First Time Femme

by D. L. Savage

  I nodded, thrusting my shoulders back and holding my head high as I turned and performed my best catwalk strut toward the cab, hoping to god the driver didn’t think I just looked like some hideous dude in drag.

  Because this was my first test, I realized. If my cab driver thought I was a real chick, then maybe I’d have a chance at fooling the people at the concert. But if his face crumpled up in disgust or shock the moment he set eyes on me, then I knew I might as well just tell him to head straight home again.

  To my surprise, before I even reached the cab, he’d jumped out of his door and raced around to open the back passenger door for me, even going so far as to shoot me a smile and say, “Good evening, ma’am.”

  “Why, thank you,” I found myself replying in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. And as I eased myself into the back of the cab, feeling the cool leather against my butt through the flimsy fabric of the dress and carefully crossing my long bare legs, I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

  Because for the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this crazy plan might actually work ...

  * * *

  My heart was in my throat as I showed my ticket to the huge hulking doorman, holding my breath as he looked me coldly up and down then ushered me through the double doors and into the concert venue.

  Holy shit, I thought. I’ve done it. I’m actually here ...

  The first thing that hit me as I stepped inside the main interior corridor was the noise – the deafening chatter of female voices – followed quickly by the eye-watering stink of perfume and pheromones.

  Just as I’d predicted, the crowd was practically one-hundred-percent female, with a parade of girls tottering past me in dresses even smaller than mine, the sight peppered only occasionally by a bored husband or male security guard.

  It seemed as if most of the crowd were making their way to some bar at a back room, while a few super eager girls were already talking about getting their places right at the front of the stage in the main venue. There were also washrooms and a coat check, as well as a few t-shirt and fast food stands dotted around, and for a moment I just found myself standing there, scanning the faces of each woman who passed, dumbly hoping I might pick out Alice and Laura from the seething crowd, as the truth slowly began to sink in that even now that I was here, actually finding them amongst this sea of women would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

  Just then, my search was quickly interrupted by a much more pressing urge – the somewhat desperate need to piss.

  Luckily the door to the washrooms was nearby, but as I made my way towards it, it quickly became apparent that while the guy’s entrance was totally empty, a huge line was snaking out from the doorway to the women's side.

  I did the only thing I could, holding my head high and strutting as confidently as I could toward the end of the line, secretly willing myself not to topple my heels as I joined the back of the queue.

  But as it slowly began to shuffle forward, a familiar voice suddenly snapped me to attention.

  “You know what we used to do?” It said.

  Laura!

  There was no question.

  I felt myself tuning in to the conversation, the general din of the hallway fading away around me as I made out both their voices. It sounded like they were a few places behind me in the queue, too, although I felt too nervous to around and check.

  “Oh my god,” Alice replied, “we can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Laura shot back, as I stood there, hardly even noticing that the queue had shuffled forward until I felt a rough push from the woman behind me.

  “What’s to stop us paying a little visit to the security guards and using our charms?” Laura continued. “Then we’d definitely get back stage ...”

  “Yeah,” Alice sighed, “but my free pass is with Bradley Stark, not with some gross security dude ...”

  I felt my stomach flip. There was no question about it, they were definitely talking about banging the security guards. Or at least sucking them off. This was insane.

  And despite myself I felt another unwanted flash of horniness at the idea, my bound cock tingling and straining against its confines, despite my urge to pee.

  “No, no, no,” Alice continued. “What we’ll do is this. We’ll make sure to get a good spot, right down near the stage and then trust me, I’ve got a few tricks to catch his attention ...”

  I tried to stay tuned into their conversation, but by that point I’d just about reached the front of the queue, and so there was no choice but to go tottering into the washroom, my head spinning, as I dashed for the first available stall.

  It was only as I closed the door that a new predicament hit me: how the fuck was I even going to piss, dressed like this? Then I remembered what Clara had told me, that there was a hole built in to the fake pussy.

  Here goes nothing, I thought as I eased up my dress, pulled down my thong, then backed my bare ass onto the toilet seat, finally letting go on the torrent of piss that had been pressing against my bladder this whole time.

  To my shock and relief, it actually worked. I could hear my piss hissing into the bowl, just like a real girl, and when I was done, I grabbed a couple pieces of TP and dabbed up any excess drops, before hitching up my panties and tugging down my dress again, my focus once more on Alice and Laura.

  I reached out a shaky hand to the door to my stall, easing it open just a crack then quickly slamming it closed again when I saw that they were standing right there in front of the mirrors, just a few feet away. They must’ve only come in to redo their makeup, I realized.

  I eased the door open again just a crack, watching them as they leant toward the mirror, both working on their faces, their slim toned bodies shown off by dresses just as tight and figure-hugging as mine – Alice’s in a sexy peach color, Laura’s in electric blue – their long tanned legs on full display and not a hint of visible panty line between them as my eyes roved the smooth curves of their butts.

  It felt so weird to be looking at my wife that way, while I was dressed almost identically to her.

  Because now I knew exactly how she felt.

  I knew that her feet no doubt hurt from the heels, and I knew that her face was probably itching under the makeup but that she wasn’t about to scratch it and ruin her look.

  I knew that her thong was wedged tight up her butt crack like a naughty little secret beneath her dress. And I knew most of all what it felt like to be sexy, to move my body in a slinky, provocative way – to swing my hips and shake my booty and push out my tits …

  The moment Alice and Laura left the washroom I raced out of my stall to follow them. But for a brief half second, I paused at the mirror, deciding to quickly double check on my own reflection, just to make sure one of my false eyelashes wasn’t hanging off or that I’d accidentally smudged my lipstick or whatever.

  But when I caught sight of myself in the mirror I did a true double take – not because I looked hideous but in fact quite the opposite. I found myself actually rooted to the spot for a second in shock, as I truly took in Clara’s handiwork for the first time, admiring the incredible job she’d done. She’d brought out my eyes using dark smoky eye shadow and colored outside the lines of my real lips to make them seem huge and plump and cartoonish.

  Blowjob lips …

  But I snapped back to attention, fixated once more on the task at hand.

  I sucked in a final shaky breath, then turned and made my way out of the washroom, determined not to let Alice and Laura out of my sights …

  7

  “This song is called Get You Wet ...”

  As Bradley Stark’s low sonorous voice reverberated through the huge sound system, a cacophony of high manic screaming filled the air.

  I felt myself bristling. He seemed to be dressed like a caricature of a sexy heartthrob pop star: his lower half packed into the tightest blue jeans imaginable while his torso was barely covered by a white vest which he seemed fixated on pulling up
at every damn opportunity to expose a set of glistening washboard abs beneath, his big dark eyes roving the crowd like searchlights, ready to pick out his next victim.

  But my attention quickly flitted back to the area of the crowd where Alice and Laura were standing: just a few rows ahead of me and about five feet from the main barrier at the front. Just like Bradley Stark was working up the crowd, they seemed intent on doing everything within their power to catch his attention, waving their hands and screaming his name. (The way they were going, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d pulled down the necks of their dresses to give him a flash of their titties …)

  And I saw that on more than one or two occasions their antics actually seemed to work – causing him to thrust his hips and shoot out leery, suggestive grins in their direction.

  The concert seemed to go by in a flash, and before I knew it, Stark was announcing that this next one would be his last song, sending the crowd into another fit of frantic adulation. But before he began to sing, he leant down and whispered something to a nearby security guard, a huge hulking black dude with a shaved head and shoulders like an ox.

  The guard nodded, then turned and began to work his way into the crowd from the side, and as the song started up, I watched on uselessly, the whole thing feeling like it was plunging into slow motion as the security dude actually headed right over to where Alice and Lauren were standing, then leant in and said something to them.

  I watched on in shocked amazement as they both excitedly nodded their heads, then turned to follow the guard off towards a door at the side of the stage.

  Holy shit. It was actually happening. He’d invited my wife backstage ...

  I felt a rush of conflicting emotions hitting me all at once: anger, frustration and of course extreme horniness too.

  And spurred on by a force outside of my own control, I began to push myself forward through the crowd, desperately trying to follow Alice and Laura and that security guard ...

  8

  As I finally made it out through the crush of the crowd and then stumbled through the same side door that Alice and Laura had just disappeared through, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. A part of me wanted to just pull off my heels and full-on run, but of course I knew I needed to remain ladylike.

  Soon I’d made it through a series of winding backstage corridors, and then at the far end of the final one I saw a guy guarding the door; the very same hulking black security guard I’d just seen leading Alice and Laura away.

  I slowed down my steps, knowing that the way I behaved in these few seconds would make all the difference if I were to charm my way past him. And even though my heart was in my throat and my body was pulsing with nerves, I made sure to put everything Clara had taught me into full effect: striding confidently towards him with my head held high, my shoulders held back, my hips swinging and booty shaking, one foot stepping gracefully in front of the other.

  It seemed to work, too. I could feel his dark eyes following me, burning into me like he was undressing me in his head, brazenly looking me up and down as I approached him, a knowing grin crossing his full sensuous lips as I got up close.

  To be honest, I found his interest in me kind of unnerving, but at the same time, I reminded myself that at least he didn’t think I was a dude. I had him fooled, at least for now.

  “And what might you be after?” he said in a voice so low it cut right through me like a knife.

  Up close he seemed huge; even though I was around five nine maybe even five eleven on the heels, I felt utterly tiny in comparison.

  “I was just wondering,” I said, using my best feminine voice, trying to inject it with as much soft, gentle girliness as I could muster, “if I could go take a peek backstage? I think some of my friends might be back there?”

  “Oh really?” he replied, letting out a low booming laugh and shaking his head. “I’m afraid it’s off limits,” he added, folding his huge arms across his chest.

  I fought back my frustration, knowing I’d need to use all the feminine charms at my disposal.

  “Pretty please?” I persisted, gazing up at him with what I hoped were puppy dog eyes, even batting my long fake lashes for good measure.

  “And what’s in it for me?” he replied coldly, his voice deadly serious.

  I felt a shiver pass through me – it wasn’t dread exactly, more just nervousness and shock, knowing full well what he meant. After all, hadn’t Alice and Laura been talking about the exact same thing in the queue to the washrooms? Hadn’t they been hinting about the fact that they’d actually done this kind of shit before, back in college; ‘pleasing’ the security guards to get backstage?

  But most of all, I felt shocked at the image that briefly flashed through my head: because this wasn’t of my wife down on her knees sucking Bradley Stark’s dick. This was of me, wrapping my own glossy lips around his big black cock like a total slut …

  “It’s pretty simple, baby,” he said, his dark eyes burning down at me. “You take care of me, I’ll take you out to the tour bus. If that doesn’t sound good to you, the main exit is back the way you came.”

  He fell silent, leaning back lazily against the door, his words sinking in like the cold sweat on my skin.

  And the most fucked up thing of all was that I was actually considering it. I could feel a strange teasing voice whispering in the back of my head: Go on, do it, suck his dick, nobody will know ...

  It was crazy. Never in my fucking life had I had a thought like that - a thought about another guy - but now, dressed like this in my slutty dress and my high heels? It all felt different, like every atom of my body had been suddenly rearranged. And the proof was right there between my legs, because I could feel a aching throb, more like a real pussy than a cock.

  But I shook my head and turned away, taking a few wobbly steps back the way I’d come then paused, my stomach twisting in pure nerves as something made me turn back around again and catch his eye, the words flying from my mouth before I could stop them.

  “Okay,” I said in a trembling whisper, my face flushing with shame. “Sure.”

  What the fuck was I doing?!

  I felt truly shocked at my own actions. But in that moment, as fucked up as it might sound I actually wanted to do it. This wasn’t even totally about getting back stage anymore. If I was honest, in that weird moment I was acting on pure impulse and I knew that I wanted to explore these weird new urges a little further; I wanted to get to know my wife better by experiencing what it was like to be a slut.

  The guard let out a low knowing laugh, then nodded his head, lifting his radio to his mouth and murmuring, “I’m gonna need cover on door three for a few minutes,” before giving me a lazy nod to follow him.

  And as I took my first step to follow him, my bound cock throbbing in my panties and my heart booming hard in my ears, I knew there was no turning back ...

  9

  The security guard led me into a small empty dressing room, bare and white with a mirror on one wall and a musky smell of sweat and cigarette smoke hanging in the air. There was no ceremony, no foreplay, not even any words exchanged between us. Because practically the moment we were both inside he’d slammed the door, leant his bulky body against it, then began to fumble open his pants.

  It was only then – trapped in that room, the sound of my heart thudding hard in my ears – that I realized the danger I was in.

  Sure, I’d fooled him for now. But if a dude like him suddenly realized that I wasn’t a biological woman, he’d kick my ass for sure, no question.

  I watched on, unable to tear my eyes away as he pulled open his pants then lazily scooped his cock and balls from his boxer shorts. He wasn’t hard yet, but even like that, I realized with a shiver that his flaccid cock was already longer and thicker than my own at full mast.

  “Well?” he growled, nodding down at his dick. “‘the fuck you waiting for, slut?”

  I felt a fresh charge of horniness as he called me that, my body pulsing with
pure adrenaline, my body moving of what felt like its own accord as I took a few shaky steps toward him then lowered myself to my knees, so that my face was right up near his junk.

  Close up his dick looked truly gigantic: the smooth shaft almost pitch black, his big hairy balls dangling meatily beneath, a musky manly scent filling my nostrils as I gulped back my nerves, then gingerly reached out a shaky hand and took his hot floppy cock in my right hand.

  It felt so fucking weird to touch another guy’s dick. The heat of it burned against my palm, its heavy weight strangely enticing, but the most shameful thing of all was that between my own legs, I could feel that my pathetic tiny cock had grown fully hard despite myself, aching and straining yet still bound tightly in place by the fake pussy.

  I began to stroke him faster, but to my horror he didn’t seem to be getting harder. I didn’t dare glance up at him, instead just kept my full focus on his dick, willing it to grow as my other hand moved to cup his big full balls, their hot weight quickly filling my palm. But no matter what I did, he stayed soft, that big black dick flopping around like a water balloon right by my face, and I realized in that moment that hands simply wouldn’t be enough.

  I suppressed a shudder of nerves as I parted my lips then moved my head forward, guiding the glistening black head of his cock towards my open mouth, closing my eyes as I felt it glide against my tongue.

  I closed my lips around his shaft then began to swirl my tongue around his head, knowing that was a move that Alice often did to me to get me off. To my surprise and relief, I heard him let out a low groan of pleasure and I felt him shift his weight slightly, leaning back against the door and spreading his huge thighs a little wider. I felt something else too: his cock slowly starting to swell in my mouth, growing thicker and harder by the second. It was filling out in my hands too, the shaft thickening in my right hand while his balls had begun to tighten in my left.