Branson didn’t know why. He couldn’t understand it. He felt ashamed and degraded every time he did it. He was a contradiction because he worked out religiously, built himself a body that made women desire him and men envious of him. He was lucky enough to be born with great genetics; he put on muscle so easily and lost bodyfat just as fast. Branson liked the way he looked, tall, ripped, and handsome. He was very athletic, playing football and baseball at school. These were all the more reason to hate himself sometimes. Even though Branson was the epitome of am aggressive male, a representation of toxic masculinity, Branson had a very deep secret. He was closeted and in private, he loved to dress in lingerie. He got off seeing his muscular, ripped body dressed up in lace panties, garter belt, thigh-high stockings and heels. He liked a nice bra that cupped his pecs. Sometimes a corset that accentuated his tiny waist and wide lats. He sometimes would apply a little lipstick; eyeliner and he would slick his hair back. He never wore wigs or anything like that because he didn’t want to pass. He just like feeling like a slutty bitch sometimes. He loved being with a man while dressed like a whore. He loved giving up control, giving in to his feminine side, and letting another man take him like a woman.
He arrived at the hotel room a couple of hours early. He wanted the extra time to prepare himself for the man he was meeting here later. He arrived dressed in his trainers, tight blue jeans, a snug t-shirt with the name of his college on it, and a baseball cap; he looked the part of the college jock that he was. He liked to think he was being incognito, but people noticed him. With a body like he had, who wouldn’t notice him. In the room, he undressed, took his time cleaning himself, showering, making himself look perfect. He regularly had his body waxed smooth. Having had a waxing that morning, his muscles were silky smooth and slick, no hair from the neck down. He took care and lotioned his body, making it soft. He looked at himself in the mirror, naked and pumped. He had been to the gym on his way to the hotel. He wanted his muscles pumped as big as he could get them. He was proud of what he saw in the reflection. He saw a stereotypical jock, the kind you would see in a movie or TV show, square jaw, short brown hair, blue eyes, thick neck and pronounced traps. He looked powerful and intimidating even with his handsome smile, those snow-white teeth.
That night, Jackson, the man he was meeting, wanted him to wear red lipstick and a little bit of eyeliner to make his blue eyes pop. Branson had naturally high cheekbones, so he didn’t need to do anything to them.
Now he got to put on his outfit for the night. It excited him so much that he usually was rock-hard while he dressed. He went to his bag and started pulling out his lingerie. Jackson told him what to wear, and Branson bought it. He had a secret stash of sexy lingerie in his room at the frat. He was lucky to have his own room, otherwise, he would have had to find another place to hide his lace. Branson already had a few items which were the basics: black thigh-high fishnets stockings and silky, black stiletto heels. They were tall but he had mastered them. They made his calves big and defined. He could walk in them just as good as any other pair of shoes. It was hard for him not to walk too much like a women, stepping deliberately one foot in front of the other made him almost sachet. He didn’t want that. He found a casual way of walking in them without looking too much like a dude’s first time in drag.
Branson sat on the edge of the bed. He rolled up a stocking, bent his knee and unrolled it carefully over his toes. Most of the time, after hooking up with a man, his stockings would end of ripped anyway from all the aggressive fucking he received. Most guys like to throw him around since he was so big, and it made them feel powerful. As he unrolled the stocking over his toes, he stretched out his leg, toes pointed, and gently unrolled the stocking up his leg. He tried not to tug too hard. He felt the skintight nylon material slide over his hard, smooth muscles, stretching to match his leg’s shape and contours. He stopped when they reached his upper thigh. He made sure the lace at the top was perfectly flat, not folded. He lifted his leg again out in front of him. He ran his hand over the stocking covered leg, feeling the material over his leg. He loved the sensation and feeling of the material. It was delicate. He felt delicate. He slid on the other stocking and stood. He posed in the mirror, admiring himself. His rather large cock was erect and pointing straight up against his abs.
Branson reached for the lacy, black panties. They were so soft and delicate. They were black silk with lace panels on the sides. They cupped his ass and the seam that ran up between his ass was cinched so it would sink in. His cock wasn’t going to fit while it was erect, so he was going to have to lay it sideways inside the panties.
The garter belt was black lace with a small black bow and a pink rose in the middle of the waistband. He attached the garters to the tops of the stockings, front and back.
Jackson wanted him to wear a corset bustier, that he had to buy online. He settled on a black satin one with black lace trim. The ribbon that tied the back together was black satin. It was a little difficult for him to tighten the corset since he had to wrap his bulky arms behind his back to do it. Using the mirror helped but not enough. He pulled it as tight as he could and finally tied the ribbon in a bow.
He stepped into the black, satin stilettos. His feet slid in as his height grew another four inches making him about six-six. He would tower over Jackson but that was ok. Jackson preferred him to be tall.
Then last, but not least, a special request from Jackson. A black ball cap. He thought about wearing it backward but thought it would look sexier and sultrier to have it forward with the bill pulled low over his eyes.
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He turned side to side, admiring his calves, his ass, the way the corset cinched his waist even smaller. He turned forward and ran his hands over the silky material of the corset. It pushed up under his pecs, lifting them higher, his nipples peaking out over the top. He smiled at himself as he proceeded to flex his muscles, bodybuilding poses, getting off on the contrast between masculine and feminine. As feminine as his outfit was, it actually made him look more masculine. It made his muscles more pronounced, and his size accentuated.
He moved around the room with masculine grace as he tidied-up. He made sure everything looked perfect. As time grew closer to Jackson’s arrival, Branson’s heart was thumping in his chest. This always happened right before a meeting like this. He knew he looked hot, but there was always that chance he wasn’t the man was looking for. And he prayed Jackson looked like his pictures they traded. The pictured showed a very fit, very handsome man, probably about ten-years older, but no more than thirty-one.
Branson started to get that feeling. The one he got right before he met a man. It was a little bit of self-loathing, like he couldn’t believe he was doing this. Why was he doing this? Why did he NEED to do this? What if someone found out? What if his friends and frat brothers found out. What if his coaches found out? How can a guy like him find any joy in this? What if his family found out? Being gay was one thing, being a big muscle sissy, that was another. These things all ran through his mind causing him to grow anxious. He tried to calm himself as the seconds grew nearer to Jackson’s arrival.
Branson heard the sound of a key card being swiped and then a beep. His stomach flipped as the door opened. A sigh of relief came out of him as Jackson appeared, looking better than his pictures. He looked to be around thirty-years old, short dark hair, very handsome. Branson could tell he had a muscular body by the way his suit hung off his muscular frame. The suit was a perfect fit, tailored to fit an athletic body, not too tight, just enough. A shiny gold ring on his ring finger.
Jackson shut the door and turned. “Shit!” he exclaimed seeing Branson for the first time. Jackson’s eyes were wide, and he had a look of bewilderment on his handsome face. Branson stood in the middle of the room. His big arms crossed over his chest, covering the top edge of the bustier. His feet were shoulder-width apart giving him an alpha stance. His hat pulled down low so Jackson could barely see his eyes, but he could see the bright red lipstick. The kid was wearing pointed stilettoes, making his calves bulge and his quads flex. Jackson was instantly hard looking at the beautiful, jacked up jock, his body in contrast with his lacy, silk lingerie.
Branson stood silently. He raised his head a little, allowing Jackson to see his eyes. He lowered his arms and clasped his hands behind his back, standing at parade rest. It made his shoulders bulge and his chest widen.
Jackson took off his suit coat and hung it neatly. He crossed the room slowly to the big muscular femboy. He marveled at Branson’s smooth, silky skin. Jackson loved how handsome he was, a nice square jaw, high cheekbones, and those blue eyes that popped lined with makeup. Jackson was silent as he moved around the stationary man. Branson knew he was inspecting the goods, and he could tell from the older man’s breathing that he liked what he saw. Jackson came around to Branson’s front and stood, looking him in the eyes that peeked out from under the bill of the baseball cap. He reached up, took the hat by the bill and slowly took if off.
“Let’s see those pretty eyes,” Jackson said. He tossed the hat on the bed. Branson’s hair was barely messed up, but Jackson still softly ran his fingers through it, styling it so it was slicked back. Branson was his dream man. “We’ll put the hat back on later.”
Branson stood silently, his face frozen in a sexy, sultry expression, serious yet smoldering. He never knew if he should speak or wait until asked to. He knew he looked sexy just standing and posing for a man. He looked like a gorgeous hunk that could grace the covers of any fitness magazine but dressed like he would put out like a woman for any man that could handle him. That’s why men liked him. The kind of men that liked guys like Branson were the kind who wanted to be with a man yet needed to feel like a straight man while they did it. These men wanted to be with attractive men sexually but they wanted the best of both worlds; the masculine man they wanted to fuck, with the delicate, softness of a woman.
“Pictures do not do you justice. You’re a big stud, aren’t you?” Jackson said. Branson nodded slightly. “Ah… big, strong, silent type,” he added with a smirk. “That’s ok. I like that.”
Jackson stepped closer, almost nose to nose. His fingers caressed Branson’s right bicep. Branson could feel the man’s warm breath, smell his aftershave, the starch in his shirt. Jackson slowly looked him in the eyes and slowly, gently, put his lips on Branson’s. It was a soft kiss, delicate.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jackson whispered. He went in for another kiss, this time deeper and more passionate. It was such a good kiss that Jackson heard a small whimper coming from Branson. Then the man felt Branson’s hands as they lay softly on Jackson’s waist. The man was glad Branson wasn’t someone who wasn’t going to reciprocate. Some men he’d hooked up with into lace were gay for pay. They looked good but that was the extent. Branson seemed genuinely into it.
Branson felt the man’s hands on his wrists. Jackson raised Branson’s arms up and placed them around his own neck. The was the way it should be. This is how a woman embraced a man, her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist. They continued to kiss, slowly making out. Branson running his fingers through the back of Jackson’s think hair. Jackson’s hands exploring the hard muscles of Branson’s back. God, he loved a hot guy with hard muscles, athletic, masculine.
Branson was feeling euphoric. This is where he needed to be, dressed like a pretty doll being held by a handsome man. This man was everything Branson wanted. He was tall, built, looked powerful in his designer suit. He knew this man would know how to treat a girl. He knew the man was also attracted to his body. Branson knew this man wasn’t going to judge him but encourage him to live out his fantasies.
Branson untied Jackson’s silk tie. He gently pulled it away from his starched white collar, and let it dangle, then coil down on top of the table next to them. Jackson smiled as he watched the hunk slowly undress him. Branson unbuttoned Jackson’s shirt. The younger man was happy to see the built pecs and etched abs of the older stud.
“Fuck,” Branson whispered so softly as he took in the Jackson’s beautiful torso. Luckily, looking the way Branson did, he had his pick of who ever he hooked up with. It was only the hottest dudes for him.
“She speaks,” Jackson said with a smile.
Branson smiled back. “Yes, she speaks.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I like the strong, silent types but when it comes to girls like you, I like to hear some… feedback,” Jackson said with a wink.
Branson unfastened Jackson’s suit pants. He let them drop to the floor, leaving the man in the cutest, little, black, spandex briefs with a silver waistband. The man was rock hard, and Branson was excited when he saw the heft of the package in his hands. It was a big cock. The perfect size, not too big, not too small. He pushed Jackson’s underwear down to his ankles. Jackson stepped out of them and then kicked his shoes off. He was left wearing a pair of knee high, blue nylon socks that molded to his muscular calves. Branson hoped he would leave them on.
Branson held the man’s cock in his hand and then looked him in the eyes and said, “How can I give you feedback with your cock in my mouth?” Then he went to his knees, kept his eyes up on Jackson’s face and slid the cock into his mouth. Jackson closed his eyes and gasped. Looking down at the handsome kid, his beautiful red lips wrapped around his hard cock, he never thought he would find anyone as perfect as this.
Branson loved to suck cock. He loved to feel the warm flesh on his tongue, down his throat. Looking at him, you wouldn’t expect a guy like him to such cock, but he did. He looked up at the incredibly handsome man who was now clasping his head with big hands. He loved it when men took control and held his head while they fucked his throat. He knew he was getting lipstick on the man’s cock, and it drove him crazy with desire. Branson sucked, swallowed, skimmed that cock until he heard Jackson’s breathing stutter, his body tense up. Branson knew he was about to get his first load of the night.
Jackson held on to the kid’s head, jammed his cock all the way down and unleashed a thick load into the handsome bitch’s throat. He loved to see Branson struggling not to choke but be so eager to drink his load. When he was finished shooting, he let go of the hunk’s head. Branson sat back on his spiked heels breathing hard, eyes watered, cum on his chin.
Branson held up his hand as if he were asking the man to kiss it. Jackson gently took the hand and helped the femboy stand. Branson’s cock was so erect and dripping. He had cum while he was sucking cock, the head of his cock sticking up out of his panties.
Jackson took his thumb, wiped off his cum from Branson’s strong chin and then gently fed it to him. Branson sucked in the man’s fingers, licking and sucking the man’s cum until Jackson’s fingers were clean. Then Jackson pulled him in for another long kiss.
“You sucked daddy’s cock so well baby,” Jackson said.
Branson smiled at being called baby. “Thank you, daddy,” he replied. Jackson loved the contrast of Branson’s deep, baritone voice calling him daddy. Jackson thought, shit, I could take this guy out for a beer and then fuck him later and no one would be the wiser.
“Are you excited to have daddy make love to you, baby?” Jackson asked him with a whispery voice.
Branson nodded. “I’ve been waiting for two days, daddy.”
“Good girl,” Jackson said as he guided the muscular femboy to the bed. “You look so pretty for me, baby.” He sat Branson down onto the bed. “Do you like what I had you wear tonight?”
Branson leaned back onto the bed. He scooted back until he was all the way on. He raised his legs and spread them seductively. He slid his finger down between his legs and started to finger his hole. “I love it, daddy. Makes my pussy wet.”
Jackson crawled onto the bed, scooting up between the jock’s outstretched legs. He replaced Branson’s fingers with his own. He began to finger fuck the muscle ass. Jackson looked at Branson’s legs, so muscular, so ripped, made sexier but the strength they showed by holding themselves aloft, the black stockings accentuated the curves of the muscle. The jock’s stilettoes pointed toes up to the ceiling,.
“Oh, your pussy is wet, baby girl. You’re pussy is so smooth.”
“Thank you, daddy. I waxed my cunt for you.”
“Oh, you are a good girl, baby. You’re all lubed up too.”
“I didn’t want to waste any time,” Branson said. He spread his legs wider like a wishbone. “Please, daddy, put your cock inside me. I’m so wet for you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Jackson almost came when he heard Branson’s male voice asking to be fucked. He aimed his cock at the gorgeous muscle jock’s hole and pushed. To his excitement, he slid right in. It felt like a real vagina, wet, tight, warm.
To Branson, when he felt a cock slide into his hole, he thought it was the most amazing feeling in the world. He wanted this every day and every night. He would need to find a man who was willing to do that for him. He had no interest at all in ever being a top. He just wanted to be filled with cock.
Jackson wasted no time and started to fuck the bubble butt under him. He took a hold of Branson’s ankles and held them out as he fucked. He looked down at the slutty jock. He never wanted to leave this spot. He was looking down at one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen in his opinion. Such a big guy, tough looking, uber masculine, athletically built, and such a whore for cock. Jackson had found what he’d been looking for, a big, tough fucker who he could hang out with in public and then later, dress him up in silk and lace and fuck him like a girl. It made him feel so powerful.
Jackson put Branson’s ankles over his own shoulders and leaned down and kissed the slutty hunk. Branson felt his knees brush against his face, the silky-smooth stockings against his skin. He was glad he was flexible. Jackson had his knees pushed so far back, more than any guy had ever done. It was difficult to breathe, but he didn’t care. He had a handsome, powerhouse fucking down into his pussy.
Jackson fucked him in this position for a long time, stealing kisses now and then. Finally, he sat back, and Branson wrapped his stockinged legs around the older man’s waist. Jackson ran his hand over the silky corset that was wrapped around Branson’s waist. It was so sexy. He continued to fuck the kid.
Jackson looked down and smiled. “Look at you, you hot mother fucker.”
Branson’s eyes widened at the change in tone. Jackson looked overcome with lust for the muscular sissy boy.
“You are one big fucking sissy boy, aren’t you,” Jackson asked. “Big fucking slutty muscle boy.”
Branson found himself getting off on the change in ton. Now being referred to as a boy and not a girl. He’d been through this before. A lot of his hook ups like to degrade him while the fucked him. They liked the power trip. Branson loved being called a girl but he also loved being called out for what he was, a big muscle femboy.
Branson nodded. “Yes, daddy.”
“Fucking my big muscle sissy. Big, hunky muscle bitch.”
“Yes, daddy,” Branson said again.
“You’re so fucking sexy, baby girl,” Jackson told him. “Your fucking body is so fucking delicious.”
“I love your body, daddy,” Branson said as he was fucked slow and deep.
“Yeah? I’m not as big as you but then, I don’t need to be. My big muscle girl loves her daddy.”
“Yes, daddy!” Branson called out. “I love you so much.”
“That’s my sweet baby girl,” Jackson said softly before kissing him.
“Daddy, cum in my pussy.”
“Yes, baby. Daddy’s going to cream your tight pussy,” Jackson assured him.
Jackson sped up his strokes until Branson felt him seize up and then felt a warm jet of cum shoot through his hole. The older man jerked and convulsed as he kept shooting into the slutty hole.
When Jackson was finished, he lay down onto Branson’s big chest. “Oh baby girl,” he whimpered, exhausted and breathing hard.
Branson was in heaven. The handsome man was laying on him, his weight felt amazing. Branson was bigger then him and the jock liked that. He liked it when smaller men took control. Jackson slowly slid off him and lay beside Branson.
“Holy fucking shit,” Jackson said in disbelief.
Branson chuckled. “Good?”
“Dude, you have no idea. That was fucking… everything.”
“Same here,” Branson agreed. “I was so fucking scared you weren’t going to look like your pic.”
“YOU? I was petrified you were going to be some old, fat dude who catfished me. I would have been pissed.”
“Things turned out good for the both of us.”
Jackson turned on his side, facing Jackson. “Seriously, dude. What is your fucking story? Why do you look so fucking sexy? What makes a guy who looks like you, do this?” he asked gesturing to Branson’s attired.
Branson laughed. “Bro, I can say the same about you. Look at you. You look like a fucking GQ model, you got money, you got everything, and you’re into dudes like me.”
Jackson nodded his head with a shrug. “Yeah, it’s a little fucked up, right?”
Branson shrugged. “I dunno. We’re both into it. Can’t be that bad.”
“I love hearing your deep voice calling me daddy,” Jackson said. “Such a fucking sexy turn on.”
Branson smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“A lot, huh? I would have imagined it’s hard to find other guys into this,” Jackson said skeptically.
“Oh, you would be surprised. I mean, most of the time it’s not to this extent,” Branson said gesturing to his attire. “Almost all the time there are panties involved though.”
“Yeah? That’s crazy.”
“What about you? You find many dudes like me?” Branson asked.
“Fuck, no!” Jackson scoffed. “You kidding me? I mean, I have been with some hot dudes wearing panties but usually to get a full on femboy, they’re all twinks. I like a femboy with a little more muscle.”
“Tonight was hot because you let me wear everything. I like it when a dude wants me to be in stockings and heels.”
“I was psyched when you said you were into heels and stockings.”
“I feel really fucking pretty when I’m wearing a whole ensemble.”
Jackson heard that and he was filled with warmth. “You are a very pretty boy. I wouldn’t want you dressed any other way.”
Branson turned to him. “Really? You’d want me like this all the time?”
“Dude, in private, you could wear anything you wanted to… well, anything I wanted you to.”
“I like that better.”
Jackson grinned. “Fuck, I love how you’re this big muscle dude who’s so submissive too.”
“I get that a lot too. I’ve actually always been ashamed I’m like this.”
Jackson frowned. “Branson, dude, don’t feel fucking ashamed. You like what you like. Once you find someone who feels the same, it just doesn’t matter anymore.”
Branson smiled. “Well, maybe some day I’ll find him.”
Jackson wanted to scoop up the muscle boy, take him home and make love to him every night for the rest of his life. But, he was married. Branson was just another femboy notch on his bedpost. But, Jackson wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to let this one slip away. He was going to keep Branson on a short leash. Make the kid a regular fuckboy, or fuckgirl.
“You are my special girl,” Jackson said as he kissed him. “My big muscle girl.”
“I like that,” Branson whispered.
“Time for daddy to fill your pussy again?”
“Fuck, yeah, daddy,” Branson said.
“If you’re a good little cunt, I may have brought some more pretty little things for you to wear,” Jackson said as he climbed between Branson’s muscular thighs.
“Oh, fuck, daddy,” Branson cooed. “I’ll be a good cunt for you.”
“Good girl.”
