Story codes: m/ftm, slow, rom, oral
Thanks for the amazing feedback and sorry about the delay. Here's the final part. I hope you enjoy it.
If you're offended by stories involving sexual acts between consenting adults of any gender, don't read the following. Void where prohibited. If we're promoting homosexuality, we might as well buy a few billboards and start recruitin'. Caution, filling is hot.
In Real Life, part 3
I don't dance. I can't sing, play an instrument or keep a set rhythm in any other way. But right now, looking at my dream boy effortlessly leading Decora through a set of complex motions, I thought I could follow his moves if only he'd hold me in his arms. We were in a vaguely gothy club that didn't cater to youngsters hoping to steal a beer or score a quickie in the bathroom; there were a few same-sex couples present and I contemplated asking Dez to teach me to dance. The music was too loud, but I was having fun.
The song finally ended and they started making their way back to our table, Decora in a minimum coverage leather minidress and Dez wearing one of my shirts. I intended to stuff it in a ziploc right after we return home - he smelled so good even in the stuffy, smoky atmosphere of the club. I stood up.
"Well, I need some fresh air. Who's with me?"
Dez let go of Decora's hand and nodded enthusiastically.
"God, yes. It's too hot in here... or is it just you, 'Cora?"
With an outrageous wink he ran a finger down Decora's neck and lightly scratched her collarbone. The girl purred in delight. I could safely say that he was easily the most straight acting guy I've ever met, and the most convincing. Shit, I still didn't know if it was just an act or if he was for real, just messing around with a guy away from his usual haunts, but I had to take the chance. Even if he refused I'd still have lots of prime wanking material from our two little adventures and I'd describe my encounter with him in detail. I started putting together phrases that would let other men sense the allure of his thick lips, imagine the feel of his sparse stubble on their fingertips and picture the way he moved through the crowd as we walked through the exit. My eyes were glued to his butt.
We leaned against the wall in companionable silence, watching the goths milling around the entrance with their smelly clove cigarettes and jangly jewelry. The night was warm and fairly quiet for this city. I felt the familiar pang of despair; I slept alone through countless nights like this, slept lightly or laid in my bed staring at the moon and listening for the distant hoots of police sirens. Fuck the risks, fuck the appearances, he leaves shortly anyway. I took a deep breath and put my arm over Dez's shoulders, lightly stroking his well-defined delt. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smile, a happy grin that lit up his face. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I wanted to get at that lovely vulnerable throat and make him squirm.
We've been standing like this for a while. I nuzzled his long silky hair and was just about to deliver a line like "my bed or yours?", when Dez hissed a quiet "Oh shit". I felt his muscles stiffen; my head shot up. Two cops turned up to ID the clubgoers and one was heading our way.
"Hey, don't panic. Our cops aren't angels, but they're not what you're used to in your country either. You won't get detained and beat up for nothing."
He didn't respond. The cop approached us and, predictably, asked for IDs. He examined mine and extended a hand; Dez silently handed him his passport. The policeman - quite a hottie in his own right, if you happen to be into authoritarians - riffled through the pages, shone a flashlight on a particularly interesting stamp and eyed my companion critically, matching him against his photo. Dez stood motionless, muscles trembling lightly with the effort of remaining still.
"Where are you staying, miss?"
I realized Dez's mouth must be parched as he rasped "With my friend here" in reply.
"When are you due to leave?"
"In three days."
The cop nodded. "All right. Have a good night then miss."
I raised an eyebrow as Dez gripped the little booklet, curling it into a tube.
"'Miss?' Did you take your sister's passport overseas? Funny how you passed for female there, I'd take you in for questioning if I were that guy."
He shook his head. "Shit. No. I meant to tell you." He gulped, swallowing only air. "Really did."
"Tell me what?" I reached to touch his face, but he turned away.
"Let's walk over there. I... don't want to talk about it out here, too many people around and someone might walk out at any time."
I followed him to a bench, hidden in deep shadows. My head was spinning. What did he - or she - want to tell me? Was I hitting on a girl all that time? Why the stubble and the baritone voice? I didn't feel any tits when he - she? - hugged me from behind and at his - her? - bodyweight he'd have to have some if he was female... I wanted - no, needed - an explanation. There was a cold feeling in my guts; it seemed that we were both about to panic and start running around shrieking.
"Okay." Dez was squeezing his temples hard, every vein standing out on his big hands clearly visible even in the dim light. "My passport says female because I'm a transsexual."
"Oh come on. Every transsexual I've met so far was way, WAY more feminine than you... shit, sorry, I didn't mean it like this. You're cute, but it's just you're really butch."
"Then you've only met male-to-female trannies. MTFs. Me, I'm the other way around."
He took a deep breath. "I was born with a female body. I tried, I really tried to be comfortable with being perceived as a woman... shit, I identified as lesbian for a few years, but finally I couldn't take it. I researched it online, went to a doctor specializing in transsexuals and began therapy after a few months.
"I've been taking testosterone for the last two years. I've had chest surgery - not that there was much to remove in the first place. The scars are on my nipples. They're tiny and hard to notice. I work out a lot so I'm in decent shape. But I can't change my name and gender marker yet, I need to go through a real life test. Basically they want to see if I'm coping with looking like a guy and carrying an ID that says I'm a girl. At the end of this year I might be allowed to file for an official change if the doctors agree.
"And, well." His fingers pressed harder into his skull. "I don't have a cock like you'd expect me to."
I sat there slackjawed, staring at a lamppost and trying to process what my dream boy just told me. He was right - I knew a bunch of transsexuals who lived as males and had sex change surgery, but I didn't even think it was possible for women to feel they were men. The proof sat next to me, gripping his - her? Shit. I couldn't think of Dez as female, it just didn't compute even if his story felt wrong - head and biting down hard on his bottom lip.
"Wait. If you're attracted to guys, why didn't you..."
"Stay a woman?", he interjected. "That's the trouble. Firstly, I am not a woman. If you try to perceive me as one, it won't fit. Everyone I've ever met when I tried to be a woman said I make a really poor girl. If I tried to have a relationship with a straight guy who saw me as a chick, it'd fall apart in under a month. Been there, done that. Like I said earlier: I really tried to be female and females have boyfriends.
"Secondly, I... it was hard to admit to myself that I might be at all attracted to guys. I dig chicks, I'm butch by design and then there's the 'if you were born female, why not stay female' thing... if a transman says he's gay, nine people out of ten will hit him with that line. I'm not out back home. I don't even look at gay porn."
Dez looked utterly miserable slumped on the bench. He sighed deeply and I tentatively stroked his hair, trying to make sense of my feelings.
"I'm sorry. When we went out and you hugged me, I planned to take you to this bench and explain everything at my own pace, no pressure, second guesses and certainly no misses. I'm usually better at educating people about my... heh... shortcoming.
"Shit. Can't tell you how sorry I am it turned out like this."
I reached a resolution of my own.
"Stop apologizing. I think you realize I'm shocked and need time to think, but I would've never guessed you weren't born with a dick. Even if I tried I couldn't see a girl in you, in real life or online."
He blinked. Then blinked again. Then turned to me, face slowly losing that rigid expression of despair and melting into a small, shy smile.
"You're not mad I didn't tell you earlier? And that I jerked you off?"
"I'm surprised and unsure, but I'm sure as fuck not mad about those two handjobs. They were perfect. That's why I'm surprised you didn't practice that on your own meat."
He chuckled quietly, eyes locked onto mine with a heartbreaking expression of gratitude. I wondered what exactly did he expect me to do - hit him? start yelling? - that he'd be so pathetically grateful for a simple gesture of acceptance. Jesus, the poor guy must've had some horrible experiences. I took his hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"If you still feel like a cuddle, you know the way to my bedroom. I, uh... can't guarantee I'll be feeling like something more, but you're a great hugger. Loved it when you held me in the bathroom this morning."
Finally that cute smile reappeared and Dez's face brightened again. "I'll be there."
"I'll be looking forward to it. Let's get back to the club before they think we've been kidnapped."
The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful. Dez danced once again, this time with Selva, and I admired his skill. The more I looked at him, the more I felt I could accept him sexually. I pondered the mechanics of sex between a typical gay guy and a female-bodied one; we'd have to discuss it later in bed, arms wrapped around each other. I felt a tiny electric tingle going up and down my back as we drove home, Dez was sitting behind me and catching my eyes in the rear mirror.
He silently padded into my bedroom, hair still damp from his shower. I chucked the book I was reading under the bed and made room for Dez. He was warm, freshly washed and smelled of some exotic fruit a bit. The weight of his head on my shoulder filled me with unrivaled happiness. I had a hard time believing I wouldn't fall in love with him... fuck, I was already smitten, I just couldn't believe I fell for a transsexual man from some distant semi-third world country.
"Dez? Did you have sex with any guys after you started this whole procedure?"
"No. Straight guys stopped hitting on me around the third month of testosterone injections and I was too chickenshit to take a few gays up on their offers. Not that I wasn't tempted after I actually could allow myself to accept it."
"I've never shared my bed with a virgin, y'know."
Dez laughed and poked me in the ribs. I squirmed. "Hey! If you just have to tickle me, at least move lower so I won't have to kick you out!"
And he did. And how. After my cock was at full mast and beginning to drool large drops of precum, Dez dove under the duvet and I felt his hot breath on my glans. A skilled tongue lifted some precum from my piss slit. I shuddered. His strong fingers gently gripped my sac and started massaging my nuts while he slowly picked up the remaining precum with his thick, soft lips. I lifted the duvet, but I could only see the dark, silky curtain of his hair as he went down on me. At last I felt his broad tongue on the underside of my glans, then it swirled around my crown in a tantalizingly unending motion as my slit let out more salty lube. Now he was reaching up to tweak my nipples and rake his sharp fingernails across them in short strokes. I raised my hips, feeding more cock into his slick hot mouth. He couldn't take it all in, but he did his best, licking me in all the right places and expertly jacking what didn't fit in that sweet mouth. He was a very good cocksucker. I couldn't take this level of stimulation for long.
"Watch out", I panted. "I'm gonna cum soon."
I felt him smile around my meat and he gave a few strong sucks. He moved one hand down and started massaging my prostate. My balls drew up tight against my body and he tightened his grip on the base of my cock, making it swell up even more, and I felt a deep vibration going through my body as he purred happily. He swallowed the first spurt of cum, holding my firing rocket tight, and when my jizz erupted for the second time he swirled it around my cockhead. I felt each spurt out of I don't know how many as it boiled up my urethra and splashed in my dream boy's mouth, mixing with his saliva and engulfing my cockhead in a warm sea of delight. Dez massaged the underside of my cockhead with his tongue as I came, still purring and making me shudder as his teeth gently grazed my cock.
I was completely spent. It's been a long time since someone gave me three orgasms in one day and I wanted to roll over, pull the covers over my head and sleep for a week, but I wanted to return the favor.
Okay, so I was curious about the contents of Dez's smart black boxer shorts. But I was also prepared to lick, suck and wank whatever I found within. Anything to make him stay with me a few moments longer. I've known a coupla better cocksuckers, but it was Dez who was here right now, kissing me with lips tasting of my cum and pulling me close, locking me in his muscular arms. I gave myself a few minutes to regain some energy and reached for his crotch. He moved away, suddenly uncomfortable.
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
"I... well... what do you think it looks like? I don't want to freak you out."
"If I'm freaked out, I'll stop. Now lemme at it."
My dream boy gripped the sheets and let me open the fly of his boxers. I saw a mass of curly pubes and reached in, gently stroking my fingertips over the prominent mound. It certainly looked bigger than any woman's I've seen so far. But the real surprise came when I drew a deep breath and parted the cleft of his labia.
A perfect cockhead the size of my fingertip peeked at me from within a fleshy sleeve. I was absolutely awestruck. Sure, there were some suspicious folds below, but the little dicklet looked good enough to eat. I gripped it in two fingers and pulled the foreskin down; Dez gave a small moan, so I started jacking it. His hips jerked up, the look of anxiety was gone from his face, replaced with an expression of rapture. I leaned my head closer; the smell wasn't unpleasant and I breathed it in deeply.
I gave his cockhead a small lick. Another moan of delight. One more, then another, then I took the whole little cock in my mouth and started going down on Dez, making up moves appropriate for his genitals as I went along. He was trying to hold in his moans, biting his lip again; I gripped his pistoning hips and sped up to keep up with his tempo.
Dez didn't squirt spectacular amounts of cum. His hips shot up for the last time and he went very still, back arched and muscles tensed, shuddering for about half a minute. He was silent, mouth in a disbelieving "O" of delight and eyes squeezed closed. Finally he relaxed, splayed out on the mattress in what seemed like very fine afterglow. I held him like he did earlier, bringing him down from the heights of pleasure. After a while he leaned his head into my shoulder and whispered something. I knew what he was saying, but didn't dare replay it in my head; some things are better left to the moment.
We fell asleep together, snuggled in a mad tangle of limbs and covers, not caring what would the others think when they fond us. We deserved whatever time we could make together.
Dedicated to all the transmen I know, gay, straight and bi, who live in fear of being judged on the basis of their genitals. Stay strong and proud.
(C) Desmond Speaks Freely at Last, 2005