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False Impressions
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
FALSE IMPRESSIONS
Nile didn't do it consciously. She didn't plan for it
beforehand, she just found herself doing it on that night in a
strange city where she knew no one, although later she realized
she'd been preparing for it for years. She knew where the leath-
er bar was from her evenings spent combing through copies of
Drummer magazine, reading every article and story, getting hot
browsing through the "Dear Sir" sections and reading select ones
out loud to her lover: "Whipmaster seeks slaves; must be ready
to submit to my EVERY desire-no fakes-no phonies. You will
experience pain and the desire to worship." And the photos!
Something about photos of gay men together, especially in black
leather and denim, cocks ringed and nipples studded, was more
erotic to her than most photos of lesbians she had ever seen.
At first her male SM lust frightened her. She went
through her period of worrying that she wasn't a "real" lesbian,
that fantasizing about getting fucked by, or having a cock made
her a fake, but she soon realized if she had to judge her lesbi-
anism by someone else's standards she'd never make it through
reading all the rules, let alone following them. Her lover
encouraged her fantasies and got off on them with her. She let
Nile know she wanted her to feel free to explore all the sides of
herself. When she was a few years younger and spending her
summers in Provincetown she used to go to the men's bars with her
male friends and be cruised by the men in for the weekend, think-
ing this slim-hipped, blond buzz cutted young thing was a hand-
some, if underage, boy. Nile savoured these experiences, drank
in the lustful looks but became terrified when the stray hand
would slide across her backside.
Then her friends would escort her back to the women's
bar, laughing and joking that she got the attention of more of
the hot men in town than they did. So here out of town on a
weekend business trip her lover could not afford to take with
her, Nile found herself putting on her leather chaps, jeans and
motorcycle boots and not stopping to wonder why she had brought,
and was putting on her dildo harness, sliding the flesh colored
latex though it's hole and fitting it snugly down the right leg
of her worn denim and leather. She put her top harness on star-
ing in the mirror at her smallish breasts, and decided the night
was warm enough to wear only her MC jacket on top. She donned
her black cap as well, and in the mirror, with the bulge in her
pants and the soft leather caressing her body, she felt herself
getting wet and frightened at the idea of purposefully pulling
off this deception. The fear was a pleasant mix with the lust as
she left her hotel room and ventured out into unknown territory.
The bar was a short walk from her hotel and for this she
was glad when a car full of young men passed her twice yelling
"Faggot!" and calling for her to suck them off. The bouncer at
the door of the bar let her in without checking her ID, his
attention on threatening the boys in the car with more than they
could ever handle. Nile was grateful for his help and for his
lack of attention to her ID. They didn't seem to have any women
in here. She had passed the first test, if only by default. The
bar was like every other leather bar around the country; dark,
smoky, smelling of beer, men and leather. Nile let herself take
in the strong scents as she looked around the room, trying to
keep moving so she wouldn't be conspicuous. She found a stretch
of wall not occupied and leaned against it, striking the pose;
elbows on the drink rail behind her, one booted foot pushed
against the wall, knee bent, and tried to look relaxed, her heart
pounding with the clandestine energy of being there in disguise
with no one to escort her back to the women's bar should it all
become too much.
The bar was full, all types of men in various combina-
tions of leather, faded denim and skin. The music was loud and
pumping. In some corners of the bar men were grinding against
each other more or less in time to it. She found herself watch-
ing a pair of them, one man in full leather exploring the body of
the other clad only in chaps, a black jock strap, boots and a
collar with chains running from it to his ringed nipples. The
first man held the second by the chains and pulled rhythmically
on them as he ran his other large hand over his slaves' naked
ass. His fingers disappeared between the slaves' ass cheeks and
the slave moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as his master
probed and pulled on the chains.
Nile was rapidly losing herself in this vision from
Drummer and her fantasies coming to life. She couldn't take her
eyes off the pair and as the top forced his slave to it's knees,
pulling him down by the nipple chains. Nile felt her own knees
go weak, the leather of the dildo harness getting sticky and
spongy with her juices as she made small movements against it.
Fearing that she might somehow give herself away, and also that
she might miss something else around the bar she forced herself
to look away from the pair. As she turned her head she found
herself face to face - for a split second - with one of the most
prepossessing men she had ever seen. He held her gaze in an iron
grip as he passed in front of her and continued to the bar where
he was greeted warmly but with obvious respect by the bartender
and a group of three or four good looking men. Her heart had
leapt to her mouth when she had turned to find him-so unexpected-
ly, so close-and now she found herself captivated by the look of
him. He was tall, at least six feet, obviously well built under
the motorcycle jacket. His sandy hair was cut as though a forty
dollar stylist had been enlisted to do a military cut. His
steely eyes held strength, but not attitude. He seemed at home
in the bar and with himself. He wasn't trying to prove anything,
he just was. His mustache was well trimmed and his leather well
cared for. She listened to herself take him in and thought she
might any minute wake up and find she was dreaming a Drummer
inspired wet dream, but no, she was there, staring at him and
before she knew it he had caught her and was staring back, giving
her the appraisal. Her heart jumped again. adrenalin coursing
through her veins, and she could not keep herself from looking
away, though part of her did not want to, wanted to rise to the
challenge and hold his stare. She was just too frightened. She
sneaked a look back in his direction. He was still staring as he
carried on a conversation with the man next to him. He was
judging her, gauging her reactions, thinking, her mind screamed,
that he was cruising a young man! It was too much. She left her
spot in a panic and moved as calmly as her reeling brain would
allow to the other side of the bar. From her secluded corner she
watched the back of his head and wondered what she was doing
there. What did she want to happen? It was too scary to admit
she wanted anything to happen, but she could not deny the mois-
ture seeping into her leather and the desire to challenge that
man, to hold his gaze and then to...What? She couldn't form the
ideas, let alone the words to answer the question just now, but
she wanted something and she knew she'd wanted it for quite some
time. After a few minutes she began to relax. After the shock
of him just being alone in the bar out of his range of vision had
a calming, if slightly disappointing effect. She looked around
her. In this corner of the bar there was a large wooden cross
erected and one man was in the process of securing another to it
with sheepskin lined leather restraints locked to steel rings
mounted on the limbs of the cross. Nile fell into their scene,
once again finding herself in the middle of her favourite fanta-
sy. She was entranced as the Top attached clothespin after
clothespin to the crucified man's taut flesh, remembering the
feeling if those little bites, not really very painful until
whipped off, as the top proceeded to do, using a short flail,
ends tipped with pointed steel studs. The air around the cross
was close, charged with electrical current, broken by the Top
freeing the bottom from the cross twenty minutes later and carry-
ing him lovingly out the front door into the night to continue
their scene in the privacy of their own dungeon. Nile found
herself getting incredibly thirsty. She made her way to the bar,
taking care to be far away from her former appraiser, but he was
nowhere to be seen. She found herself feeling disappointed at
that but reasoned it was probably for the best. Waiting for the
bartender to make his way to her side of the bar she realized she
was being cruised by more than one man. She felt good. Her ego
was being gratified and her fantasy was being at least partially
fulfilled. She was cruised as a man in a men's leather bar. No
one ad questioned her right to be there. They treated her as one
of them. Except the bartender, she thought, who can't be both-
ered with whatever he assumes I am long enough to get me a beer.
It began to seem as though he was avoiding her side of the bar.
She was getting impatient and her cocky edge was returning with
her increasing comfort. She was steeling herself to force her
voice low enough to call for his attention when she felt a hand
on her shoulder, smoothly turning her around.
"Thirsty?" he asked, steely eyes boring into hers. She
felt instantly paralyzed, as though hit in the neck with a tran-
quilizer dart. She managed a slight nod of her head.
He lifted a frosty beer bottle in her direction. "Open
your mouth," he said. She obeyed him, opening her mouth and
wondering how she would continue to stand up with a pounding cunt
and trembling knees. He took the back of her head in his hand
and put the glass bottleneck slowly into her mouth, moving it
almost imperceptibly back and forth as he fed her the cold, sour
beer. He kept his hand where it was as he drank some of the beer
himself and then returned it to her mouth again, repeating this
process until the bottle was empty and Nile was lost in the
sensation of his body close to hers and the bottle entering and
leaving her mouth.
"How old are you?" he demanded, staring intently into her
eyes as though forbidding her to lie. She hesitated. She was
26, but she knew as a boy she looked younger. The only times
she'd ever been carded were when she'd been mistaken for male.
"Answer me, boy!" came his deep, rumbling voice as his grip
tightened on her hair.
"Twenty-one, Sir!" she said, trying not to squeak. She
thought mumbling or whispering would probably be the best way to
disguise her feminine voice. She hoped he wouldn't want military
style answers.
"Bullshit," came the response, "You are not a day over
18. But sometimes I like young meat. Fewer bad habits to
break," he said with subtle emphasis on the word 'break'. He ran
his hand down her ass and she tensed as it threatened to go too
deep and find the stump of the dildo where balls ought to be.
But he had other things on his mind. Abruptly he turned and
headed toward the back of the club. "You coming, boy?" he said
over his shoulder. In that split second it was like the cliche'
of dieing-Nile saw her entire sexual life flash before her eyes,
all the fantasies she'd had, all the books she'd read, all the
risks she'd taken. They all seemed to lead to this. There was
only one answer. She followed him.
He led her to the fire door of the club, opening it and
pushing her through into the alley. The night was warm and there
were pairs of men against the walls, some slowly jerking each
other off while others were more elaborate in taking their pleas-
ures. He took her down the block and turned into a loading
doorway left vacant as though it was his private domain. He
pushed her roughly against the wall and pressed up against her.
She could feel the heat and bulge of his cock through the leather
pants as it grew harder. She was incredibly excited and almost
as scared. She couldn't allow herself to think past each moment.
Speculating on what might happen was useless. Somehow she trust-
ed him, knew he wasn't a psycho, just a sadist. He kissed her.
She was surprised, she didn't think male Tops kissed, and it
dissolved her. His tongue was powerful, insistent, bruising.
Women didn't force their way into your mouth that way, not the
toughest top. It was painful and opening and she didn't know how
she'd last without something in her cunt, something on her clit.
He was reaching for her crotch now and in a panic she pushed his
hand away. Even as she did it she knew she was in for it. He
threw her away from him into the wall, knocking the breath out of
her.
"Get in the dirt!" he said, snarling, "Now." He grabbed
her jacket collar and shoved her roughly to the ground, her ass
facing him and pulled a rough flail with heavy tails off his belt
that she hadn't seen blending into his leathers in the dark bar.
"You're counting to twenty, boy, and I'd better like what I
hear."
The first blow was like fire, even through the denim.
"One!" she cried out, almost pitching forward into the ground.
The second wasn't any softer, "Two!" escaped out of her as she
struggled to stay on her knees. She felt the denim ripping at
the sixth blow and was counting through tears by the thirteenth,
but she didn't stop. The twentieth blow finally came and he
whipped her around so that she was on her knees facing his bulg-
ing crotch, bigger now than before the whipping. "That's more
like it" he said, a trace of tenderness in his voice. He pulled
her against him and holding her fiercely by the hair began to rub
his leather covered bulge in her face.
"Open it," he demanded. She knew he would not like it if
she used her hands so she began inexpertly tugging at the leather
belt with her teeth. After a bit of struggle she got it and
pulling open the buttons of his leather jeans was not difficult.
His cock sprang free, head glistening with pre-come, large and
hard and solid like marble. She couldn't believe she was there,
that she was going to do this but she didn't have time to think-
and her cunt was doing it for her. She went to put her mouth on
it, but he stopped her "No you don't. Put this on."
The condom, of course. She simply hadn't thought about
it. She slid the tube of latex over the gleaming shaft and with
him guiding her head she took it down her throat, trying immedi-
ately to quell her gag reflex. "You'd better open up, boy," he
said menacingly as he began to fuck he mouth and throat. She did
her best to accommodate him, but he was large and it was a strug-
gle. Still she must have been doing something right because he
was swelling in her mouth and fucking her face harder. She heard
his moans from above her as he pressed deeper and harder, using
her brutally. She struggled to keep up with him, to keep her
throat open enough and not to swoon with pain and desire as he
battered the back of her throat. She was seeing stars, her
breathing was shallow when it was not cut off by his pubic hair.
She began to feel as though she were floating in a dream of
incredible dimension, and when she finally felt him come there
was a little regret mixed in with the relief of being able to
breath again. He leaned against the wall, recovering, and told
her to strip off the condom, patting her head as though she was a
rewarded dog. "Not bad, boy," he said as he stood straight after
a few moments, "Now let's see what you've got." Before she could
react he had pulled her to her feet and shove his hand in her
crotch. From the front it felt all right, but he was yanking
open the buttons.
"Please," she whispered, "no," but all he did was tell
her to shut up and continue to open her jeans. There was dead
silence when the dildo popped out, too yellow and hard and not
connected to anything. It took him a moment to react at all, so
far from the realm of possibilities was this development. He
yanked it away from her body, sticking his hand underneath as
though checking for a second, real, penis. His fingers grazed
her clit and she gasped with desire and anticipatory panic. For
a few seconds he just stood there. "Well," he said. "Well.
Shit."
She couldn't say anything. She just stood there waiting
to see what he would do. Suddenly, surprisingly, a broad smile
broke out on his face. He let it flash at he briefly, Then
regained his Top scowl. "Well, come on, boy, I'm not done with
you yet!" He shoved her further down the alley until they came
to a door. He fished a key out of one of his pockets and let
them in. It was a small room and a kitchenette, all bed and re-
frigerator, obviously a crash and fuck pad belonging to the bar.
He pushed her into the room. "Okay, boy," he said, "Now you're
going to get the rest of what you came here for. Go into the
bathroom and turn that thing around. Put it where it will do
some good. And make it FAST."
She knew what he meant. She went into the bathroom,
reversed the dildo and put it inside her cunt, held in place by
the leather of the harness. She risked moving it back and forth
just twice, and could not keep the groan from spilling out of her
lips. She hurried back out to find him sitting on the rooms only
armchair.
"All right, cocksucker, lie flat on your stomach and show
me how you do yourself. Show me how your ass moves."
She flopped quickly down on the bed and poked her ass up
as high as she could and started rubbing herself through her
jeans, pushing her knuckles against the base of the dildo and her
slit, moving her ass in what she hoped was a boyish manner. She
buried her face in the bedclothes as she moved against her hands,
smelling piss, sweat and come on the sheets and it made her even
hotter to think of all the men who had fucked and been fucked on
this bed. She was making low, animal sounds as she pleasured
herself and she glanced back and saw he was rock hard again and
watching her hungrily. "Here I come, boy," he said, moments
later, "Get ready." He dropped from the chair to the bed, kneel-
ing behind her and pulling her to her hands and knees. She heard
the condom package rip open and he covered his cock again. He
hand his hand on her, slapping her ass through the denim, working
up a burn that made her wetter and wetter. Suddenly he dug his
fingers into the worn of her jeans a ripped a panel out exposing
her asshole and enabling him to slap her flesh. He reached under
the bed and fished around for something. He found it. She had
to gasp as the two lubed fingers went into her tight asshole.
"You're probably almost a virgin back here, aren't you, boy? I
told you I like fresh meat." She felt the head of his cock
against her asshole and before she could think about it he was
pressing himself inside her, holding her hips and thrusting into
that tight aperture. Once again she willed herself to open up to
this unfamiliar intrusion. There was pain like fire at first,
but she was so hot she couldn't help but relax and she found
herself moaning against him as he bucked into her. "Play with
yourself," he grunted at her. How she managed to obey him she
didn't know, but she got her fingers on her clit and was pushing
the dildo in and out in time with his thrusting. She could feel
his cock rubbing against the dildo through the thin wall of
flesh. Harder and faster he thrust and she kept pace with him on
her clit and with the dildo. They rose toward orgasm together.
"Don't come until I tell you," he gasped between thrusts, "I want
to hear you with me!" She had to stop touching herself to hold
back, but she didn't have long to wait. "Now, boy, now!" He
grunted, thrusting so hard he collapsed them down onto the bed as
she came, yelling, with him.
The next thing she knew he was fiddling with the buttons
on her jeans, doing them up after he had pulled the dildo out of
her and replaced it in her jeans, down the right pant leg. "Come
on, boy. Time to go," He was grinning at her, "I'm thirsty and
the people who always meet my new boys are waiting to see you."
She smiled her gratitude at him.
"Yes, Sir!" she said as she followed him into the night.
The End (For now?)
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