My weeping sex by Henry Many times I thought I had beaten the urge to cross dress. It is hard to say why it excites me, but I started doing it quite innocently when I was young. I would sneak satin slips, girdles, panties and stockings from my wealthy mother’s ample wardrobe. I was very small, and still am. My feet are still only size 6, so I easily fitted my mother’s shoes. I watched her make up and have artistic flair. Every so often, as a young adult, I would give in to my needs and dress up to go to a Milton Keynes gay and transgender club Punters. I had been told about the nearby dogging sites. I am 39 now, but still slim, blue eyed and with long curly blonde hair. As a musician, my hairstyle is easily explained away. I haven’t been to the club or dressed for ages. Then as if in a trance, I put depilating cream all over my body waited three minutes and then showered. It was coming up to lunch time when I put tight stretch blue jeans over my black satin panties, suspender belt and full slip- also black. I also put on a little black jacket. My shoes were girls, but flat. Light makeup, costume jewellery, nail varnish and perfume completed the effect. I was out to meet men. I knew it was dangerous in broad daylight, but I drove to the site, next to a disused road. Big girlie and expensive sunglasses gave me a false sense of anonymity and added to my allure. There were lots of cars parked when I drove in. My heart was racing as I sat there, trying to stop myself getting out. Men walked past, staring in at me and another guy was visible in my rear view mirror. I retouched my lipstick and sprayed on a little more perfume. I also undid the top three buttons of my jacket. This gave a good view of the top of my lace and satin slip, and the bra underneath it. Then I just grabbed my little bag, and got out of the car. My hands were shaking as I zapped the lock I looked coyly at the ground as tripped past my car and others, toward the disused road. I moved fairly slowly, clenching my buttocks to make sure my pert bottom wiggled seductively. I almost immediately, a bald headed man in a suit started to follow. Fear and excitement were overwhelming me. I kept walking and the man kept his distance until I reached a pathway that led toward an industrial estate on the other side of the road. He was about ten yards behind me. I stepped into a gap in the hedge, where there were some skinny trees. I leaned against one. As the man came into the hollow, I looked at the ground, very coyly. He walked past and just stood there. Nothing happened. I thought he might be a cop, so I made no move. After a few minutes, I left the cover and followed the path, going under the underpass. The man followed, until I disappeared into a hedge on the other side. He seemed to be giving up the chase, so I retraced my steps, heart still fluttering. Instead of going right into the previous cover, I saw a more concealed and broader section of hidden woodland. The skinhead saw me walk cautiously through the undergrowth, until I was once again backed up against a tree. He walked straight up to me, staring at my slim thighs and wide space between my legs- my little prick was tucked flat between my legs and balls behind my pubic bone. A black panty girdle held all in place. Over the girdle I wore black satin and lace French knickers. I was so excited and afraid because he was going to see it all any minute. He wasted no time undoing my jacket and mauling my breasts, pulling them out of the slip and bra cups to suck and bite them. I shuddered with fear and excitement. Then his hand went to unbuckle my belt. He popped the button holding my jeans together and whipped down my zip. I was shaking as he pulled them down to my ankles; the black satin and lace slip cascading over my black seamed stocking legs. He put his big rough hand up my slip. His face closed to my chest, I could feel his abrasive whiskers. He’s grunting with pleasure and smelled of sweat. His hand was gripping the mound of my sex, and then he started to stroke the skin underneath which my balls were trapped. He said nothing and nor did I. I lay back against the tree, moaning, eyes closed for a moment. Then I felt his hand inside my French knickers, pressing my womanly mound through the satin panel covering it. His fingers were going further in, inside the leg of my girdle. I didn’t want this. I wanted to come in my panties. But I was helpless. I looked down at the pretty black lace hem and satin of my slip. It hid my hated little prick. I felt it swelling. I could not stop him. He was pulling so hard on my little shaft that the head was exposed. Not a word was spoken as he started to wank me vigorously and painfully, my balls still tucked up behind my pubic bone. I opened my eyes and saw my prick hard and peeking out from under my slip. I was close to orgasm, when I noticed that four insalubrious looking men had crept up and were leering and watching me. I was even closer to cumming now and knowing they were going to see me come was humiliating, yet overpoweringly exciting. They did not speak; they were laughing at me though. It was all too much as the most powerful orgasm I could recall came with a massive jet of my cum. I cried out, then sagged back against the tree, trying to cover myself and hoping they would all go away. The man, who had done it to me, looked into my face, smiled, patted my satin pantied bottom and walked away. The other men did not. They came closer, demanding their turn to play with my exhausted little weeping sex. That was only four weeks ago, and now I can’t help myself again. I am sure there will be readers who have seen me. There may be some who have done things to me. If so, I would like to read their comments.