Stella, the dancer has an appointment with billionaire Mr. Ignis. She's got one chance to impress him, or it's out on the streets for her. But in the middle of her dance, is it just her, or is something beginning to poke out from her crotch? 5774 words with gender transformation, public sexual humiliation, anal sex and a blowjob with a dominant billionaire. Adults only! All characters over 18.
Right now, surrounded by his arms, with this inexplicable growth between my legs, I felt exposed. Vulnerable. All thoughts of confidence were gone. I didn't want anyone to see me like this.
I gasped as he brought his hands down, reaching under mine to touch my shaft. I tried to resist, pressing down firmly to prevent him entry, but he slid past anyways, so that my fingers were pressing his into my crotch. When I realized, my hands released, but I kept them over his, as if I could protect myself if they were there.
He started running his palms over my shaft and balls, surprising me with his unfamiliar touch. They were big, warm and soft. They were touching me, feeling my dick, exploring along its length. I squirmed unwittingly, unable to keep still from these lewd sensations running through my new penis. Is this what a guy feels like when someone else touches him there?
"Take your hands away from there."
There it was. The command to strip away the last of my protection. Slowly, I moved them to my sides, letting him see what he was doing with my penis. He enveloped my member with his fleshy palm, gripping with a startling intensity. His other hand reached down and cupped my balls, squeezing firmly, causing me to jerk and gasp.
"This is my private office. No one will see but me."
That wasn't the issue here! Was he really going to jerk me off, with this penis that I grew out of nowhere? He really hadn't been fazed by it at all. In fact, it was like he had expected it, like it was only natural I'd have a penis instead of a vagina. Was that just because of his experience as a man of wealth and power? Or... did he know something I didn't?
His fingers stroked against my shaft, running along the top, one at a time. His palm pressed up against the underside, warm and soft, yet strong and firm. It felt so good. So this is what it's like to get a hand job. I watched as he pumped it firmly, milking pre-cum out pleasurably from the tip. His other hand fondled my balls, fingertips trailing over the sensitive loose skin as he caressed me to lewd gasps and moans.
Cautiously, I raised my hands up to my breasts, watching to see if he would stop me. When no command came, I gripped and squeezed my breasts and nipples with abandon, fueling my own rampant arousal. My breaths came out in short, stilted pants. Each time he pumped, a small burst of electric pleasure flowed through my crotch. I've never had an orgasm with a man's tool before, and yet I knew it wouldn't be long before I came into his hands.
So when he released his grip on my cock and balls, I couldn't help but cry out in frustration.
"That's enough. Stop touching yourself."
But it was feeling so good! Still, if he wanted me to stop, then I had to. My future wasn't worth risking on a few moments of lust and pleasure, no matter how blissful it felt. My hands obediently fell away, leaving me sitting by his side, with my erection still twitching gently against the air.
"Good. You really do excel at recognizing what's in your best interests. I like that."
About Pen Penguin
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Published July 23, 2012
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.