Soon, we were regularly sending each other pictures and videos: his cock, my ass.It took a few weeks before I built up the courage to order my first pair of panties—a red lace thong, skimpy and delicate, that hugged me in a way nothing else ever had. Still, I wondered how many of those men come here not to fuck, but to be fucked. Gay sex Red lipstick, too bold and a little uneven; foundation that barely hid the shadow of my jaw. So I messaged him and sent a picture I’d taken of my ass in the shower.He replied a few minutes later, sending a picture of his cock. I wanted privacy—the space to transform myself, to greet Daniel in a wig, makeup, and black lace. Part of me still couldn’t believe I was actually going through with it.My heart fluttered. And I just stared at my phone, breathless, yearning, spellbound—unable to look away. It wasn’t long before I had a hidden stash of thongs in different colors, which I’d secretly slip into—at first only for Daniel, but eventually for other men who, like him, took pleasure in emasculating and dominating lesser men.***I stood in front of the bathroom vanity, the harsh white light buzzing overhead.
