Donna – A Free Shemale Porn Story
Sunday, April 8th, 2007She was beautiful and she was my next door neighbor. Her name is Donna, and
she came over to welcome me to the building. We had a cup of coffee and some
cake she brought over, but she had to run. Going to her dance class she said.
I had taken some dance, so I asked about it. Apparently it was right across
the street, and many people from the building went, but she wasn’t sure that I
would like it, but, if I wanted I could tag along. There was a smile in her
eyes that wouldn’t let go. I put on my sweats and followed her.
It was three floors up. I was the only man in the place, and I could tell that
this wasn’t a soft workout for chubbies. Every woman there had a body that was
toned like a 64 Rolls. They wore their leotards with the grace of professional
dancers, flowing through the room. Many wore a wide sash of embroidered fabric
around their hips. They smiled at me. I was glad I wore my grey sweats.. they
were loose where it counted. I smiled back.
Donna introduced me as a visitor. The class started, and I knew what the
problem was.. It was a Belly dance class. I’m all man, and I’m no quitter, so
I got in and did the work. Shimmys, pelvic thrusts, everything. I was pretty
good. The instructor said they’d never had a guy come here twice, but maybe I
could be the first. The gleam in her eye was more challenge than I’d seen from
many a tough guy. I gave her my winning smile, and asked when the next class
was. The way the women looked at me as they left, I knew I’d found a winner.
It was about the fourth week. They had a present for me. I opened the paper
and found a black and aqua lycra leotard, footless tights, a jogbra, dancebelt,
wig, and a length of material for a sash. I had to think fast. This was a
test, and if I wanted to keep the respect of these dames I couldn’t fail. I
went behind the curtain, and emerged, fully dressed. I had done the right
thing. I went through the class looking at myself in the mirror. The leotard
was very high cut and the aqua hourglass pattern on the front gave the illusion
of a female figure. The sash filled out my hips.
I was good that night.. better than ever before. My appearance has helped me
lose myself to the dance. I got compliments.. and a few more phone numbers.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Donna talking to the instructor. She walked
me home.
Donna explained that I had a decision to make. I was being offered admission
to the Slata.. the sisterhood. The first man ever. Most of the women in the
class were members.. it was a society that helped others learn the tricks of
Belly Dancing. Problem was, there were rules. I would have to follow the
dress code at classes. Have to learn the rules. Have to make a costume. Have to
perform in public. And have to go through the initiation.
The Sisterhood taught total release of self during dance. You followed the
rules, you lost the hung up you, found your freedom. She came closer to me,
her face begging for my acceptance. That night I was in. In more ways than
one.
The dress code was clear. No hair on your body. Any where. The hot wax smelled
of honey. A few shots of Jack Daniels, and the sting of my pubic hair being
yanked out was just a deadened hum. Proper makeup. Base, contour, rouge,
shadow, liner. My wig was full and frizzy cascading onto my shoulders. Show
your breasts proudly. Well they were just foam latex over silicone, but they
were mine.
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