Coming home early and catching my husband’s friend prancing about in our bedroom wearing my clothes and makeup was quite embarrassing. Even more harrowing was the fact that his legs were better than mine. He was wearing one of my “slut skirts,” a long maxi skirt slit up to the hip on both sides; my “whore red” lipstick; and one of my revealing tops, so thin that it was almost transparent. I gasped when I saw that he was wearing a pair of my high heels—light brown stiletto heels.

He was standing in front of the full-length mirror, stroking his cock. “I’m a whore,” he announced to his reflection. “Use me like a slut.”

When he heard my shocked gasp, he turned around a priceless amalgam of guilt, shame, and terror on his face. I was stunned, at a rare loss for words.

“Oh, fuck. I…I’m so sorry, Krys, I, umm, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I, ah fuck…”

“That’s disgusting, Justin,” I replied, finding a calm evenness in my voice, despite my initial, emotional reaction. “Brown heels with a black top is a terrible choice, disgusting. Try the black three-inch ones instead of my fuck-me pumps.”

Justin is a mutual friend, staying with us for a few days while his apartment was being repainted. Effeminate and thin of body, he was in his late twenties and had shoulder-length, naturally-black hair with just a slight waviness to give it some extra body. We got along quite well and enjoyed each other’s company. Always polite and respectful, catching him cavorting in drag and masturbating was quite the surprise.

“Wait,” he stopped his yammering. “You’re not upset?”

“You should have asked rather than going through my stuff. That’s creepy and an invasion of privacy. I’m upset about that, more so about those heels, though. They clash.”

“Sorry, Krys,” he said with sincerity. “It’s just that you dress so sexy, and you’re such a powerful woman that I was overwhelmed, and I couldn’t help it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re masturbating in my bedroom wearing my clothes, Justin.”

His voice grew timid and sheepish. “Justina.”

“Huh?” I’m always so witty. “You want to become a woman? You can do that if you really want to.”

“No,” he confessed, sitting down on the bed. “Justina is my alter-ego. Sometimes I let her out to play, and you were gone and have the best clothes. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, Justina,” I interrupted. “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself while we get you dressed properly? Go grab my makeup case and the black pumps. Color-coordinated is sexy; clashing colors are horrendous.”

Twenty minutes later, Justina was made up like a proper whore. I toned down the lipstick, added a wisp of eye shadow, and some blush to bring out Justin’s pronounced cheekbones. Those clashing heels were replaced with matching ones, and a matching pair of panties and a bra completed the ensemble. With some wadded-up tissue paper in the cups, one would have to look very intently to note that Justina was actually Justin. He looked sexier in my clothes than I do.

Justina was not only his alter-ego but a slutty one at that. I ignored the implications of him raiding my closet to dress up like a whore. He had her entire personality mapped out. Justina was very loose, morally, into men and women, and no amount of debauchery was too intense for her. Justina was also a self-professed cum-dumpster. Finally, as if Justin was my personal dress-up doll, I’d transformed him into Justina, a classy, cum-craving slut.

“Wow,” Justina said to me as she admired herself in the mirror. “I see what you mean, and these shoes match so much better.”

“Where’s your phone? Let’s get a picture.”

Justin, dressed as a harlot, posed with enthusiasm. I got some basic shots from various angles, then began directing.

“Stick your hot, sexy tits out, you little whore. Now, extend one leg, so the skirt opens enough to reveal your lacy, slutty panties. You have a nice cock, Justina, sticking out like that. Stroke your cock through your panties, you fucking, trashy slut.”

Mesmerized, I watched as Justin started jacking again, fondling her fake boobs, slapping her ass, and calling herself a slut and a whore. I kept snapping pictures, and we were having a wonderful, naughty time.

“I’m going to cum,” Justina told me. “Where do you want it?”

Dropping to my knees, I said, “In my mouth. Fill my throat with your lady-cum.”

Regretfully, Justin didn’t manage the two steps toward me to shoot his wad into my mouth. Instead, it spewed all over the floor, my skirt, and my newly-shined pumps.

“Sorry,” Justina said to me. “Too excited, and you’re so hot. If you weren’t married, I’d be all over you.”

“Well,” I confessed. “I’ve never been fucked by a man wearing a dress, before. That might be fun. Get it up, again, and maybe we can have some fun.”

“But you’re married!”

“He gets off on it. It’s fine.”

“So, do you want to?”

“Later. Let’s go out, so you can show off how sexy you are.”

“I don’t know,” Justina’s voice lowered to become Justin once more. “Won’t people laugh at me?”

“Trust me, I know just the place.”

Less than two hours later, we two girls were in the city at a well-known LGBTQ club. It was a place where anyone could go and not be bothered if they wanted solace. It was also a wild and unruly club where one could fly their freak flag at full mast without being harassed. Justin wasn’t the only cross-dresser there, but he was the one with the best makeup.

We ordered drinks as the bartender, a sexy lesbian with multicolored hair, eyed me up. Finding a table near the dance floor, we had a few drinks and enjoyed the atmosphere.

“Come on, girlfriend,” Justina cried, grabbing my hand. “Let’s dance.”

“I, uh, don’t dance, Justin. I mean, Justina,” I corrected myself.

“Poo-poo,” she said, extending one arm and flapping her wrist down. “All girls dance, they just think they don’t.”

The jovial atmosphere and Justina’s giddiness at being out in public in drag also put me in a festive mood. I let her pull me out of my seat and onto the dance floor. There, amid leather-clad bears, gay men dressed in the height of urban fashion, and lesbians of every conceivable type, the fact that my dancing resembles epilepsy didn’t matter. Justina’s exuberant voice grew high and shrill. She was soon sandwiched between a sexy, topless woman with small breasts, her nipples covered with black tape, and a hairy man with a jolly face wearing biker leather.

After dancing to the point of being overheated, we all sat at our table together.

“I’m Christopher,” the burly man said, extending his hand.

“I’m Krystal, and this is my friend Justin/ Justina.”

With a dramatic and gallant display, the large man kissed Justin’s hand. “Charmed,” he said.

Justina giggled. “This is my first time in public like this. I’m so excited.”

Those two were hitting it off quite well, so I stayed out of the conversation and got to know the other woman. Her name was Daphne, and she was a lithe, little blond that was slight in build and so sexy. Her shiny blond hair contrasted with the collar she was wearing.

“I’m owned by my Mistress,” she mentioned.

We conversed, with me feeling a sort of emotional connection and physical attraction between us. When I glanced over to make sure Justin was enjoying himself, I saw that Christopher was caressing Justina’s arm, and they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“Let’s go to the VIP room,” the leather-clad man suggested.

“What’s that?”

Daphne pointed to a closed door with a “No Admittance” sign taped to it. “If somebody wants to do some private dancing, they can rent the VIP room for a while.”

“Yeah,” Christopher said. “Justina wants me to break her cherry.”

“I want Krystal to be there in case I freak out,” Justina said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” I answered. “I’d love to see that.” So, off we went, the four of us.

The room was decorated in swanky, flamboyant themes. Liberace would have felt right at home. Wasting no time, Justina dropped to her knees, hands fumbling at Christopher’s belt.

“Fuck this slut’s horny face,” she said.

Sitting on a nearby, crushed-velvet couch, I watched as Justin, my cross-dressing friend, sucked her first cock as Justina. Delicate and timid, at first, I watched as Justina moaned, gingerly taking the man’s hard cock in her mouth. My friend’s head bobbed up and down, barely an inch or so, and she began to moan a little.

“That’s it, Justina, suck his cock,” Daphne laughed as she sat beside me. Her perfume was exotic and sensual. “Take it like a good, little slut.”

“Relax your jaw and throat and fuck that cock with your mouth,” I shouted out my encouragement. "Show us what a cum-dumpster Justina is.”

The effect on Justin was visually obvious. He was panting and moaning over the cock, thrusting his mouth deeper and deeper down the shaft with every plunge. Sweat beaded his brow as he milked the shaft with his mouth.

Pausing as I watched, I noticed that Daphne was hungrily staring. One of her hands was clamped between her thighs, and her breath was coming out in ragged, aroused heaves.

“Daphne,” the hairy bear of a man said. “Lube up this bitch’s ass, so I can fuck it.”

He addressed Justina. “If you want my big, thick cock up your ass, that is.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Justina moaned over his cock.

Daphne sprung up and hurried over. Gently pushing Justina down to all fours, she flipped up the skirt, pulled my panties off of Justin, and pressed her mouth against his ass. The sight of watching my friend, wearing my clothes, while he let his inner Justina suck cock and get rimmed was so dirty and sensual that I openly fingered myself, watching the scene unfold.

Christopher began moaning as they found their rhythm. Justina was rocking back and forth, shoving her mouth over the cock, fucking it with her face, then pushing her bare ass into Daphne’s tongue. My new, blond friend must have been aroused because she was fingering her cunt as she rimmed.

“That’s it, suck that cock, you little cum-slut.”

“Call me a sissy,” Justina pled.

“Sorry, my boy,” he replied. “We don’t use that term around here. Now suck my cock, you whore.”

I watched the three of them moan, grunted, and groaned, adding my masturbatory cries into the mix.

“His ass is ready for you, Bear,” Daphne said.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised as he repositioned.

Leaving her station, Daphne returned to my side. Her face lit up with horny lust when she saw my fingers buried in my dripping cunt. She shrugged, glancing at me, and spread her legs, pushing the crotch of her panties aside, and began fingering her slit.

We watched and fingered ourselves, lost in Justina’s moans as the head of Christopher’s cock penetrated his virgin hole.

“If you dress like a little whore, you’ll get fucked like one!” Still wearing the leather shirt, Christopher grunted, forcing his hard cock into Justina’s ass.

“Hey,” I objected, “those are my everyday clothes.” Everyone laughed.

“Your cock’s in my ass. You’re fucking this little whore’s ass,” Justina said, although the voice was Justin’s. “Fuck it, take this whore’s butt.”

The hairy bear savagely plundered my friend’s ass, only lasting a few minutes. He grunted and screamed as he unloaded his cum, his cock buried as deeply as it could go. Then, he pulled out.

“Now, a good slut drinks the cum out of the condom,” he instructed. “Suck it out as good as you sucked my cock.”

I watched, my fingers flying over my clit as Justina turned over onto her back, legs spread, and started furiously masturbating, sucking the other man’s cum from the used sheath. Christopher saw the turgid meat and pulled Justin’s hand out of the way, lowering his mouth onto the shaft.

The man had done this enough that he was a better cocksucker than me. He took the entire length in one, smooth action, his hand moving to fondle Justina’s balls and plunge a finger into his freshly-fucked sphincter. That did it for me, and I came with an intense orgasm, moaning and grunting as I writhed on the couch.

As I started to come down, I felt Daphne’s fingers in my wetness and heard her repeating “fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over. Her words trailed off into primal whimpers, her head thrashing about. Her spasms and undulating chest, heaving under the pleasure, let me know that she’d just had an orgasm as well.

After we’d settled down a bit, we sat there, legs spread and crossed over the other’s, lightly stroking each other’s pussies, watching my friend get sucked off by another man while feasting on cum. It wasn’t long before Justina blew her load.

“This slut’s cock is coming,” she cried. “Please don’t stop.”

Christopher redoubled his efforts, sucking harder and plunging down until his lips were pressed against Justina’s balls. He moaned, drinking all the cum. When it was all over, I got Daphne’s cellphone number, as she was also bisexual. I suggested a threesome or a foursome with her mistress, but she had to check with her owner first.

Christopher and Justin talked, getting to know each other a little better, while they held each other with gentle aftercare. Then, we drove back home.

“Thank you, Krystal,” Justin said. “I’d masturbated over doing that, but never had the courage.”

“Don’t sweat it. It was fun. I can’t wait to tell my husband.” 

”How can I thank you?”

“You owe me a new outfit, you got cum all over mine.”