devin dickie
patreon
Dogging Danette by Throne
🕑 Added 2024-09-16 08:45:08 +0000 UTCDogging Danette by Throne
My wife Bree had dressed me in an outfit I'd never seen before. It was a school letter-sweater and a very short skirt plus dark panties, which made me resemble a cheerleader. Tights and pink athletic shoes enhanced that look. She did my make-up, including foundation, blush, and several products on my eyes. None of it was overstated, except for dark red lipstick that she applied with a heavy hand. The transformation was finished off with a short blond wig. When she let me see myself in the mirror, I was impressed by how convincing I looked. She said, "Goodbye Danny and hello Danette." I shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "You're not inviting any of your girlfriends over to see me, like the other time?" "Would I do that, pumpkin?" she said affectionately. "You know that I'm simply trying to make your dreams come true. Even the ones you haven't admitted to yourself that you have." "Like that thing you make me put in my mouth?" She laughed. "You mean your practice dildo? That lifelike one that you've learned to deepthroat?" "You know that's what I'm talking about," I shot back petulantly. "Well, our agreement, after I found out about your naughty dress-up habit, was that we'd stay married and I'd play along with what you liked, but that you had to let me take the lead. Or did you forget?" "No, dear," I admitted with a sigh. "And hasn't it all worked out so far?" "Mostly." "Oh, don't be a Grouchy Gretchen. Even when you act like I've pushed you too far, your little pecker tells me otherwise. Didn't it get hard last weekend, when I took you out, looking all girly, for a ride?" "Yes, but you didn't have to use the drive-through at that fast food place." She patted my bottom, "Would you rather have gone inside?" "You know I wouldn't." "We're going for another ride this evening, but no burgers and fries this time. Though I do think the young lady at the pick-up window liked your paisley blouse when she got a peek at you." I felt my cheeks get warm and knew I was blushing. Bree gave me an air kiss, in the general vicinity of my cheek. "Please," I said. "Can't we just stay home?" "That wouldn't be any fun for me," she pointed out. "And you wouldn't get to have a new and exciting experience." We proceeded through the kitchen to the door that led directly into our garage. At least there was no chance of anyone seeing me as I left. Once we were in the car, I was glad there weren't more lights on our street. It was a relief to get out of the neighborhood. Where was she taking me? We drove through the darkness and out of town, deeper into the moonlit night. Soon we were in a wooded area. She turned off the road, onto an unpaved lane that led past several parked cars, in which I could see couples making out. One of them had only the male driver visible, but from the way his head was thrown back, I knew there was someone with their face in his lap. We pulled into a secluded area, with no other vehicles around. She explained that, as remote as the area was, and as little interest as law enforcement had ever shown in patrolling it, we would be undisturbed. As I sat there nervously anticipating what came next, Bree got out and attached something to the passenger side rear view mirror. OMG. It was a bright yellow pair of my panties. "That should be plenty visible to anybody who's responding to my post." "What post?" I asked, fearful of what the answer would be. She said, "Have you ever heard of dogging? Where the girl in the passenger seat has her window rolled down, and any guy who comes up to her side of the car and pulls out his dick gets a free blowjob?" "Oh no." "Yes. And the notice I put online announced that we'd be here from eight until midnight, with you as the star attraction." "We have to go home." "And disappoint any guys who show up? That's not going to happen." "What if they can tell I'm not a real girl?" "No problem, Danette. I included that fact. Whoever comes will being expecting a warm wet mouth, belonging to my sissy husband." "I can't do it." "Do you mean that you'd rather I kick you out of the car and let you find your own way home, dressed like you are?" "You wouldn't do that." Her cool stare left me uncertain about that. My shoulders slumped. "Okay," I conceded. "But maybe just one or two guys." "Let's see how good the turnout is. There might not be anybody or you might have a line back to those trees. It's about three minutes to eight now. I can't wait to see what happens." I tried not to think about having been put into that unwanted position. Right on time, a sleek, low-slung car rolled in near us and stopped. The man who got out was short and broadly built, with a ruggedly handsome face. His short sleeve shirt let me see his muscular arms. His dark hair was crew cut. He came up to my window, fingered the panties that told him he was in the right place, and wanted to know, "What's your name, princess?" "I'm Danette," I replied in a wispy voice. "You can call me Steve. I like your looks," he complimented. "In fact, I'm not even sure you're really a dude. Lift up your chin." Not sure why he wanted me to do that, I obeyed nevertheless, with my nerves humming. He stroked the front of my neck, nodded, and gave me a lopsided smile. "There it is," she confirmed. "An Adam's apple. Now let's check your sucking skills. Open up and look pretty." Bree pushed against the middle of my back. I opened my mouth. Steve inserted one thick finger. I tasted something and realized it was tobacco. My wife hissed into my ear, "Show him what you can do. Don't let all that practice go to waste." I sealed my lips around his digit and applied suction. From the training I'd been given, my tongue went into motion, up and down its length and around the end. He smiled down at me. "How'd you get to be so good?" He squatted, finger still in place, and said to Bree, "So you're his wife, like you said on the invitation?" "Right. He's honed his skills on a long thick rubber cock. My Danette can take whatever you've got, which I'm guessing from the bulge in your pants is a jawbreaker." "I've never had any complaints," he boasted. His finger came out with a wet pop. Then he undid his belt, opened his pants, and lowered them to half-mast. I found myself staring at a cock that, even flaccid, was much bigger than mine. He pushed himself up against the car. My wife said, "Showtime." I puckered up and kissed the dangling head. After a few repetitions of that, he was rising and enlarging. I took in the head and mouthed it experimentally. It was like the faux phallus at home, except that it was warm and, instead of rubber it tasted like sweat. Another flavor registered on my tongue. He must be leaking precum already. Behind me, Bree chuckled. She was enjoying this more than I was. My wife reached around and got her hand under my abbreviated skirt. She could feel that I wasn't hard, but neither was I completely soft. I guess you could say I had a chubby. She took away her hand, probably so I couldn't blame any reaction on being touched there. She most likely thought, if I did get stiff, she wanted to be able to say it was entirely from giving head. My attention shifted back to Steve. I was on autopilot, rubbing my tongue along the underside of his tool. I paid more attention to what I was in the middle of doing, cautiously taking in several more inches. As had been true after many practice sessions, my former gag reflex didn't assert itself. What must Steve be thinking, if I could take him so deep that easily? His hips began to jerk, and he pushed himself further in and withdrew, establishing a slow rhythm. Was I sucking him off or was he humping my face? I pushed forward to meet his thrusts, taking him in further each time. Soon, he was balls-deep, his scrotum bumping my chin each time. I heard him moaning and blowing out his breath. He slowed down. I took the hint and backed off. Only halfway in, he stopped moving his pelvis. I resumed sucking and swirling, sensing that he didn't want to finish just yet. Bree playfully fingered the back of my neck, under the wig. Minutes passed. Steve's meat twitched in my mouth. He was getting close to spurting, whether he was ready or not. I backed off until only the knob of his enviable cock was in my mouth, then sucked hard, with my tongue stimulating the receptive frenum, under the head. That did the trick. He groaned loudly. His hands slapped the roof of the car. He held onto the sides of the window frame after that. All at once, he was unloading his heavy balls, hosing the roof of my mouth with so much cream that it puddled under my tongue. I belatedly began to swallow. At the same time, I coaxed out more ejaculate by milking him with the circle of my lips. Not wanting to spoil his pleasure, I held onto him until he was limp, before I retreated and let him slip free. He heaved a deep breath and packed himself back into his pants. Steve brought his face down again. "Lady," he said to my wife, "your sissy must have done a lot of guys to get that good." "Nope. I just made him practice on a fake prick a whole lot. You're the first live one he's had. Now, I'm sure he wants to thank you." Steve locked eyes with me. The inside of my mouth was still coated with his spunk. I meekly told him, "Thank you for letting me do that." What else would he want to hear? "I hope you liked it," I finished lamely. "As if you couldn't tell." He grinned at me. "Now lick your lips and say goodbye, Danielle." I did as he told me, realizing that I had his cream on the outside of my mouth. It bothered me a bit that he got my name wrong, sort of like I was more of a mouth than a full person. Still, that suggestion of anonymity allowed me to distance myself from what I'd just done. He got into his expensive car, backed out, and was gone. I listened with mixed feelings to the sounds of his departure. Before I had much time to think, another car rolled in and two men got out. They were in their early twenties, with wiry builds, wearing muscle shirts and faded jeans. They had unruly hair and tattoos. One came up to my window and pulled out his cock. It wasn't small like mine, but a lot less impressive than Steve's. His companion stood behind him. I got to work right away, aware that I had two to accommodate. The first guy grabbed the sides of my head and used me roughly. He shot his semen down my throat. Before he had zipped up, the other one was out and stroking himself into an erection. He plugged in like I was some sort of automated convenience and showed himself to be a premature ejaculator, at least in this case. He also aimed for the back of my throat. They left without saying a word. A pair of cars entered our space, one right behind the other. The driver of the first got out and approached, while the other watched intently without exiting. This guy had on a plaid shirt and loose slacks. He was the least well-endowed so far. His dick was almost as puny as mine. I knew better than to say anything. Instead, I licked him all over to get the action started. He said, "Kiss it. Pucker up and make love to my cock with just your lips." I was in no position to dispute what he wanted. I cupped his balls on my palm and lavished kisses up and down his rod. Then I placed a series of smooches all over the head. He kept muttering encouragement and approval. "Enough of that," he said with authority. "Now suck it like a good bitch." I wondered if his words were compensating for his limited penis dimensions but was too occupied to think further. It was easy to get him entirely into my mouth. I used my tongue, combined with some heavy sucking. He didn't last very long. His small member squirted a lot of spend, forcing me to gulp it down. He muttered a quick thanks before retreating to his car. The overweight fellow who had been watching looked around, as if wanting to make sure he wasn't cutting in ahead of anyone else. He got out of his old car and I saw that he had on a shirt from one of those fast-food chains, though not the same one where we had visited the drive-in. When he reached us, he hesitated. "Um, do I just take it out?" I was fairly involved by then, and didn't want to displease my wife, so I assumed a sultry voice and said, "That's right, honey. I'm ready for you." He fumbled with his fly and freed a stubby pecker. As he stepped closer, I could smell the residue of deep fryers. He obviously had come straight from work. I kind of felt sympathetic. Figuring it might help him to relax, I started with a hand job. He responded right away. This one grew into a six-incher, but was disproportionately thick. I teasingly lapped at the business end of his cock, while still stroking. His girth sure filled my hand. While I was catering to him, I noticed that I had gotten hard inside my panties. If Bree asked me about it later, I would have to tell her the truth. She had taken me past what I believed were my limits, but I reacted as if I had always wanted to be pushed that far. She knew me better than I knew myself. I took my latest partner into my mouth and treated his endowment like it was a candy stick and I loved sweets. He purred happily. I thought he was going to start humming a tune, he was making so many of those sounds. He also lasted a long time. My wife whispered to me that I was doing a fine job. He grunted unexpectedly and fed me the contents of his testicles. There was a lull after that. A delayed wave of guilt washed over me. It was brought on by what I had done, but also by the knowledge that I had enjoyed it at some level. I suppose a lot of sissies like me feel that way. Bree wanted to know, "How are you doing, Danette?" "Remember how you were checking me earlier, feeling the front of my panties?" "Uh huh. Did my naughty girl get all aroused?" "Yes," I confessed shamefacedly. "Aw, don't look so conflicted. This is what dress-up boys like you dream of. Most of them don't have an understanding wife like me to help them achieve it. What do you say, Danette?" "Thank you, dear." "I'd give you a big kiss, but not with the present state of your mouth. In fact, let me fix your lipstick. I think you left most of it those last few cocks." She lovingly repainted my mouth in that bold color, referring to it as Cheerleader Red, and then as Man Sucker Crimson, chortling with each name she gave it. Shortly after she finished, a pick-up truck appeared. The driver was a tall lanky guy in what I took to be cowboy drag, with a denim shirt, worn jeans, the appropriate boots, and a wide belt with a heavy buckle. He sported a ball cap instead of a cowboy hat, and finished off his outfit with a leather vest. He came to the car, touching his sparse blond mustache with one finger. "You're the sucking sissy," he said, a declaration rather than a question. "I got something for you. Tell me you want it." "I... um... want what you've got, Sir." "Damn right you do. In fact, you're drooling for what's in my pants, aren't you, pansy?" What he wanted to hear registered in my mind. I used an imploring tone as I said, "I want it so bad. Please let me have it." To seal the deal, I added, "I'm starving for your big cock." I figured it was smart to compliment his size, even though I hadn't seen anything yet. "That's right. You are," he stated repetitiously. Hey. Some of us love to dress up femme and some of them like to pretend they're irresistible. Who am I to criticize? He still wasn't unpacking his package, so I offered, "I'm not going to be able to stand it if I can't put my mouth on your beef." That did it. He opened that statement-piece of a belt, undid his pants, lowered his fly, and whipped out a stick that justified all those words he'd had me say. It was already starting to stand at attention, and required minimal effort from me to reach full pride. My previous shame melted away, replaced by a need to do the best job possible. It's curious, when the sex was one way, with me giving and receiving nothing equivalent in return, how my sex drive was redirected to pleasing my partner. I started right out by taking him in all the way. He let out a muffled cry that, at full volume, would have sounded right at a rodeo. I bobbed up and down on him spiritedly. Only when he acted close to finishing did I slow down. Then I slithered my tongue all over him, even lapping his balls. After he settled down some, I gave him another round of my rapid attack. It went back and forth between those two extremes for quite a while, until I decided that it was by then me, and not him, who was calling the shots. When I made him explode, he sounded like he was on the verge of swooning. I held onto him until he was entirely flaccid, backed off until only the knob was still inside, and gifted him with a half dozen final sucks, which I could tell that he relished. He put himself away and swaggered off, as if he had just won the bull riding event, but I couldn't miss how his legs threatened to buckle when he reached his truck. Two effeminate men showed up ten minutes later. They were less interested in what I offered than in quizzing Bree and I about being there and what had already transpired. She invited them to sit in the back seat while we chatted. They were jealous of me, complimented my cheerleader costume, and asked for the name of that lipstick I had on. The one seemed to have limited butch credentials. They returned to their compact car without wanting anything from me. While we observed, they reenacted what I had been doing, with the less swishy one getting taken care of. Then they waved goodbye and drove off. Bree said, "I think we just did our good deed for the night. Along with all the other ones before." She consulted her watch. "It's almost quitting time. Let's see if there are any late arrivals." Even though I had found a lot to like about my evening, and was still wrestling with some uncertainties, I was ready for it to be done. How many men had I had in my mouth? How much semen had I ingested? My wife had her keys out and was about to start the car, when a late model sedan showed up, going very slow. It stopped and a guy in a sport coat appeared. He was middle-aged and his hair was slicked down against his scalp. He came to my window and bent over so we were eye-to-eye. He also took in my wife with his gaze. Clearing his throat, he said, "I know you're hear for dogging, but I was wondering if I could request something a tiny bit different." Taking the lead, Bree said, "Let's hear it." "I was wondering if I could sit in the back seat and have..." He gestured toward me. Bree supplied my feminine name, "...Danette." He went on, "If I could have Danette be sort of like my date. In that cheerleader outfit, it could be after our school's big game. And she would... do what she does... for me while we're parked out in the dark." My wife told him, "I know Danette would be happy to act out that scene. And I'd love to see her do it. Let's get you both back there and, if nobody objects, I'm going to play voyeur and see it in the rear-view mirror." He informed us, "My name's Bill, by the way." I got into the rear of the car with him, and adjusted my proximity so I was positioned to go down on him. He reached over and sheepishly took my hand. His finger rubbed my palm. He said, "Danette, I've heard that you're good at... err... making guys happy." "I sure am," I replied silkily, not sure exactly how he wanted this to proceed. Was he seeking the class slut or something else? "I'm sort of new at it," Bill shared, "so, if you could kind of make all the moves..." "I know exactly what you need," I told him, feeling like a classy prostitute about to give The Girlfriend Experience. With that, I placed a hand on his thigh. I didn't imagine he'd want a kiss, considering the workout my mouth had undergone, without being cleaned afterward. My fingers advanced to his crotch, where I found a pleasingly substantial organ. He had no reason to be timid in that department. I massaged him to rigidity, lowered his fly, and entered the masturbation stage. He closed his eyes, perhaps fantasizing some event that had taken place in his past, or one that he had longed for but which never occurred. His eyelids fluttered. I bent over slowly, began with a few butterfly kisses, and then sweetly engulfed him. He murmured softly, either to me or himself or someone absent. There was some active mouth-work before I downshifted to half-speed and stayed there, doing nothing fancy, hoping that he was getting what he had lacked. Bill placed a hand between my shoulder blades, ever so lightly, and left it there. My head rose and fell in an unhurried tempo. I squeezed his knee reassuringly. After a timeless period, he was nearing his climax. It happened naturally, with not extra coaxing from me. His output was plentiful. He spoke some words that I couldn't discern. When I was confident that he'd had everything that he'd longed for, I rose up, tucked him back into his pants, and got everything closed. Bill glanced around like he was emerging from a dream. He excused himself, gave a brief thanks, repeated it, took my hand to squeeze it, and then let himself out. He scurried to his car and left us, his taillights vanishing. I requested Bree's permission to rejoin her in the front seat. Asking felt right because she had put me into such a submissive mood. My wife said yes, but told me to retrieve that spare pair of panties that had been serving as a signal flag from the mirror. I got in next to her, clutching the lingerie to the front of my letter sweater and patted my wig in a girlish way. She decided, "Somebody needs to be rewarded when we get home." "For doing a good job?" "That and for being honest about it with yourself. I knew this was a big step for you and wanted it to work out the best way it possibly could, which I think is exactly what happened." "Agreed," was my one-word response. I smiled sheepishly. She gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder. Bree started the car. She mused out loud about what we might do next week. "Do you mean this again?" In my voice I heard a combination of concern and eagerness. "Maybe a more formal situation," she said. "Among a group of people who enjoy alternative lifestyles similar to ours." "You have something like that planned?" "Perhaps," she said mysteriously. "But you'll have to wait to find out. Let's just say that you're not done trying new things and learning about the real you, Danette." That was a good enough answer for me. ********* (That turned out rather well. Would you want to be in Danette's place?)
