It was a warm night in early June.
I had planned the whole thing: I would get ready in my bedroom, wait until my parents were having dinner downstairs, and then grab the keys from the bowl by the front door, hurry down the steps to the road, and take the car. Then I would drive across London to the club and park nearby.
I was nervous, of course, but more excited than anything else. My heart was beating hard in my chest as I slipped into lilac-coloured lace-trimmed lingerie, tiny blue denim shorts and a dark bralette—neither of which, it had to be said, left much to the imagination. I was slim if reasonably broad through the shoulders, but my legs were long and lean and the outfit was flattering. I studied my face in the mirror after putting on my makeup, batted long dark eyelashes once or twice, and, after slipping on a pair of heels and some gold jewellery, made my way to the car.
Fortunately for all of us, I spared my parents the sight of seeing their youngest child looking quite so fabulous and alluring, and I was pulling out of the driveway before even the nosiest of neighbours could notice. In half an hour or so I was near the club and looking for a place to park. I found one, turned off the ignition, inspected my reflection in the rear-view mirror and got out.
The club was packed. I smiled at the bouncer and gave my name at the door. Then I made my way confidently to the bar, fully aware of the attention I was receiving, to get a glass of wine and survey the scene.
It took no time at all before someone approached me and started up a conversation. I was flattered by the attention and thought he was cute. He was taller than I was, even in heels, and he was muscular and well-dressed. He smiled easily. I must have been very attracted to him because I can’t for the life of me remember what we talked about, but for at least an hour we chatted happily and drank wine, and of course he paid for all of it. Soon we were on the dancefloor, my arms draped around his shoulders, our bodies grinding against one other. When we went to sit in a booth he put his hand on my thigh and I realised I was getting hard and so was he.
He kissed me very suddenly; he must have wanted to do it for a while. Our tongues massaged one another’s and I felt his stubble lightly on my lips. He held me tightly around my waist and back and I ran my hands through his hair. My sex was straining against my knickers and I knew he was hard beneath his jeans.
We shared a joint outside and talked for a while. I realised he was married, but I was so intoxicated by him that I couldn’t think of anything else but being with him. He asked if I wanted to go back to his and I declined: I had only just met him, and though I could see myself riding him until he came inside me in fits of ecstasy I wasn’t ready to be whisked away to a strange new place. We agreed that I would walk him to his car.
I suppose I wasn’t really thinking when we reached his car and I climbed in the back alongside him. Almost instantly we started kissing aggressively. I straddled him and ground myself hard against him. The windows steamed up, and I was conscious that there people walking past the car and even, at one point, loitering outside, within metres of us and yet wholly unaware of what we were doing. Soon I was moving down my new lover’s body and unbuckling his belt. I pulled his jeans and boxers down and over thick thighs lightly downed with dark hair and his dick—long, thick, throbbing in anticipation—sprang out. I took him in my mouth right away and he moaned softly in pleasure. He massaged my head and pushed locks of my hair behind my ears as I moved up and down him, tonguing him, looking up pleadingly into his eyes and batting my eyelashes. He moaned and sighed and slipped his hand down my shorts so he could feel and squeeze and lightly finger my ass.
I don’t know much time passed until, my having again and again brought him to the point of climax and then away again, his body began to shudder and he came almost violently, thick hot ropes of come hitting the back of my throat and filling up my mouth so quickly that, despite my very best efforts to swallow everything, his come spilled out through my teeth and onto my lips and chin. I kept him inside my mouth until I was sure that he had nothing left to give, and eventually I felt the tension leave his body, and he fell back into the seat with a long sigh.
An hour later, I parked the car and slipped back into my house. I went upstairs and took off my makeup and clothes. I was still flushed and smiling to myself when I said good morning to my parents the following day.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/gvoo1y/i_crossdressed_to_a_club_and_sucked_a_married
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