Page 44 of Never Say Never

I nod, grinning even harder.

“What?” he asks.

My face won’t stop grinning stupidly, even when I try to pull my lips into something serious. “Your ass…” I say it kind of like it’s a question.

“What about it?” he says.

“It’s mine,” I say.

“Yes it is,” he says.

I lean in and kiss him, stupid happy, still all headrushy, my clit still banging out its pleasure song beneath the leather harness. I may not keep falling in love with Joseph because of his ass, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CROSSING YOUR T’S —

CROSS-DRESSING

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

I’ll admit that my first taste of the sexiness of a man in lingerie was Tim Curry in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Those mascara-drenched eyes still strike a tuning fork inside of me. I’ve played with cross-dressing in several of my books (in Tiffany Twisted, the hero spends nearly the entire book trapped in a woman’s body, experiencing all the pleasures of being female for the first time). I’ve also plunged my boys into panties in a whole array of short stories, and I’ve returned the favor for my girls.

Cross-dressing can be as simple as wearing an article of clothing that is alien to you. For a man? A pair of the silkiest panties. Marco—my character in “Whose Panties?”—luxuriates in the way it feels to try on something that doesn’t generally suit him:

I watched as he ran his fingertips along one of the stockings. His legs looked good, sexy. His body was very pale against the black silk. I took a step toward him, thinking that I wanted to take the place of his hands; I wanted to run my fingertips along his legs.

“There’s something erotic…” he started to say, looking at his reflection in the mirrored panels around my fireplace, “something so sexy about lingerie.”

I got up my nerve to walk all the way to his side, and once there I settled myself next to him on the couch. His cock was positively protruding against the silk panties, and I could see the full outline of it pressing to be free. I reached out and stroked him lightly through the silky material, and he leaned back against the couch and sighed.

I’ve flipped the switch and dressed my girls as males, as well, like in “Sailor Boy”:

I had purchased a vintage sailor suit at a secondhand store. It was white with a black anchor on the sleeve and a musky, male smell to the fabric, even though I’d had it dry-cleaned. I hung the outfit on the back of the door while I attached the molded cock-shaped dildo to the harness, then slid the straps on and buckled the leather belt around my waist. The cock was as true-to-life as they come, as close to my actual skin color as possible, and ribbed with realistic veins. In length and girth it matched Alex’s almost exactly, which was what I’d wanted. My desire was for him to experience what I get to feel every night.

But cross-dressing can also be a way to slide into a role. Not only to slip into someone else’s knickers, but to be someone else. In my short story “Like a Girl,” Ivy attempts to really be a boy for her lover:

“You’re going to come for me, boy?” Logan murmured, crooning to me, but teasing somehow. Taunting me for dressing like this in the first place. He’d told me to buy an outfit for Cal. He hadn’t told me to dress up myself.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then come.”

My knees would have buckled if Logan hadn’t used one hand to pin my shoulder against the wall, holding me in place easily as the shudders worked through me. The orgasm was almost frighteningly intense. Embarrassingly so, as I was being watched fiercely by the two men in my life. And then it was over, and Logan let me go, and I hiked up my jeans and sank down to the floor, letting the wall support me now.

“You even come like a girl,” Logan said, as he poured himself a fresh drink.

In K. Lynn’s “Undercover,” the pleasure of panties is fully discovered:

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” David said, looking at his boyfriend laid out on the bed. Keith was still fully clothed, waiting for David to undress him. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you wearing them.”

“Yeah?” Keith asked, his voice low and smooth. “Did it make you hard?”

“Couldn’t you tell?” David asked, crawling up the mattress until he was poised over Keith’s thighs. He straddled them, then sat up so that his hands could be free to work. “Every time you passed by me at the office, I was imagining what was underneath. Let’s see if I guessed the color right.”

David unbuttoned Keith’s pants, taking care as he unzipped them to reveal the silky pink material beneath. Keith’s dick was hard in the panties he wore, bulging out against the material as if he was going to break free any moment. David couldn’t suppress the hot want that ran through him at the sight.

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