This is not my work, but I love it and wanted to share it.
I wake up in a pile of rumpled sheets. The dark maroon color stark against my white skin. From the depths of the evening before floats up the complement. ‘I like the contrast…’ But I can’t grasp the rest through the fog in my brain. The house is quiet and I’m alone. I recall passion. Fingers gripping tightly. Hungry mouths devouring acres of skin. Deep grunts of satisfaction and moans of pleasure. Squeals of delight. Then another hazy memory from the depths, ‘were those my squeals?’ As I shake my head in an attempt to focus the room spins a little.
I gently roll out of the rumpled cotton field of dreams, driven by the need to urinate. Warm feet on cold tile helps me focus. I stand over a shiny white bowl as my distended bladder shrinks. Glancing to the left I see a double sink with a huge mirror over it. There is another flash of memory. Of the reflection of pale hands running over my torso. Whispers of admiration; then of lust and need. I am bent over the sink and an angelic face floats behind me in the mirror. A grimace of lust painted on it. I feel the color drain from my face as the memory coalesces. Looking down I see the beginnings of bruises on the front of my thighs. In my ears echo the cry of that angel as she is satisfied. Clinching my sphincter creates a dull ache that has never been there before.
The smell of back coffee draws me toward the kitchen and I slip on my cargo shorts to seek it out. I enter the transitional area between the kitchen and dining room and my eye is drawn to the sliding glass door that looks onto the deck. There stands the angel from the reflection. I flash back to her in the club. In that skin tight red dress she stood out like a flower in a field of noxious weeds. Images of her moving and dancing, a mermaid in a sea of fish, fill my head. Drinks flowed. There is an image of a dark place where the thump of the music has become a dull throb. Of looking up at her from my knees as I push the red line of her hem up creamy thighs. I remember her fingers curled in my hair as I gag and cough with her release. On the deck she turns and catches me staring at her. She looks surprised. I move toward her, the glass whispers aside and join her.
“Good morning.” She leans in and kisses my lips in an easy familiar way.
“Mornin” I mumble back. An awakward silence steps between us and hangs there till I nudge it out of the way. “About last night….” she intercedes.
“I’m sooo sorry! I just get so carried away sometimes! I like to think of it as being passionate, but I guess sometimes….” She trails off knowing that nothing flattering can follow that statement. She changes gears. “Actually, I’m a little surprised you’re still here. Most guys after a night like last night slink out the front door as soon as I come out here to give them an opening.” Her eyes drop to the deck. I’m acutely aware of her curves beneath the robe. “I guess I should be flattered that you at least had the nerve to come out here to say goodbye.” More and more of the previous evening is coming to light. The condition of the sheets makes perfect sense now. Her eyes return to me, hopeful, but resigned.
“I had an amazing night! Best of my life!” I tell her in a breathy rush and wonder blossoms over her face.
“Truly?” I nod, my eyes never leaving hers. “You didn’t come out here to tell me goodbye?” I shake my head. She unties the belt and pulls her robe open. The knowing look on her face says it all. She has finally found her match. “Well then, let’s not waste anymore time talking.” I look into the back yards of the other houses.
“What about your neighbors?” She smirks.
“The neighbors already know all about me.”
Not my caption, but I wanted to share it.
What will pop out this time…..let’s see….
It was my first time in Japan. The cherry trees were in bloom and their sweet fragrance floated on the air with the occasional delicious smell of cooking food. I was off the beaten path, away from the tourist areas, soaking up the local culture. It was early morning as I happened along the street in an area where I was getting more unusual looks than normal. Being a westerner in the East I stood out like a turkey in a chicken coop so receiving odd looks was becoming standard.
I had just passed a school and noticed small groups of girls carrying books and chatting as they headed toward it. They were wearing the kind of cute little uniforms that made guys have bad thoughts. I didn’t want to creep any of them out so I kept my head down and tried to hurry out of the area.
In my haste I almost collided with a tall girl. I stumbled as I took evasive action to avoid bowling her over and luckily she caught me by the shoulders before I did a face plant in the concrete.
“I’m so sorry miss! I didn’t mean to bump into you!” She steadied me before speaking.
“Oh! You’re American!” I smiled and nodded as I responded for the hundredth time.
“Yes. Guilty as charged. I’m from the states. I better let you get to class.” I stepped around her and took about two steps when her hand grabbed my shoulder again.
“Uh, Mister? I’m so sorry, but this just happened.” I turned back to find the front of her skirt resting on top of a hard penis. I took a double take from her throbbing erection to the concerned look on her face, back to the erection. I’d heard of Futanari, but thought they were just some urban legend. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you, being American and all, you’re not used to this.” I was concerned and wary.
“Used to what?”
“Well, you have given me and erection and you must take care of it for me. It is the honorable thing to do.” A cold chill ran down my spine. “You are an honorable man are you not?”
“I…..uh, sure, but….” She seemed relieved as she cut in.
“Oh good! We’ll have to make this a quickie. I don’t want to be late for my Physics class.” She reached for my belt as I sputtered and I tried to back away.
“Wait! I don’t understand!” She gave me that concerned look again.
“There’s nothing to understand. I’m going to stick my penis in your bottom to relieve my erection. That is what must be done. It is required of you since you caused it. Please! We are wasting valuable time!”
She grabbed me again and this time shucked my pants down around my ankles. With smooth movements she pushed me a couple of steps to a sign post, bent me forward at the waist and placed my shoulder against the post. I felt the tip of her penis rubbing a slippery substance all around my anus and then she entered me. Fully. She unceremoniously began pumping. Each thrust pulling a soft girlish ‘ugh, ugh, ugh,’ in a steady rhythm.
My eyes were closed and my mind reeling as this girl had her way with me. Then to my even deeper humiliation I heard a sing-song voice declare,
“Cho, you’d better hurry! Class starts in ten minutes!” The giggle that followed let me know that it had been spoken in English on purpose. When my eyes opened I saw three girls, much like Cho, walking past and the one closest caught my eye and winked at me as she puckered up and gave me an air kiss. Their giggles faded away as they past us.
Cho’s rhythm was increasing. She was pistoning in and out with deep urgency when suddenly she buried herself to the hilt.
“Aheeeeeeeeee! Uhg! Aheeeeeeee! ugh……ugh…..ugh.” Cho’s release echoed from the buildings and anyone within six blocks would know she was having an orgasm. I felt her cum hard and in an unbelievable volume. I could see my lower abdomen stretching slightly as she grunted a few times to finish topping off a load that would have challenged a bull. She pulled her penis from me with a soft plop.
I looked back at her as her juices ran down the insides of my thighs and saw the innocent looking school girl tuck her flaccid penis back into her panties then straightening her skirt. She met my eye and smiled.
“See you after school.” was all she said.
There are some extremely talented artists out there drawing shemale/futa on male. I think most everyone knows how much I like Anasheya, but today I’d like to put a pitch in for nobody in particular. Uh…wait, that didn’t sound right. I mean I want to tell you about nobody in particular. Hehehe…before I push this into the realm of ‘Who’s on First?’ I’ll stop right there. I love a good sense of humor and NIP has it is in spades. ‘Nobody In Particular’ being the name of the artists would be great fun for me even if I didn’t like his work and thankfully that is not the case.
Check our the two comics in this post. These don’t begin to scratch the surface of his works, but they are two that I like and I thought I’d share them here. I enjoy NIP’s wry sense of humor and I think it really shows up in this first series.
I love the role reversal and how NIP hides it till the last panel. I have my quirks just like everyone and certain situations speak to me more than others, but I can always count on NIP to shoot close to the mark.
Now take this next one. A chance meeting with a pretty futa who is more than open to allowing you to give her a little head? Again, just a great panel. I would encourage you to look up more of the artist’s work. NIP does way more than just futa on male stuff and you never know what you might find to trip your trigger out there.