Iwannabefemanizedfully - Untitled

I want to be on this journey so bad

“Take them off.” he said into your ear, his voice a heavy growl full of authority.  Wordlessly you obeyed, slipping your panties down hips and letting them drop to your ankles. “Good girl…” he rumbled.  Already his hands were exploring your bare thighs, pushing your short black dress up so that you bared all for him.  You didn’t even know his name but really you didn’t care.  All that was important now were those strong hands grasping at your ass, sliding up your thighs, claiming your body as his own.  You were already whimpering when he pushed his first finger passed your quivering outer lips and soon you were writhing around that digit while he finger fucked you.  No, while he prepared you.  Even in your lusty haze you could hear the sound of his zipper as it was worked down and his pants opening.  Soon he gave his next command. “Bend over.” You wouldn’t disobey him even if you wanted to.  Even if your submission meant the sacrifice of everything you held dear.  You didn’t just want this now.  You needed it.  As soon as you felt his bulbous mushroom head begin to line against your pussy you bit down hard on your bottom lip.  Your night was just starting…

Lending a Hand, Part 1 [MF] [Long]

Long-time reader, first-time poster. Hoping to make this a regular thing so long as people enjoy! Standard “good stuff starts here: _______” disclaimer applies.

(Upfront admission: this happened long enough ago that some aspects—a.k.a. dialogue—have gotten a little fuzzy. As such, I’ve taken a few liberties to make things read a bit more naturally. But rest assured, the recollections themselves are all true.)

I was in my senior year of university, and my course load was light. Being the go-getter that I am, I decided to get a job—specifically, one that would look good on my CV. After turning over a few rocks and talking to a few friends, I wound up getting a gig with the students’ union. Good work, cool people, and decent pay. What more could a 22-year-old want?

At first, I was sweet on one of the execs—a tall drink of “please sit on my face” named Tessa. Beyond being cute and easy to talk to, she was also the one I worked with the most. But after a couple of weeks, I found myself getting on really well with one of the other VP’s: a curvy redhead named Janice who was as bubbly as she was cool. Played in a band, told funny jokes, and rocked a delightfully tight and faded Velvet Underground t-shirt like it was going out of style.

Since I’d started at the end of May, most of the summer was spent planning the frosh week festivities: booking talent, organizing sponsors, signing up volunteers… that sorta thing. And all throughout, I continued doing my gosh darn best to endear myself to Tessa and Janice. I mean, why not, right? Worst case, I get two stellar references; best case… well, the jury was still out on that one.

September finally rolled around and frosh week went off without a hitch. By the time we got to the final day, everybody involved was buzzing from the combination of success, booze and drugs that had permeated the festivities. A B-level performer (reasonably popular amongst college students at the time) was our Friday night headliner, and man, I’ll tell ya: while some celebrities might be oversized knobheads, he was not. Genuinely great guy who was as nice off the stage as he was talented on it. I can say this with certainty because, after his performance was done and he and his band had helped us tear the stage down, he invited me, Tessa, Janice, and the rest of the team out to one of the bars to celebrate with him and the band. Awesome!

Fast-forward a couple of hours and there we are, drinking and chilling with some seriously cool dudes. Everybody’s having a great time. Out of nowhere, Tessa comes up and wraps her arms around me.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I hope you know there’s no way we could’ve pulled this off without you.”

“Awww,” I said, returning her hug with one of my own. “It was an absolute pleasure. Working with you guys has been amazingly fun.”

You know how sometimes, even if you weren’t intending for anything to happen, things do? And oftentimes it’s the littlest thing that ends up being the difference between a best-night-ever kinda night an otherwise forgettable one? Tessa’s perfume was that thing. One moment we were hugging as friends. Then I breathed in. Instant erection. Now, I know it’s cliched to say on /r/gonewildstories at this point, but I am bigger than your average bear. By a fair bit, actually. And it didn’t take long for Tessa to figure that out, because by the time I was red in the face and stammering out an apology, she was waving it off as though it wasn’t a thing. We laughed, got another drink, and tried making small talk before deciding to head back to our table where everyone else was. Except right as we were about to turn the corner into the room they were in, Tessa grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bathroom.

She was on a mission. By the time I had both of my feet inside the single-occupant room, she’d already locked the door, set both of our drinks down on the sink, and started undoing my pants.

“Holy shit,” I said, doing my best to sum up the situation.

“This is what being a good guy gets you,” she said as she sunk to her knees and traced by cock from root to tip with her tongue. Then she smiled at me—just long enough for her eyes to tell me that this was going to be one to remember—and took as much of me into her mouth as she could.

My head fell back and my fingers tangled themselves in her hair, and it took everything I had in me not to cum right then and there. She was that good. Up and down, swirling around the top, playing with my balls: she knew exactly what she was doing and when to do it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groaned. She responded with a moan of her own.

I looked down to see the lower half of her face covered in saliva and pre-cum, her left hand cradling my balls, and her right hand tucked into the crotch of her jeans.

Game on.

I hauled her up off the floor and planted my lips on hers. Our first kiss was as sloppy as the blowjob had been, but easily twice as passionate. Our tongues slithered around one another and tied themselves into knots, and while they did, our hands did everything they could to keep me hard and her wet. After 20 or 30 seconds of the most intense kissing I’d experienced at that point in my life, she pulled back, looked me square in the eye and said, “Fuck me.”

The sink had just enough counter space for me to hoist her up and seat her on it. And as luck would have it, it was the absolute perfect height for fucking. So perfect that I didn’t even have to bend my knees as I eased myself into her for the first time.

“Oh fuck,” she said, grasping my head and pulling me into her neck as I went deeper. “Oh Jesus fuck. Go slow, go slow.”

I’m a big fan of purposeful thrusts. You feel more, they’re more sensual, and every amazing moment seems to last forever. So when Tessa begged me to go slow, I grabbed the back of her head, pulled her forehead into mine, and did just that. Innnnnnnnnnnnn and ooooooooooout. Innnnnnnnnnnn and ooooooooooout. After a couple of minutes of this, her pussy cream was all over my cock and all I could see were the whites of her eyes.

“Uh uh,” I said. “Look at me.”

Once she refocused her gaze, the biggest smile I’d ever seen immediately spread across her face.

“This is so fucking good,” she said. “I can’t believe how fucking good this feels.”

Innnnnnnnnnnnn and oooooooooout.

“I know,” I replied. “You have the most amazing pussy.”

“Oh my God. You’re so deep. I can't—oh God.”

“No, no. Look at me. Look me in the eye.”

“You are so fucking hot. This is so fucking hot. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“We are. You and me, fucking in a bathroom. My big cock sliding in and out of your tight, wet pussy. We’re fucking doing it, Tess. And it feels amazing.”

“Yeeesssss,” she moaned.

Despite being lost in the moment, I had the sense to realize that we’d been in there long enough for a decent line to have likely formed on the other side of the door. So I started thrusting faster.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

In and out in and out in and out in and out in and out.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she squealed. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Yes, baby. Yes,” I said. “I’m close, too.”

“Don’t you dare pull out.”

I didn’t. A few more strokes and she was squirming all over my rod, biting my shoulder and letting out the hottest, most adorable staccato squeals. That’s what put me over the edge. After a couple more strokes, I thrust into her as hard and deep as I could, bear hugged her with all my might, and came. Oh man, did I ever cum. I don’t recall how long my orgasm lasted, but I do remember that after we regained our senses, kissed a little and laughed a bit more, a stready stream of cum waterfalled out of Tessa’s red pussy as I pulled out.

“Well that was fun,” I said, pulling my pants up.

“Fun? That was fucking amazing!” she responded.

We spent a minute or two tidying ourselves and cleaning our puddle of fluids off the floor (what? We’re Canadian). When we were done, we agreed that she’d leave first, and that I’d follow a few seconds later, mile-high-club-style. Another quick kiss and she was out the door.

I looked myself in the mirror and smiled like an idiot before opening the door and stepping out. Luckily, there wasn’t a single person waiting to use the loo. Bonus.

Beer in hand, I rounded the corner and made my way toward our companions. Apparently we’d been in the bathroom longer than I thought, because despite having arrived with 15 or so people, there only appeared to be five or six left: our celebrity matchmaker/musician friend, a couple of his bandmates, Tessa, and Janice.

I took a seat opposite the girls and smiled at them before turning to the guest of honour. As much as I wanted to cozy up to Tessa and convince her to make round two a reality, I knew well enough to play it cool. For now. So instead, I fawned over Mr. Rockster. Now normally, I’d be hella excited to shoot the shit with the guy. I owned most of his albums and considered myself a genuine fan. But the more we talked, the more I felt eyes boring into me from the other side of the table. So the next time I took a sip of my pint, I casually looked across to see what was up.

Tessa, still wearing her biggest-ever smile, was chatting up the bass player. But Janice… was staring right at me.

submitted by /u/GunghoZero [link] [comments] Source: http://bit.ly/2AB0DHc View Free Adult Stories Daily For More!

Spooky Season -Werewolf anon

After the trauma of birthing my litter of... pups... alone... two months ago, I spent hours hunting down my one night stand, needing answers. It wasn't as difficult as I expected, turns out he was looking for me, too. We meet behind the bar we met in, at his request. He asked about 'The kids' as soon as he saw me.. He knew?? How? His grin is unsettling, and he nods in approval when informed that he's the father of four healthy werepups, and I get the gut feeling that he must have actually planned to knock me up. I carefully broach the subject of support, and the fact that I have no idea how to raise kids, let alone babies that spend a weekend a month feisty and covered in fur. He agrees to support me and the babies financially as well as he can, but has no interest in the fatherhood part, on one condition: that I sleep with him at least once every six months, no condom, one to two days before the full moon.

Hello, Werewolf Anon! Are you the same anon who wrote about the one-night stand with a guy who's secretly a werewolf, who shockingly gave birth to 4-6 werewolf pups one night during a full moon? If not, that's totally cool, but I'm realizing now that I cannot find that particular post anywhere on the blog and I'm wondering if Tumblr ate it.

Sigh. Goddammit, Tumblr. Let me know if that's the case and I'll get it reposted.

Finding out that you've most likely been purposefully bred is one thing. Finding out that he's eager to keep doing it? That's gotta be something else entirely. He knows that you'll need his support to help raise all of those babies, and he's backed you into a corner-- you'll take his cock raw on a monthly basis, or you'll have to figure out how to make ends meet with four hungry mouths to feed.

But is it really that much of a hardship? You can't help but recall how incredible it felt when he fucked you, pounding you in ways that left you begging and screaming for more throughout that fateful night. One evening of incredible sex a month to leave you and your kids in relative financial comfort seems like a small price to pay. And while getting crammed full of seed once every 30 days might be playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette with your ovaries, you probably won't get pregnant again.

Right?

(A Spooky Season response.)

Yes he does. If only I could find a man like that

Ontario Canada Trenton area!! Cum get me!!

50’s male large boned 6’2” Could be perfect Amazon Queen for the right guy!!

When will I find a man that I can devote my life to & will turn me into his Amazon Queen. Put me in panties,inject me with his cum & estrogen take my testicles, give me implants if my breasts don’t grow enough, put me on a strict diet & exercise routine, remove my clittie & give me a vagina so he can have a 3rd hole I can pleasure him with unless 2 holes & a permanently soft clittie is good enough for him.

Fully Femanize me to be your 6’2” Amazon Queen

i cannot get enough of your all the way through content, would you ever write more? like maybe being fucked by a ghost whose cock can pass through things at will, allowing them to fuck your cunt and stretch open your cervix only to keep going until you feel the head coming out of your mouth. and maybe its cock is long enough that it can get itself off without ever pulling out of your throat, leaving you filled completely and totally suffocated.

idk just the idea of all the way thru that you can do again and again instead of just,, u know,,, dying

Ooh, this is a nice idea <3

Maybe I end up fooling around a little too much with "ritual" objects that claim to "have a connection to the afterlife". That stuff isn't real, right? It's all too easy for me to dismiss all of it, especially when it ends up having absolutely zero immediate effect on me. Of course, that's just hubris on my part, assuming the incorporeal can't effect me. It's not like I could reasonably fend it off.

I learn my lesson the hard way in public. I gasp when something ice-cold prods at my cunt beneath my clothes, which earns me a few concerned stares from passers-by; I brush off their worry and hurry to the nearest restroom, trying not to panic as my pussy is again caressed. I lock myself into a single-stall and hurriedly take off my pants to figure out what the hell is going on, only to be greeted by...nothing. I can't see anything that might be causing this. Just as I figure out what's going on, the ghost messing with me decides to take its mischief even further, which almost makes me moan.

I manage to hold myself back and just hurry home as fast as I can without acting suspicious, which is more difficult than it seems when there's something chilling me from the inside out. All the while, the ghost is spreading me more and more, pushing deeper and deeper inside me with slow purpose, and I can do nothing to stop it as I fumble with the front door of my house, slamming it closed behind me. As soon as I manage to get it locked, I stumble to my bedroom for at least a little bit of comfort as the ghost reaches my cervix.

I lean over my bed, as though actually presenting my cunt to a partner despite being fully-clothed. The ghost presses up against my cervix for a few moments, but it doesn't feel like it's genuinely having trouble; quite the opposite, in fact. The ghost knows exactly what it can do to me, and it's all too glad to do it. It follows through when it pops through my cervix with little resistance, making me whine loudly as it fills my womb with hardly any effort.

Still, it pushes deeper, further, paying no mind to my moaning or squirming. The chill of its cock sends shivers up my spine, and so does the feeling of having my womb filled by something I can't even see. It doesn't even stop at my womb, the freezing cold of its body creeping further and further into mine, and my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation, toes curling, knees shaking. The only thing I can do is grab useless handfuls of the blankets as the ghost violates me more thoroughly than I've ever been violated before.

The ghost's plans reach a climax when something spreads my throat open. I can still breathe, thanks to its incorporeal nature, but that doesn't stop me from swallowing around it reflexively, enamored with the sensation despite just how unsettling this entire situation is. It only gets better when the ghost starts thrusting, using my entire body as a cocksleeve just because it can. Just because I was the one who messed around a little bit too much with things I didn't understand. Now, I'm paying for it with whatever pleasure I can grant the afterlife.

Of course, I must be making the ghost feel good if it wants to keep doing this at all, but it also seems to delight in making me react, using long, powerful strokes that spread my throat open wide each time. The ghostly cock slides easily over my tongue and out of my open mouth, and I almost wish I could see it, just to have the pleasure of knowing who or what I was serving. I'm learning to like this much more quickly than I thought I would.

It doesn't take the ghost too much time to reach the edge of pleasure, Its motions losing their deliberate feeling as its strokes stutter and change rhythm. It thrusts faster, harder, opening me up more powerfully, and I arch my back despite the fact that the ghost needs no help from me to access whatever part of my body it wants. It's just my natural reaction to knowing that whoever's fucking me is getting closer and closer to climax.

When the ghost reaches orgasm, its entire cock twitches inside of my body, an odd sensation that makes me moan - but I can't moan for long. The ghost pulls back just enough for its cum to flood my mouth. A supernatural force prevents me from parting my lips to let any of it out, and so it fills my cheeks easily before pouring down my throat around the phantom intruder. My stomach fills to capacity easily, so the ectoplasmic seed takes the next route out and fills my guts, bloating my midsection, rounding it out to hang heavy beneath me as my eyes roll back in my head.

Finally, the ghost stops. It remains plugged in my body, yes, but at least it's not thrusting anymore, which allows me a little bit of room to regain my senses. Shivering, I look down at my midsection, enchanted with the way my shirt stretches tight over my full middle. I drag my fingertips across it, and the ghost twitches again, which makes me gasp.

I don't know if the ghost plans to pull out anytime soon, but frankly, I hope it doesn't. I want to know how far it can go.