Three guys and a girl get busy in the forest.
Are you feeling receptive, baby?" Marion said as she scooped some of my leaking precum with her finger and fed it to me.
We sipped more wine and she handed me some sheer black thigh high stockings to hold.
"Here, baby, put these stockings on."
As I pulled them up my smooth leg the plug pressed on my prostate and I unconsciously wriggled a bit extra, inviting the pleasure. Marion talked.
"Mmm, you know baby, whenever I put on stockings I feel so sexy and feminine. I feel like I want to get fucked. Is that the way you feel? Sexy and feminine. Do you want to get fucked? I think so. Your cock is getting harder. Don't they feel good sliding up your legs? Men don't get to feel that silky glide, that delicate gossamer flowing up their legs, leading their fingers to pleasure, do they. But you feel it."
She fed me more precum and as I sat there putting on the other stocking I did feel more feminine, more receptive, more vulnerable. The stockings came high up, very close to my crotch.
"Lovely. Now let's get these shoes on," Marion said as she handed me black strappy sandals with five inch heels. I want to see your toes, baby. I think you'll like it too. I think you'll like to see your painted toenails while you get fucked. And the ankle straps will make sure they don't come off while you're writhing around."
"Stand up and lean over the vanity." I took another sip of wine and complied. "No, on your elbows, baby. That's better."
I leaned on the vanity, my head slightly lower than my rear in my five inch strappy pumps. I looked at myself in the mirror, my blonde hair flowing in front of my shoulders and framing my face. Once again I was looking at another person, a beautiful woman. I was astounded, could hardly believe it was me. I felt something being pressed across the small of my back.
"What do you think of women with tattoos, baby? What assumptions do you make? Used to be only people on the fringes of mainstream society got tattoos, but they're more popular now, aren't they. I mean, even lawyers and accountants have them now. But people still make assumptions, don't they. Especially about women with tattoos. About their sexuality, their inhibitions. About the carnal promise of a woman with a tattoo. Isn't that right."
Marion began to draw on me with a black marker and she talked.
"You see, baby, a woman with a tattoo holds out the promise of sexual adventure. That she's uninhibited. Doesn't matter if a woman is submissive or dominant. A tattoo holds out the promise of the woman being uninhibited in bed. That she's up for anything. That she'll put her mouth anywhere."
"You're already so feminine and receptive. This tattoo will let you be completely uninhibited. You can't see it, but you know it's there, like a sign telling everybody what a slut you're willing to be. That you'll do anything." She peeled the stencil off.
"Here, look in the mirror at your promise. Imagine yourself getting fucked while your lover looks at your tattoo and thinks about all the things you're willing to do? That your lover plans to do to you."
I held the mirror up and looked at my reflection. Marion had stenciled a simple tribal tattoo across my lower back. The center had a heart shape that worked well with the overall design. It was attractive.
"Do you like it, baby? I like the heart in the middle. A little feminine touch to remind your lover that you're still a lady, even though you're a slut. Here, have some wine I'll be right back."
I sipped some wine and looked at myself in the mirror: slim figure, gorgeous sandy blonde hair with highlights, dangly ebony earrings that caught the light and sheer black very high thigh highs. Unbelievable.
Marion returned and told me to sit down and I reveled in the pleasure inside me. I watched her organize the straps, bend down and step into the harness. She pulled it up under her raised dress, adjusted its placement and said, "I like this strapon. It sits and hits me just right. There, that should do it," she said as she tightened the straps.
"Are you feeling it, the mo