La Societe Noir

 A while ago I was invited to join a wonderful private society of femme bois and trans sluts for black cock called La Societe Noir. It was a faggot friendly club where sissies who crave black dick can meet black alpha males with a taste for the thrills that only a white boi transformed into a feminine sex slave can provide. The members are amazing - some of the prettiest, daintiest, shyest, most seductive little feminine boi toys, just the type I love to pick up at The Pink Institute to bring home for some mattress adventures with me and my cameras.

It had been too long since I visited the maison d'ville of the Societe. I'd forgotten how amazingly decorated and comfortable a place it is, an elegant Parisian salon in a perverse bordello where dominant black men can put white fag sluts in their proper place. Again and Again.

When I got there this afternoon I prettied myself up in the sissies little powder room, fixed my face, tugged on my miniskirt and gave my big black rubber inflatable butt plug a tight squeeze. Ooof! It's getting crowded in there!

I came downstairs, feeling a little shy because it had been so long since my first a(and last) visit a few months ago. Three other delicious gurls were sitting around the stripper pole in the main salon, admiring a new sissy maid outfit the dancer was wearing, and saying hi and stuff as we all remarked how happy we were to see each other because the place was usually empty whenever any of us visited.

Being clever like that, I suggested we get on La Societe Noir's group chat and tell the membership that a party was starting. So I did,, and almost instantly a tall, ruggedly handsome young man named Mister Truth arrived and I was quick to say "Hi!" and sneak a peak at his muscled shirtless torso and his baggy shorts with the unmistakable outline of a big, black ripe banana.

My group notice worked! I should be in marketing or party promotions! OMG! Another member of the male persuasion arrived and immediately snuggled up with one of the sexy petite sissies, Ariana,  sitting around the stripper pole.  When Ariana hopped onto the gentleman's lap I felt like I should give them some privacy, so I hopped out of the beanbag chair and swayed over towards the fireplace where Mister Truth sat watching the flames. He beckoned me to come closer to him with two curled fingers. I obeyed and stood next to the arm of his chair with my legs slightly spread and my hands behind my head, boobs stuck out for his inspection.

"Sit with me," he said. I sank to the floor and wriggled in between his bare brown legs. "Hi!" was all I could manage to say as I snuggled close and felt the heat of his bare legs close against my skin.

"So fine a MILF bitch, you gots some miles on you baby," I blushed, deeply ashamed of the stretch marks and cellulite, the scars from the last boob job still fresh under my nipples, already living in a state of total embarrassment dressed in a whore's lingerie, a man stuck in a porn star's body.

"Oh I like that," he said when he saw my lower lip tremble. "You have experience."

I nodded numbly, only aware of his hands cupping my GG , 1200 cc tits, his thumbs sliding the wisps of black lace off of my long brown pierced nipples.

"Does the bitch like her nipples pinched?" I nodded with excitement/ afraid to tell him that ever since the transition and the hormones and the surgery, my nipples had been insanely erogenous, capable of making me multiorgasmic if clamped tightly or bitten with sadistic teeth.

to be continued