Carlos, or rather Carla, was on vacation, free to enjoy every second without restrictions. He arrived home with wobbly legs after the second day of adventures, his body exhausted but his mind buzzing with desire. Before lying down, she took out a 7 cm diameter anal plug — a monster that she fit into her ass with effort, moaning loudly as she felt it stretch every inch. She put on straps to hold it in place during the night, determined to wake up even more broken-in. It took her a while to fall asleep, the plug keeping her in a constant state of arousal, her body vibrating with the sensation of being filled.

He woke up at 9am on Monday morning, his ass numb and completely dominated by the plug. He decided not to remove it yet, feeling its weight with every movement as he prepared a simple coffee. He drank the drink slowly, thinking about his next step. She decided to go to the pool and make those long-awaited bikini lines. She took a shower, carefully removed the plug and was impressed: her ass was so loose that she was able to self-fist effortlessly, inserting her entire hand and feeling the emptiness that the last few days had left. She smiled at herself in the mirror, proud of her transformation.

He took one of Joice's micro bikinis, adjusted his micro penis at the bottom and shaped the top to highlight her natural breasts, small but marked by her pale skin. She applied a generous layer of tanning lotion, the sweet smell mixing with the heat of the day, and headed to the pool area. He lay down under the scorching sun of Foz do Iguaçu, letting the rays burn his skin while he thought about life. Married to Joice for more than ten years, she knew that the marriage was a facade. He, with his micro penis that rarely worked, hadn't satisfied her in years. She, a beautiful woman, had stopped looking for him sexually a long time ago.

Carla knew that Joice had her lovers. After hacking her WhatsApp, he discovered conversations with more than 20 men from São Paulo, where she was now. There was even a group of just them, where they planned orgies — some days with everyone at once, others dividing it among themselves. Through the cameras in the house, Carla also saw that Joice was having orgies right there while he was in Rio de Janeiro like Carla, taking advantage of the locals. It was a tacit agreement: she stayed for his money, he for a mask of heterosexuality for society. Joice may have been suspicious of his sexuality, but she never brought it up, just as he never questioned the men who possessed her. But Carla was tired of hiding. She didn't want to come out publicly, but for Joice, yes — Carla existed and demanded freedom.

He stayed in the sun until 2pm, falling asleep for a few minutes in the intense heat. She woke up sweaty, took a quick shower and dove into the pool, remembering the last few days like a crazy dream. When she left, she took off her bikini and looked at herself in the outside mirror. She almost cried with emotion: the G-string marks were there, strong and defined, a perfect contrast on her tanned skin. She took another shower, put on a light dress and ate something light. The doorbell rang — I had almost forgotten about the manicure. He opened the gate, still with the marks showing, and asked for long fiber nails on his hands, sharp and painted bright red, and on his feet, the same vibrant tone. When the manicure was finished, Carla felt more feminine than ever: little marks, red nails, ready to show off.

It was almost 6pm when he decided to get ready for the night. I wanted more exposure, more men, more everything. She chose a low-waisted micro skirt, so short that it left her G-string marks showing, and a tiny top that showed off the bikini lines on her breasts. She donned the long blonde wig, huge hoop earrings, loud bracelets, heavy makeup with dark purple lipstick and neon eye shadow, and high heel boots. She left the house swaying, the hot wind lifting her skirt as she drove to a little bar in the busiest area of ​​Foz, a place known for attracting men of all types.

He arrived at "Bar do Tigre", a rustic spot with outdoor tables and yellowish lights. She got out of the car with the windows open, her boots echoing on the concrete floor, and entered as if she owned the place. She sat at a highly visible table, slowly crossing her legs to show her little marks, her top almost revealing everything. She lit a cigarette, the smoke rising as the eyes turned to her. Men stopped talking, women whispered. Carla loved that — being the center of attention.

It was then that two figures caught his attention. Sitting at a nearby table were two stunning crossdressers: one, wearing a red wig and a tight black dress, named Lívia; the other, with curly brown hair and a leather skirt, called Bianca. They looked at her with knowing smiles, raised their beer glasses in a silent toast, and beckoned her to join. Carla didn't hesitate. She took her glass and walked towards them, her heels announcing each step.

— We love your style, babe — said Lívia, with a deep and seductive voice. — Are you here to show off or to hunt?

—Both, — replied Carla, laughing. — And you?

— We always come here to tease — Bianca replied, running her tongue over her red lips. — But today is special. Want to join us?

No further invitation was needed. The three started talking, laughing loudly and attracting even more looks. They decided to show off together: they got up and paraded around the bar, swaying in sync, Carla's little marks matching Lívia's daring necklines and Bianca's sensual movements. They stopped in the middle of the room, pretending to dance to an imaginary song, their hands roaming each other's bodies while the men whistled.

A group of four guys — muscular, with open shirts and smelling of beer — approached. The leader, a dark-skinned man named Roger, was direct:

— You three are a spectacle. How much for us to take you somewhere?

Carla responded for all of them:

— Nothing, as long as they eat us together, film everything and cum in our mouths. And it has to be here, for everyone to see.

The guys laughed, excited about the proposal. They took the three of them to a corner of the bar, close to the counter, where the tables formed a half-moon. Carla, Lívia and Bianca knelt side by side, their skirts hiked up, their tops thrown on the floor, showing off everything while the men pulled out their dicks. Carla sucked Roger voraciously, Lívia swallowed another while Bianca took turns between two. The crowd in the bar watched, some filming with cell phones, others shouting encouragement.

Roger pulled Carla up, ripped her panties and penetrated her ass with brute force, while she screamed:

— I want two in my ass!

Another guy, a blonde named Vitor, joined, sticking his dick next to Roger's. Carla's ass, already loose from the plug and self-fisting, swallowed them both with ease. Lívia and Bianca followed suit: Lívia with two in her ass and one in her mouth, Bianca being fucked from behind while sucking another. The bar became a chaos of moans, slaps and screams, the three crossdressers being used to the extreme in front of everyone.

Roger announced that he was going to cum and poured it all into Carla's mouth, who swallowed it with a smile. Vitor came next, smearing her face. Lívia and Bianca received their doses, the three looking at each other complicitly, their faces covered in cum, their bodies sweaty and marked. They stood up, half-naked, and strutted back to the table, heels clicking, the bar's eyes fixed on them.

— That was just the beginning — said Lívia, lighting a cigarette.

— There’s more tomorrow — Bianca added, laughing.

Carla, with her lipstick smudged and her heart racing, knew she had found her perfect partners. The night was just beginning.