The Karate Kit

I can't remember what his name really was, so I'll call him Pete. I met him on an internet dating site, and he quickly became very possessive, in that creepy way that happens sometimes, where a guy who won't even send you a face shot gets to start acting like you're married!

Weird or what?

He had a thing for gurls in karate suits (a very specific obsession, based around an actress in an old series of TV commercials) and like a fool, I agreed to go and buy one. Then I got my friend to take a few photos, which I sent off to him.

The ways he asked me to pose all sounded a bit boring, so I got my friend to take what we thought would be some raunchier snaps, in high heels and wearing suspender stockings and so on, but he hated those shots; the only ones he liked were the ones where I was posing in the full-length white trouser suit and making fake karate moves, just like he'd asked me to do.

And he was VERY pleased with them!

Truly, he couldn't thank me enough, and started sharing his fantasies about what he wanted to do with me in ever increasing detail...

The trouble was, none of his fantasies turned me on! To the contrary, it seemed to me the more he expressed his desires, the more of a jerk he was making himself out to be.

He told me he was a retired marine, now employed on top secret assignments for the government, of which he couldn't say much, in case he then had to kill me!

And for someone claiming such an exclusive military background, he sure had a lot of sissy instincts! I mean, he seemed awfully keen on having me beat him up quite a bit!

Being totally passive by nature, this side of our conversations was getting too spooky for me, so when he suddenly changed his location to Australia, I made my excuses, as they say.

But he's still on the website, if any Antipodean gurls are interested, though I must warn he's added eight years to his age and keeps insisting Bondi Beach is close to Perth!

Still, I shouldn't make too much fun of Pete; if I do, he may get orders to come and kill me!

And if he does, it's unlikely I'll be wearing my karate kit when I'm shot! Cos right now, it's somewhere near the bottom of the lower drawer of that chest where I dump all the togs I'm never likely to ever wear again; the stuff that, when I finally get round to it, will be left outside the nearest charity shop.

Still, surprisingly, I managed to get some value out of that outfit! Believe it or not, I wore it for quite an interesting encounter...

Not long after Pete removed me from his eChristmas Card list, I was chatting online with quite a hunky guy who was into stuff like blind dates and dogging, and he suggested we meet up in a back alley close to where I lived.

The rendezvous point was behind a supermarket, in a real rough area where you don't want to wander if you've no good reason. And it was well past midnight when we agreed to meet!

At the time, I had an apartment above a shop facing the supermarket, so I could get there in two minutes; also, I could hear if any cars were coming or going.

Just like I'd promised Jim, as I'm going to call him, I changed into a frilly black bra and matching panties, before putting on some seamed hold-up stockings.

I had a new pair of rather exquisite white, strappy stiletto sandals which I was dying to wear and, after much hesitation, I finally matched them with the jacket from the karate outfit.

On its own, it worked superbly as a mini-dress, and with my new blond hair extensions matching a touch of gold eye shadow, I felt absolutely divine as I tottered out of my pad towards what I was sure would prove a fun and exciting encounter with a well-hung hunk!

But there was one factor which I'd never bargained for; the karate kit glowed in the dark!

Walking around the worst part of town at night, I was like a phosphorous flare, glowing for all the world to see, like I wanted to get mugged or robbed or worse.

I can promise you, I was sure glad that back alley was barely a stone's throw away from my place...

When I arrived there, I found Jim already waiting. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, "You are brighter than Blackpool illuminations!"

We didn't speak much after that...

Taking me out of the scope of any passing headlights behind some large supermarket bins, Jim guided me down onto my knees and took his firm, fat meat-rod out of his jeans, pulling my head firmly back to where he wanted it, his grip on my expensive artificial hair so overpowering, it told me for certain who was going to be the boss during our encounter!

And like the cock-loving slut I am, I eagerly slurped his bulging cherry, swallowing hard on his salty pre-cum until he abruptly withdrew, whilst harder than a ramrod, before guiding me onto my feet and bending me over the open front section of a bin, which was filled with cardboard sorted for recycling (to my intense relief, as I swear he'd have pushed me face first into rotting waste or whatever, such was his lust for carnal conquest of my quivering butt!).

Suddenly, I felt my legs flailing wildly as Jim, having pulled my panties out of the way, entered me with his seven inches of solid bone. And boy, was he solid! Here was a real man asserting himself as all real men should, by pumping his seed deep and hard into the furthest recesses of an inferior, yet eager and willing sissy!

Yes, I felt every drop of his warm, creamy cum filling my void as a deep, hot flush overwhelmed me and I prayed in gratitude that, while maybe a dreadful mistake in the womb meant I was not born a woman, at least these encounters with real hunks of men such as Jim give me some kind of Pyrrhic compensation!

As he finally exploded inside me, I swear he pulled so hard on my hair a clump could have come out in his hands! But the servicing he'd given me had been so sublime, I probably wouldn't have complained, even though that hairdo had cost a small fortune!

Of course, once Jim had emptied his load inside me, I was only too glad to get back on my knees and clean him up; but that was when something stupid happened! My glow-in-the-dark karate top caught the glare from the headlights of a passing police car, and the officers came over to investigate.

There was only one way out of the alley, meaning we couldn't dodge the cops, but at least we had plenty of time to make ourselves look decent. Still, when they walked up to us, it must have been more than obvious what we'd been doing!

We were both warned against what they called 'lewd encounters' and told how terribly dangerous the area was. And I noticed Jim was sweating a lot, so maybe he had a wife and kids back home, and was scared of attracting some seriously bad publicity?

Whatever the truth, the cops let us off with only a verbal caution, but afterwards Jim couldn't wait to part company, which I felt was a shame, cos I'd have loved to arrange another encounter of the same kind.

To this day, I'm sad that never happened, but hey! At least I got real good value out of Pete's fantasy outfit!