the story completely unfolded in my fantasy and that night I finished it in one go. In real life the woman was not hired unfortunately and I didn't expect to ever see her again. Until today...

Today I was sitting by myself having my favorite dish and there she was, standing next to my table, looking lovelier than I remember. No glasses, I figured they were fake at the time. But her leather skirt was all real, loosely swishing around her stunning figure. Mind if I sit down, she asked and without waiting for an answer she sat next to me, not across from me. I was stunned, didn't know what to say, if I were writing a story I would surely reply with a smart quip, but in reality nothing crossed my mind. She didn't mind, she simply started explaining. I saw you a few weeks ago when I interviewed here, you made eye contact and I knew right away you liked my leather pants. In a good way, not like many men who automatically think I'm a whore, just for wearing leather. I nodded without thinking and she continued.

I've been wanting to come back and get to know you, see if I have found indeed a fellow leather lover. Not many of them here in the Midwest. I felt my face coloring but she smiled at that. No worries, she said, I know a lot of it is fantasy, but I bet you would love to put your hand on my butt right now. She took my hand and pulled it on her, my hand flat on her leather skirt, my face getting more red. I still couldn't find any words to say, but the touch on the soft leather made me rub it softly and a moan escaped her mouth. Yes, she whispered, I knew you'd like that, especially after I read that story on DA. You wrote about me, right?

I froze, even more than I was, while my mind raced. How did she know? Should I deny it? She must be guessing this right? I tried to remember what all I wrote in the story, nothing bad I know as it was a happy fantasy, but I ended up totally feminized wearing the leather myself. As if she was reading my mind she said, I bet you wonder right now what it would feel like to wear this skirt yourself, am I right? I suddenly looked at my hand, still on her skirt. I couldn't pull away as her own hand was pushing down on it. I nodded for a second time, my own body betraying me. She smiled, don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

I have a few questions though. In your story why didn't you write I was black? Were you embarrassed by it? I finally found my voice again, upset by her last question, I worship black women, their curves, their wits, their style. It wasn't important for the flow of the story, but I named you Stella right? It was out of my mouth before I realized that I just confirmed that I wrote the story. She knew it too, but her smile remained warm. Why Stella, my name is LaToya. Ooooh, Stella's groove? I nodded again and she was clearly happy to be compared with one of the most beautiful black actresses ever in Hollywood.

She clearly had another question. How did you know I had this skirt? That I bought a leather dress? Have you been following me? How did you know I don't live far from here?

I swallowed. All those things had simply flooded my mind when the fantasy about her was building in my head, but how do you explain that? Of course I didn't follow you, I'm not a stalker. The story just formed in my head, it made sense and it was needed to explain the rest of the story. Maybe our eye contact caused me to pickup some knowledge from you.

Oh my god, did I just say that? I used mind reading as an excuse? 

But now it was her who nodded. Yeah, I've read all your stories, a lot of them talk about being so close that you seem to know what the other person is thinking. Maybe there's some truth in that. It would be nice to have such a connection. Does that explain how you knew I was a trans woman?

Again I was in shock. Was she joking? No way was this perfect woman transgendered. But then again I don't have actual experience with trans women, only my fantasies. And in my fantasies it's exactly that, you couldn't tell they are not naturally born women. I had no idea, I stutter, I mean, it was just my fantasy. As it is mine, she replied, to find a guy who loves leather as much as I do and who doesn't mind me being trans. While saying that she guided my hand to the front of her skirt and I clearly felt a bulge there through the fabric. I couldn't pull away and I felt it throbbing under my touch. She let finally go of me, only to put her hand on my own crotch. I suddenly realized that despite my shock I was getting aroused. And she knew it, giving me a little squeeze.

Oh, something else... That thing that would vibrate in your ass, does that really exist? With an app that gives full remote control? I smiled a bit at that. I'm a writer, I can make things up where I see fit. It was needed to teach me to come without using my male, you know... And I squeezed her dick and felt it twitch. Is that your fantasy, she asked, giving up you manhood? Making it useless and learn how to enjoy sex as a woman? I don't know, I said after a short pause, sometimes I do and sometimes I want to be like you, like the best of both worlds. Both thoughts excite me. 

The best of both worlds? It's often hell you know? You must have talked to other transgenders because I've seen you write about it, the violence we sometimes experience, people simply not acknowledging us, trying to fix us. I have fled the big city because of it. Nobody here knows about it, except you now. I have been very lonely, dating wise, but that's gonna change. She rubbed my crotch again, making her intentions clear. I can't, I said, I'm married you know. Really? With her? And she showed a picture of my wife on her phone. I suddenly had goosebumps all over my body. How... I... I couldn't form a sentence, how the hell did she know? She laughed at my speechlessness. Simple, our waitress is a friend of mine, she actually tried to get me a job here, remember? Last week you paid with your credit card and once I knew your name it's amazing what I could find on the internet about you and your wife.

I started sweating now. My wife knows nothing about my fetishes, well the leather she knows, but she never wants to wear any leather for me. But my stories, my fantasies, she has no idea, that's an instant divorce. And knowing her, she'll make sure everyone finds out, I'll lose my home, my job... My life! All I could say was, are you going to tell her? I don't know, she said, depends on you. If you come with me this afternoon and help me make some of my fantasies come true, I'll keep it a secret between you and I. But.. But I have to get back to work! Just send your boss a message that lunch messed you up and you take the rest of the day off. 

At that point our waitress, her friend, stopped at our table, bringing food and a drink for her. Hey LaToya, any luck? And she winked at me. I think so, LaToya replied, it looks I've finally found a man that shares my interests, right Jack? 

Note to my readers: I have taken the liberty of changing my name, I don't need anyone else finding me out as well.

I nodded, slowly realizing I was at the mercy of this woman. And the waitress saw my hand on her skirt and her hand in my crotch and she smiled, winking now at her friend. Good luck girl, I wanna hear all about it tonight. And she left to help another customer. You better tip her real well, from now on...

We ate for a few quiet minutes. My mind was racing, what was I going to do? I have never cheated on my wife, for real I mean, but this seems about to change, even if I don't want to. And despite this threat why am I still aroused by this beauty? Is it a bit like my stories, where I would never do something voluntarily, but if I'm forced I just go with it? I've already mailed my boss from my phone, so my afternoon will be with LaToya. Is that enough for her, or will she want more? 

I paid for the both of us and tipped the waitress with an extra twenty. We walked to my car while she pulled me into her. Any chance we have I want your hand on my leather butt. If I wasn't so scared of what she could do to my life I would actually enjoy her boldness. I wish my wife would do this. I let her in on the passenger side and got behind the wheel. In a fluid motion her hand disappeared in my pants and she grabbed my dick which started reacting instantly. Drive, she said, your dick will be your guide. And she pumped me either left or right to show which street to take or straight to stay on the road. This lasted only five minutes before we reached her apartment and by now I was hard. We walked inside with my hand rubbing her behind which she appreciated.

Once inside she took me straight to the bedroom and she made me take off all my clothes. She kept her's on and sat down on the bed. Listen, she said, from your stories I know you like a slow buildup, but I don't have time for that. My fantasy is someone who worships me, my body, my leather and my cock but right now I just need to cum. Use your mouth and don't mess up my clothes, so no spilling if you know what I mean.

I knew exactly what she meant but I was scared to death. Writing about this stuff is one thing, but doing it, being forced to do it is something else. I would never force myself on a woman but she is essentially forcing herself on me. The trouble however is that some part of my brain wants this. The writer in me wants the experience so I can tell better stories in the future. The smell of her skirt is calling me, it's real leather, not some cheap faux one. And then I give in, on my knees, my face between her legs under her skirt I smell deeply. The leather scent is overwhelming but it's mixed with all girly fragrances. Her alluring perfume, the flowery soap she used on her skin and a very female wetness in her panties.

Her cock is pulled back between her legs and when I pull the fabric aside it flops into my face, the tip very wet. It's big, bigger than my own, as are her full balls. I guess what they're saying about big black cocks has some truth, even if it is attached to an otherwise one hundred percent female. I see not one hair, thank goodness, as a matter of fact I can't believe how smooth it is and how it doesn't even resemble a male dick. I lick the tip and taste the wetness and I'm not repulsed by it. I have tasted a few pussies and this is not so far off. I can do this! With one hand on the outside of her skirt, the other tickling the folds of her ballsack it grows towards my face and I simply open my mouth and take it in. I have no idea what I'm doing but I hear her moan. I suck a bit of vacuum and it comes deeper in my mouth, then I release air and it moves back. No way will it all fit in but I move my hand now around the base and start pumping it in the same motion as my sucking. I must be doing something right because her sounds become more urgent. I realize she's quickly getting to the point of no return and I taste more of the precum leaking out. And then I brace myself as she's reaching an orgasm. At the moment that the first squirt comes out she pulls the skirt away and I look her straight in the eyes, a bliss on her face. But I also notice the phone in her hand filming me while I take her load. 

It is a lot and I don't dare to swallow, it's like thick slime and the taste is funky but not as bad as I had worried about. Finally she gives a last squirt and she pulls me up under my chin. She forces her mouth on me and pushes her tongue inside. Her saliva mixes in and it gives a fresh taste in my mouth. She sucks cum out into her own mouth and suddenly my tongue is in hers as well. Her tongue is much longer as well than mine, and stronger, but it is incredibly erotic. I think I wrote about this in my fantasy as well, but I can't remember. I submit to her completely and simply enjoy our tongue play, our mixed fluids, the cum moving between our mouths and being swallowed away slowly. All my worries gone I enjoy these minutes of being one with her.

When we finally pull away I see tears in her eyes. I'm sorry, she whispers, sorry for forcing you to do this, sorry for filming it. You made my fantasy come true but it was so much better than I anticipated. So much better than what you wrote about me. I will cherish this moment forever.

Sorry for scaring you, I never planned to tell your wife, but now I promise you, I never will. I just hope that maybe, just maybe we can do this some more one day, just for fun, just to get this feeling back.

I didn't know what to say, I just pulled her into me, my hands on her leather, trying to rub it on my own hard cock. She suddenly understands and she pulls away for a moment only to return with another skirt in her hands, motioning for me to step in. I do and she pulls it up on me, clearly a bigger size than her own. But when she zips it up it fits around me tightly and she pushes me now back on the bed. She has clearly more experience in this, my dick fully in her mouth, her long tongue wrapped around it, the vacuum causing my hard-on to grow even harder.  For a moment I sense a sharp pain as her teeth must have nicked me, but the leather wrapped around me and the erotic experience from only a few minutes ago, and I can't even warn her before I unload into her mouth. She's milking me for all I've got and finally her face appears from under my skirt and she kisses me again, a huge grin on her face. The taste is less than her cum but mixed with our saliva our kiss is again highly erotic.

We finally crash on the bed, she spoons me tight and I feel suddenly very submissive. Her cock, her tongue, her curvy body, her mind, everything about her seems stronger than me and I feel strangely okay with that. She kisses me softly in my neck and I smile at how sweet it feels. Then reality kicks in...

I'm a married man and I enjoy laying in bed with another woman, a trans woman at that, after having sex with her, twice, sort of. Or is a blowjob not really having sex? It's not intercourse. But getting a blowjob from another woman probably tips the infidelity balance and giving one sounds very gay. Yet I can't wait to do it again. How screwed is that?

My smile now turns to devastation and she asks, what's the matter? I just realized I cheated on my wife. But I forced you, she replied, even if she finds out she can't blame you. Maybe, I said, but if you forced me then why am I enjoying this so much? Me too, she whispered, glad with my confession, me too. We're both silent for a while, thinking what to say next. This would be the happiest day of my life, hadn't I been married. But I love my wife, even though she doesn't share any of my fetishes. And I feel bad for enjoying being with another woman that shares many of my fantasies.

She breaks the silence first. You know, technically I'm still a man, so if she ever asks you if there is another woman, you can deny it without lying. I chuckle at that. Apart from that thing under your skirt you're more woman than she. For now, I don't like it, but I simply won't tell her, keep us a secret, she may never find out. And if she does, she says softly, at least you have a place to go to. And she gestures her arm around, indicating her apartment. I'm thankful for that thought and kiss her deeply again until she moans.

You know, she says after we sit up, we still have a few hours left. Would you like to try some more of my leather? Or latex? Yeah, why didn't you mention latex in your story about me, it would have been so true. It wasn't necessary for the story, I reply, the leather was what bound us together, latex would just confuse things for the reader. But I like the fact we share another fetish. What do you have for me to try?

In less than a minute she comes back with some sort of a corset dress in thick formfitting latex. I had to step in and it was strapless starting under my armpits all the way down over my butt as a short tube dress. But then she starts tightening the laces on the back, first compressing my waste then moving both up and down. I realize the dress has built in fake breasts, not super big but not small either. It looks very realistic under the dress cover.

LaToya starts a second round of even more tightening and I get trouble breathing. Relax, she says, you can handle this, it's shape wear and it's designed to give you an hour glass figure. But you were right in your story, you need to work on that gut. And she finished with one more round and I can breath nor bend but when I look in the mirror a gasp escapes. I have curves!

You can wear a dress over this or just a skirt or just leave it as it is, if you don't mind a bit of draft. I turn a bit so I can see my back in the mirror and I can see my butt crack through the laces. I also notice my side profile and I feel my dick stir by the look of my breasts sticking out as well as my butt. But no bulge is visible under the thick rubber. It is free to move between my legs but pointing down to the ground.

I wore this a lot when I started transitioning, she explains. The curves gave me confidence and it showed me where to target my diet and exercises. I can help you as well with that, you will look much fitter. Don't worry, I won't turn you into a woman, like in your story. Just a little help with cross dressing. She helped me back in my skirt, which almost felt loose around my waste now but my hips kept it up. She pushed me back on the bed as she started pulling boots over my feet, all the way up to my thighs. This will hide a lot of hair, she said, as she pulled me up into standing position as there was no way I could sit. I have tried a pair of my wife's heels which she bought too big but for some reason never returned, and I practiced walking in them if she wasn't home. That experience definitely helped with these boots. I can only make small steps but the skirt swishes nicely as I walk. I'm getting more and more turned on.

Listen, she asks, you want to try a wig and a bit of makeup? Nothing permanent, she quickly adds. I nod and have her work on me, clearly performing magic on my face as it becomes more and more feminine. This would be much easier if you had less stubble, she says. And on that I know my wife agrees, she has suggested multiple times already I get my face treated with a laser. I know a place where you can do it, LaToya says, and they offer packages for full body treatment. I think I can convince them to offer you a reduced price if you go full body and I have a feeling your wife will agree on that. I nod, I think she's right, if the price is right. 

Apparently we're planning future sessions already, both wanting to experience more. The thought gets me hard and I see her bulge as well. She suddenly pushes me back on the bed again and fiddles with something under my skirt. And suddenly my cock is sticking out straight up through an opening in the corset dress that must have been hidden there somewhere. And she climbs on top of me with her crotch in my face and she takes my monster in her mouth. Her even bigger monster is only an inch from my own mouth and in seconds I take her in, completing our sixty nine position. I can hardly move in the tight dress and under her weight but I can push up my butt slightly forcing me deeper into her mouth. She returns the favor and for a minute we suck loudly on each other's member. I think we both try not to come first and I'm afraid I'm losing that game. But when I finally come she comes as well, filling my mouth up. I'm better prepared now on what to expect and I savior the taste in my mouth without swallowing. She did the same thing apparently and then she's turning around. No way can I get up to kiss her so she pulls me on my side and lays next to me before she pushes her painted lips on my painted lips. We share our double load, mixing it, tasting our lipsticks, and very slowly our mouths empty out.

I can feel my sweat running under the rubber, I'm definitely losing some weight here. She's making some pictures of me, of us, we look good together. But finally she's taking my dress off of me, she removes the wig and makeup and we move into the shower where she fully cleans me. No traces are left but a small mark at the bottom of my cock hidden by my balls. She shows me the marker she used when I thought her teeth had nicked me, it looks like both the male and female symbol combined with a cross at the bottom and an arrow sticking out of a heart rather than a circle. Transgender love, she simply said. I should have asked before I put it on you, but I was too eager to use it for the first time. If you want you can mark me too, that's only fair. Or some other tattoo if you like.

I knew the answer instantly. Can you tattoo a red heart around your nipples? Nothing big. She nods, I'll get it done, I like that idea. I smile, it will be beautiful around your nice fat nipples. I haven't even had a chance to suck on them. Next time, she says, and I nod. I guess we'll meet again. And I won't be forced then. I will have some serious thinking to do if this should continue or should I stop it now?