Christmas Angel free porn video

“Elfi,” a male voice barked, directly to my left. I winced as the sound exploded against my eardrums, and angry flecks of saliva slapped against my cheek. “Get back to fucking work. Now!”

If that sounded harsh written in English, let me tell you it actually made my skull vibrate in the original German. German is a perfect language for shouting.

The words came from my boss, Klaus Richter, Head of Entertainment at the Christmas market in Berlin, where I worked. My muscles tensed, my hands started to tremble, and I immediately dropped the hat with the cute koala face on it back onto the stall. 

I turned ninety degrees to face, the fat, bearded Prussian leaning down towards my face. I arched my spine backward as his face got even closer to mine. My five-foot-three body felt even smaller than usual next to this flabby, six-foot giant.

“I don't pay you to shop, Elfi. I pay you to work,” he rasped, his spittle again spraying over my face and down my glitter-covered cleavage.

“Sorry, Herr Richter,” I said, meekly, desperately trying to stop myself flinching at his closeness, “but it's meant to be my break.”

“If you want to take a break, take it in the van. Have you ever seen an angel out shopping?” Herr Richter said. He let his words hang triumphantly in the air for a second. “No, you haven't, have you? Nor has anyone else. That's because angels don't fucking shop.”

His comments referred to the fact I was dressed as an angel, a 'Christmas angel,' in fact. It was my job to walk around the vast market with two other girls, holding lanterns and providing eye candy to the onlooking visitors. Apparently, we were a major draw.

I gulped, not knowing how to respond. Of course real angels don't shop... but nor do they tend to work at Berlin Christmas Markets. And even if they did, I'm willing to bet they wouldn't strut about in tight white jackets, unseasonably short, white skirts, push-up bras, and stiletto knee-boots. I'd also be willing to bet that their halo wouldn't be constructed out of wire and tinsel.

My heart thumped in my chest as my mouth opened and closed pathetically.

“Save your excuses,” he snarled. “It's Christmas Eve. We don't have time for breaks anyway. Go find Heidi and Mitzi and start marching.”

“Yes, Herr Richter,” I whispered. I hung my head so that my long, blonde hair shrouded my humiliated, red face. I shuffled past my unmoving boss, out from the protective shelter of the stall and into the snow that drifted down from the black Berlin sky. I wiped the globs of Herr Richter's saliva from my face and chest, and avoided the temptation to look back at the hat. Objectively, it wasn't anything special; in fact, it was rather cheaply made, but it had a koala on it, and that was enough for me. I loved koalas. Or at least, I loved what they represented to me.

My mini-obsession with the animal had started around five years ago and had recently become more intense. When I had fled my parents' house, just after I'd turned sixteen, my grandmother took me in. To cheer me up, she had bought me a soft toy koala. It wasn't much, but it gave me something to cuddle during the long nights of tears that had come from having my life torn apart.

The reason why I had left my parents' home was an open secret in my family. It was because I was trans, and that was something neither my mother nor my father could accept.

Twenty years ago, I was born in Munich and given the male birth-name, Eckhardt. It was a hard-sounding name, and I always hated it. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only thing I hated. I hated my clothes, my short hair, and the fact that people kept calling me a boy. And yes, maybe I was a boy, at least in the outward physical respects, but I knew I was a girl on the inside. My soul had always been female.

When I was a child, my parents had just laughed off my predilection for dressing up in girls' clothes and my assertion that my real name was 'Elfi.' However, as the years passed, they came to realize my belief about who I was wasn't just a phase. In fact, as puberty started, my terror as to what I was becoming developed a new intensity. I was a girl trapped inside a male body, and that body seemed to become more masculine by the day. I became unruly, my grades fell, and I ripped up my male clothes.

My despairing, and increasingly angry, parents sent me to psychiatrist after psychiatrist. They kept getting an answer they didn't want. They kept being told that my 'gender dysphoria' was so intense that the only option was for me to begin treatment to become a girl physically, and the earlier, the better. But that was not acceptable to my parents. They wanted someone who could change who I was mentally, so I would be the boy that they knew I was meant to be.

I begged them to change their mind and to let me start hormones before my bone structure had set, or my face had grown stubble, but they resoundingly refused.

“I might not have a real son,” my dad would rasp, “but I'm not going to pretend like I've got a daughter.”

My mother's anger developed into outright rejection. My father's anger developed into violence. After the second bloody nose in one week, supposedly dolled out to, “man me up,” I knew I had to leave. I fled to the one person I could trust: my maternal grandmother from Augsburg, Grandma Jutta. She was the grandma who always kept a secret box for me: one with dresses and makeup and other girlie stuff. She could see past my male exterior and focus on the girl within. Even when I was little, she'd sneakily call me 'Elfi' when nobody was watching.

Grandma Jutta looked after me, and cared for me, and supported me through my transition. It had caused a family schism, but Grandma was tough, and she fought my corner. Few people were brave enough to argue with the undisputed matriarch of the family.

Despite my mother and father's protests, Grandma did what the doctors recommended. She allowed me to transform into the girl I always knew I was. I took hormones and watched the results slowly unfold. My shoulders ceased to grow broader, and my facial and body hair growth stopped before it ever began. I developed breasts, I developed an ass, and my face shape softened and feminized. I soon became passable. In fact, I'd even allow myself to say I became pretty. Nobody but those who were told would ever suspect my past.

I'd lived with Grandma Jutta for four years.

The first year was tough. I was young, stupid, and prone to tantrums– tantrums that I sometimes directed my grandma. I still feel guilty about them now. In the background, the family was sniping, and I was angry that the hormones were taking their time to work their magic. I looked in the mirror, and I still saw a boy.

The second-year was better as my appearance became undeniably feminine. By the latter half of the year, nobody I met thought I was a boy. I looked like a girl, and I was treated like a girl, even if I was legally still male.

The third-year was horrible again, as I geared up for the awful, humiliating, and costly “Transsexuellengesetz” process that would allow me to change my gender in Germany legally.

Then in the fourth year, after the court had deliberated, I was finally granted my wish and legally became a girl.

For ten months, I was happy, really happy. Then, last Christmas, Grandma Jutta died suddenly, aged seventy-seven.

- - - -

I pushed my way through the market crowds. As I passed the trinket stalls, the bratwurst stands, and the glühwein vendors, the cold winter breeze lapped at the hem of my skirt, and icy flakes of snow stung against my exposed skin. It was fortunate that my cold-tolerance had always been high, otherwise every night since late November would have been torture.

I suspected Heidi and Mitzi would be enjoying a cigarette behind the old Volkswagen van that doubled as our changing room. If koalas were my indulgence, tobacco was theirs. My suspicions proved correct. My two blonde co-angels were exactly where I'd thought they'd be.

“Klaus says we need to get back to work,” I said, my voice still trembling from the encounter.

“We're on our break,” said Heidi nonchalantly, expelling a leisurely plume of smoke from her pink, glossed lips.

“I know,” I said, with a sigh, “but he says we don't have time for breaks tonight.”

Mitzi laughed, taking a drag on her own cigarette. “Klaus can go fuck himself,” she said.

“I kinda want to say that too,” I said, looking at them with pleading eyes, “but it's our last night, and I don't want to piss Klaus off. I need him to put a good word in for me if I'm going to get any more work like this.”

“You go work then,” said Heidi, sneering, “be a good girl for your darling Klaus.” Then she exhaled, deliberately directing her plume of smoke towards my face.

I stifled my reflex to cough.

Neither Heidi nor Mitzi cared about future work. They were college students and came from good families. For them, the angel job was just a bit of extra cash to buy some new jewelry in their favorite boutiques along Kurfürstendamm. For me, it was a necessity.

With the money left over in my grandma's will, I'd secured myself a small flat in Berlin. It wasn't enough to buy a place, but it did help with the rent.

I'd chosen Berlin for two reasons. Firstly, I'd heard rents were cheap, a hang-over from the time when the city was divided and few people, barring broke artists and spies, actually wanted to live there. Secondly, it was meant to be a city of tolerance, far removed from the Bavarian conservatism that I'd been used to.

On both fronts, the popular beliefs had proven correct. Rents were still relatively cheap, and Berlin was, indeed, tolerant. It was safe to be openly gay or lesbian on the streets, and I saw same-sex couples holding hands and kissing multiple times a day. I was, however, still feeling out how accepting Berliners were of people who were trans. Most of my time had been spent in a constant search for work. I'd shifted from one temporary, inconvenient, low-paying job to the next. I'd made a few friends, enjoyed a few sexual encounters, but my search for romance had resulted in soul-destroying failure.

“Please, guys,” I begged, “I don't know how many times I've covered for you over the last month. Do me a favor. Please.”

“You're not our boss. And we've covered for you too,” said Mitzi smugly. 

She was technically telling the truth. However, she avoided the fact that I'd covered for them five or six times each, whereas, between them, they had covered for me precisely once.

“Yeah, run along now, Elfi,” Heidi said. “Be an angel.”

I suppressed my rage, grabbed my lantern, and walked off into the crowd.

- - - -

As I stomped through the crowds of people, I saw a young woman walk with a stroller. She was engrossed in conversation with what looked like her husband. The boy in the chair was probably around two years old. He was holding a brightly colored woolen doll - a decidedly female looking doll. As the family passed me, I smiled and waved at the child. He laughed and flapped his hand back at me excitedly.

He continued waving for so long that I had to swivel my head as the stroller retreated behind me. Then I saw him drop his doll to the snow-covered ground. Almost instantly, his face started to change. Tears began to come. He reached after the toy in futility, but in the busy crowd, it seemed his protests went unseen and unheard.

I rushed towards the fallen toy, grabbed it from the ground, and brushed off the snow. Then I raced after the stroller. Before I could reach it, a big hand firmly grabbed my arm, jolting me to a standstill. My body convulsed in shock, and I almost dropped my lantern and the toy.

“Elfi,” a familiar harsh voice shouted in my ear. It was Herr Richter again, and he sounded madder than ever. “What the fuck are you doing? And why are you on your own? I told you to get Heidi and Mitzi.”

I gulped. I'd been wandering around on my own for the last twenty minutes. Heidi and Mitzi were nowhere to be seen. But what could I do?

“They're finishing their cigarettes,” I murmured. “I'm sure they'll be here in a minute.”

I looked desperately at the rapidly disappearing stroller and the screaming infant who was straining towards me. Herr Richter, slapped the doll from my grasp with his free hand, sending it falling into a pile of slush. Then he grabbed my arm tighter and pulled me towards him. I almost lost my footing as I stumbled across the snow-covered ground.

“Fuck the doll,” he screamed at me. “It's no toy for a boy. And I told you to tell the other girls that there were no breaks tonight.”

“I told them,” I whispered. My eyes flicked from Herr Richter's red face, down to the doll on the floor.

“You're fucking useless,” Herr Richter said. “I bet you didn't even speak to them.”

My throat went dry.

“I promise Herr Richter,” I said, on the edge of audibility. “I… I just don't have the authority that you have.”

Herr Richter leaned down so close I could feel his breath on my face all over again.

“If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it, okay? That's how employment works.”

I yelped as his grip became tighter. How was I meant to respond? My mouth hung open.

“Sorry, Herr Richter... I tried,” I stuttered.

Then I heard another voice I recognized, or at least half-recognized.

“Fräulein, is this man bothering you?” it said.

- - - -

About an hour earlier, I'd walked with Heidi and Mitzi into one of the temporary wooden beer halls that littered the market. This one was part of our regular marching path. The room had two doors, one each end of the building. Our route took us through one door, across in front of the long bar counter, then out the other.

Our arrival prompted whoops of joy from the patrons. Glass clinked, and loud cries of “Prost,” the German equivalent of “Cheers," filled the room. I didn't dare look at anyone directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the stares from the customers, and the broad smiles on Heidi and Mitzi's faces. I tried to emulate them, but my shyness got the better of me. I fixed my eyes straight forward and tried to suppress the rapidly increasing pinkness of my cheeks.

Just as we were about to leave the building, I heard someone shout in my direction in American-accented German.

“Hey, shorty!”

I knew the comment was for me. Heidi and Mitzi were tall, around five-nine or five-ten. I was the short one, even in heels. 

I turned to see who had called out to me, and my eyes met with those of a handsome man. An exceptionally handsome man, in fact. He was tall, rugged-looking, with tan skin and dark brown hair. A long black coat was draped casually over his shoulder. His legs were clad in a pair of dark-blue jeans, and a short-sleeve plaid shirt adorned his upper body.  The shirt wasn't tight, but I could instantly recognize his strong, broad chest and powerful arms. I felt my mouth open involuntarily, as a rush of excitement surged through me.

Then he smiled a wide smile. It was like a wicked beam of mischief. It hit my eyes, pierced through my defenses, and turned my brain into a jumbled mess of desire. My knees went weak, and my cock started to expand - at least as much as it could, I had it securely tucked back between my legs.

I couldn't stop staring back.

Then I walked smack into the door frame of the exit to the beer hall.

I yelped in surprise and pain, fell to the floor, and dropped my lantern, which clattered across the floorboards. The candle inside snuffed out, and a little trail of molten wax dribbled onto the wood. Then the laughter hit me, both from the room and from the other girls. Almost instantly, the red heat of embarrassment rose up my chest, consumed my neck, and blazed out from my face.

In a slight daze, I scrambled on the floor, checking my face for blood and correcting my halo. Then I saw a big male hand being held out for me. Without thinking, I took it, and it drew me upwards. I clumsily stumbled and reached out with my free hand for stability. My hand touched the man's chest. Beneath his shirt, I could feel the muscle. My lips parted, I looked up, and I saw the guy again. He was grinning even wider.

My mouth expelled a dizzy, nervous pant.

“Are you okay?” he asked, in American-accented German.

I nodded, unable to think of the right words to respond with, my mind was too clouded with mortification.

He leaned forward, brushed my hair from my face, and kissed me on the forehead. My knees buckled all over again. The crowd laughed, but I managed to stay standing.

“Do you need your lantern relighting?” he asked in German.

I nodded. “Ja, bitte,” I said meekly in German, before switching to English. “Yes, please.”

He retrieved the silver-colored contraption from the floor, pulled a lighter from his pocket, lifted the little lid on top of the lantern, and re-lit the candle.

“There you go,” he said, also switching to English.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I released his hand, then bolted out of the beer hall. A chorus of cheers erupted behind me.

- - - -

“Fräulein, is this man bothering you?”

Yes, his accent was distinctly American. And no native German uses the term 'fräulein' to refer to a young, unmarried woman anymore, at least not in Berlin.

The expression on Herr Richter's face changed, but he didn't let go of my arm.

“He's my boss,” I whispered, letting context say the rest.

The American placed his hand on Herr Richter's chest.

“I don't think that's how you're meant to touch your employees,” the American said.

“This is none of your business,” Herr Richter growled back. “Get out before I get security to kick you out.”

“Let her go before I knock you out,” the American replied.

“The guards are going to fucking pummel you,” Herr Richter sneered.

“You wanna bet how much I could pummel you in the time it takes them to get here?” he responded.

The two men's eyes locked. I tensed, inhaled, and held my breath as they squared off against each other.

Then Herr Richter released my arm.

“Now piss off and let your angel do her job,” the American said.

Herr Richter snorted and marched off.

I looked up at the American. He was breathing heavily through his nose.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I reached down with a trembling hand and grasped his palm. “Thank you, very, very much.”

I looked into his eyes; they were magnetic and powerful. My toes curled in my boots.

Then I released his hand and turned away. I knew there was no way he'd want me if he knew what kind of girl I was.

- - - -

Although it was me who walked away from him, and although I was sure that nothing would ever happen between us, I couldn't help but look out for the American for the rest of my shift. The image of him smiling at me was indelibly inked into my mind. Even once Heidi and Mitzi had rejoined me, I couldn't stop myself from carefully scanning every stall.

But no matter how far we marched, he wasn't anywhere to be seen. With every step I took, my heart sank a little deeper. The American had saved me, then I'd stupidly just run away. He had probably already left, and I'd blown my chance to talk to him. Why did I have to be such a fucking idiot?

But then again, what else could I have done? Even if he was attracted to me, he didn't know I was trans. Revealing myself could be dangerous, and he was a lot bigger than me. What if he got mad and accused me of tricking him? And even if he didn't get mad, he'd probably reject me. And even if he didn't reject me, he'd only want to fuck me.

My past year had been littered with rejection and heartbreak. Sure, I'd had a few nights of passion. Every so often, I'd use a specialized dating app to find a hot guy who'd let me greedily suck on his cock, or fuck me until I spurted all over the sheets. Once a guy had even given me a delicious spanking. Unfortunately, I just couldn't find someone to date me.

At best, I was a dirty little secret. Some guys might want me as fuck-toy, but they would die in a ditch before they let their family or friends learn about me. They might fantasize about going to bed with a girl with a dick, but they wouldn't take one home to mama and papa. The pinnacle of my romantic achievement was to be a guy's fuck buddy for a month or so. That lasted until I hinted that I wanted something more serious. The look of horror on his face when I said it would be nice to meet his friends still sometimes makes me cry. 

Then there were the guys who wanted me for one night and one night only. It was helpful, at least, when they were upfront about what they wanted. At least then, I had my expectations. I could just enjoy the sex, and leave before I got any stupid ideas that they might want me as a girlfriend. Sadly, some guys didn't even give me that basic courtesy. They just feigned romantic interest to get sex. Their deception was not only unnecessary but also left my heart in tatters. 

My last experience, where I woke up in a guy's bed after a night of fucking, only to be asked, “why are you still here?” left me on the verge of a complete breakdown. The worst thing was, he had seemed so lovely and charming the night before. I actually thought I'd finally met someone who was boyfriend material - but I was wrong. The experience had scarred me and left me numb to the prospect that anyone would ever actually love me.

That's why I'd invented my two rules: rules to keep me safe, physically, and emotionally.

Rule one, I'd only reveal myself when I was sure it was safe to do so. 

Rule two, If I did have sex, I'd be the first to leave. I'd make a point of it. I'd go before anyone had the chance to kick me out. At least that way, I got to make the decision and could spare myself the emotional battering of yet another rejection. 

Besides, if I could lower my expectations about romance, at least I'd be able to live out some of my dirty, submissive sexual fantasies. That was better than nothing. At least I'd only be lonely, not lonely and sex-starved.

- - - -

It was 9 pm, the end of my shift. I dumped my halo and lantern in the van and grabbed my handbag. I made a quick trip to the bathroom to adjust my panties as they had been rubbing a little as I walked. I always wore a particular brand, made especially for transgirls. They were slightly stiffer and had more spandex in them than regular panties. They hugged my body tightly and allowed me to keep my penis and testicles tucked back securely between my legs. They hid my bulge very well, which was incredibly important when wearing a skirt as short as the one that went with my angel costume.

After doing a bit of fiddling, and retucking myself, I'd reassured myself that everything was in place comfortably. I marched back out into the market with my handbag slung over my shoulder. I would usually head straight to the nearby S-Bahn station to go back to my apartment, but on this occasion, I couldn't help but make a final loop of the stalls. Maybe, just maybe, the American was still here.

I walked quickly, twisting my head from side to side. Even if nothing was going to happen, I wanted to thank him properly. I must have seemed so rude by just walking away after he'd scared off Klaus. Hopefully, he'd smile at me. Perhaps he'd even hug me so I could feel his body again. That might give me a pleasant memory to jerk myself off to when I was back in my apartment.

I'd almost given up, but then I saw him. He was standing, sipping a steaming mug of glühwein, on a wooden terrace adjoining a drinks stall. The terrace was covered in an awning, giving partial protection from the elements, but the sides were still open. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Two attractive women were fawning over him—women who, no doubt, had sweet, wet pussies for him to fuck. An indignant hiss of air left my nose, sending two little plumes of vapor shooting out into the cold Berlin sky.

I slowed my pace, hoping that he'd notice me as I walked past the open bar-area, but he didn't. He was still listening to the women next to him. So I swung around the stall and made another pass. Feeling stupid and self-conscious, I forced myself to walk seductively and sexily. I unzipped my jacket, pulled my vest top slightly lower, and stuck my chest out in front of me. I walked by the bar area again, but he still didn't notice me. I sighed again and rested against one of the thick, vertical, wooden beams that supported the awning. 'Please notice me,' I mentally begged into the nothingness.

My back was to him, but I could still see him in the reflection of the jewelry stand opposite. One of the girls was touching his arm. They were both giggling when he spoke. They definitely wanted him to fuck them. I bet he wanted to fuck them too. 

Then his eyes flicked up for a second, and he looked at the jewelry stand. He briefly scanned the stall and then saw me staring in the reflection. Instantly, I looked away, my cheeks becoming red all over again. I cursed myself, yet again, for being a socially awkward idiot.

Then I heard footsteps clunk over the wooden boards behind me. I inhaled and held my breath. I didn't dare look, but I knew it was the guy. My skin tingled. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my muscles tensed.

“Hey, Angel,” the guy's deep voice called out in English.

I felt a hand on the small of my back, and a delicious, light, masculine scent snake up my nostrils. I gulped.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

Using all my strength, I forced my muscles to shift round to face him.

“Jack,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Elfi,” I murmured, taking his hand.

I gulped, then breathed quickly.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted. “I'm sorry for running away from you earlier. I had work to do… I couldn't be distracted… I'm sorry.”

Jack laughed. 

“It's okay, Elfi,” he said with an amused voice. “I just thought you were shy.”

“And thank you for helping me up in the beer hall, and scaring off my boss,” I said, as I drew up next to him, still holding his hand. “He can be really mean.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling his broad smile. “Care to join me for some glühwein?”

I tensed again. Yes, of course I wanted to join him, but I couldn't.

“I can't,” I said meekly. “I've got…” 

My words cut out as I found myself unable to generate a lie. I paused as my mouth flapped.

“You've got family to get to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I looked into his eyes.

“No,” I said.

“You've got a party to go to?” he suggested.

I shook my head.

“You've got to pickle some sauerkraut to go with your Christmas pork knuckle.”

A little burst of laughter escaped my lips.

“No,” I said.

“Well, come and join me,” he said. “I haven't any sauerkraut to pickle either.”

“Won't your lady-friends mind?” I said, glancing over at the two women who were now watching us with annoyed looks on their faces.

“I told them you were a friend I'd been waiting for,” he replied.

“So, I'm your friend, am I?” I said.

“You can be if you want,” he said.

I smiled again.

“I don't want to get in the way if you want to seduce them,” I said, unconvincingly.

Jack laughed at me, then leaned down towards my ear. “Elfi, my angel,” he said, “the only person I want to seduce is you.”

I gulped, and my cheeks went pink. His boldness excited me and made me nervous.

“Maybe you wouldn't want to seduce me if you got to know me,” I said, then instantly hated myself. I was being stupid and awkward again. Anyway, why was I even here? Things weren't going to happen, even if I wanted them to.

“Maybe... maybe not,” he said. “But you're cute. I'll take the risk.” 

Before I could protest, Jack gave a little tug on my hand and led me over to one of the sofa seats at the back of the bar area. I tottered behind him in my boots, unable to prevent myself from looking over at the women he'd been talking to seconds before. They were now staring at me with hatred in their eyes.

I sat on the sofa. Jack let go of my hand and walked over to the two women. He whispered something in their ears. They looked at him in disappointment, then looked at me in anger. They both kissed him on the cheek, then marched quickly out of the bar. I noted that he did not kiss them back.

Jack walked back over to me.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told them that you and I had a lot to catch up on,” he said.

“Did they believe it?” I replied.

“Not sure,” he said with a laugh. “Don't care.”

The nonchalance with which he said it instantly played with my anxieties. Those women were hot, they were fawning over him, and he dismissed them like it was nothing. Other guys would have been desperate to fuck them, but I guessed female attention was such a constant feature of his life, that it meant little too him. My eyes scanned over his face and body. He was very hot. Too hot for his own good, most likely. 

“Are you some kind of player?” I said, then winced. Why couldn't I just keep my analysis to myself? And did it even matter if slept with lots of girls? It wasn't like I was going to get anything more than an ego boost and some fantasy material tonight.

Jack laughed. 

“Why do you say that?” he asked in amusement.

“Well, the girls...” I started, then stopped.

“The girls who were chatting with me... and I bailed on... just so I could talk with you...” he said. “I'd call that being selective, not being a player.”

My face started to heat up. What the hell was I saying?

“Yeah... but look at you... I bet you sleep with so many girls,” I said. Then I winced again. Why did my mouth keep saying these things?

“I've slept with a few people. As I'm sure you have too,” he said. “You're a pretty girl. I bet people hit on you all the time.”

“Yeah, people hit on me,” I said, “but I don't sleep with them all.”

“I don't sleep with everyone who hits on me either,” he replied.

I squirmed slightly in my seat and reached up to massage the back of my neck. My face was now burning red. I didn't have any logical way of expressing what I was trying to say, and I was just going to make a fool of myself if I continued. Nevertheless, he definitely was some kind of player. He was just too hot and too confident not to be. But he was very handsome, and he was funny, and he smelled good. He wouldn't be boyfriend material, but perhaps I could just let him fuck me, if that's what he wanted to do.

I gulped as I let my mind wander for a second. Him fucking me... now that was an electrifying thought, I crossed my legs tightly and ran my fingers through my hair. But then I shut it down. I couldn't think like that. He didn't know I was trans.

“So, what brought you to Berlin?” I asked, changing the subject and trying to force the heat in my cheeks to subside.

“I needed a change,” he said, seemingly happy that I was moving on from making assumptions about his promiscuity. “And I love Berlin. I love the atmosphere. I love the history. I love the freedom.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “That's one of the things that drew me here too. Where are you from in the US?”

“Rio Ranco, New Mexico,” he said.

“It sounds hot,” I replied.

“It is. Hot, dry, friendly, but sometimes a little insular,” Jack said.

“So you wanted somewhere, more… metropolitan?” I asked.

Jack nodded. 

“Not to disparage Rio Ranco,” he said, “I had some great times there. I just wanted somewhere a little more... shall we say... open-minded.”

I swallowed. “Oh, cool,” I said. “Open-minded is good, open-minded is really good.”

I forced myself to stop blabbering, but his words had affected me. Open-minded, open-minded, open-minded... what if he actually was okay with me being trans? The thought sent a ripple through the pent up reservoir of my emotions. A little wave of possibility lapped over my mental barriers, like a small amount of water sloshing over a dam. The overspill leaked through my body and sent a tingle through my skin.

If he was attracted to me, and okay with being trans, then maybe I'd get to feel his muscles. Maybe he'd kiss me. Maybe he'd pin me down. Maybe he'd put his stiff cock in my mouth, or, oh God… in my ass? I shifted in my seat. My mouth opened, then closed again. No, I couldn't tell him.

“So, are you here to stay?” I asked.

“Yep, I'm here to stay,” he said, “at least for the time being. I work remotely, so really I can work anywhere... I chose Berlin.”

“Are you enjoying it?” I asked.

“Yeah, it's nice. The food is good. The drinks are good. The company is...” He trailed off a looked at me. “... kind of 'meh'”

His eyes twinkled.

“Oi!” I said, “I thought you liked me.”

I slapped him on the arm. 

“I do like you, Elfi,” he said with a grin.

I shuffled closer.

- - - -

The conversation had flowed easily. We'd been talking for over an hour. We'd laughed, we'd flirted, and Jack kept looking at me like he wanted to devour me. Beneath his confident gaze, I was starting to feel all wriggly and horny. Every time he looked at me with his devilish smile and sparkling blue eyes, I felt my cock begin to engorge and push against the fabric that kept it neatly tucked between my legs.

He even made a joking comment about spanking me when I made a cheeky remark. That made me go very, very red. Desire was rising inside me. The reservoir of excitement behind my mental dam was filling at a rapid rate, and I kept having to remind myself that I couldn't let it out.

As the pressure rose, I kept leaning forward, smoothing my skirt, tossing my hair, and tightly crossing and uncrossing my legs. But I had to keep my mental barriers up. I still hadn't mentioned anything about being trans. How could I know that his attitude wouldn't change the second I told him? How could I be sure he wouldn't get angry with me, or worse? How could I be sure he wouldn't accuse me of tricking him or making him feel like he was gay?

But... he was so disarming, and he really seemed to be into me, and I was getting tipsy. Every so often, I'd found myself forgetting that I wasn't going to allow myself to take this further. For a second or two, I'd lose my focus, and I'd accidentally release a little sluice gate in the dam that I'd been forcing shut. Thrilling little currents of water escaped past my barriers, and goosebumps rose on my skin. I kept finding myself looking at his lips. Then touching his arm. Then touching his leg... I could tell he liked that. But I was getting carried away. No, this couldn't happen...

“You look cold,” said Jack, as my hand retreated sheepishly from his thigh.

“I am cold,” I replied, and I was. My cold tolerance was high, but now I'd stopped walking around, I was getting chilly.

“Why don't you come and sit on my lap?” Jack said with a grin. I can put my coat around both of us like a blanket.

I took a deep breath. That sounded good, but it was a step too far. I was being silly, and it was time for me to leave.

“Sorry, Jack,” I said, “It's been really, really lovely talking to you, but I need to get home now.”

Disappointment flashed across his face, but he hid it quickly. 

“Ah, that's a shame,” he said, “I was really enjoying talking to you. You don't have to sit on my lap if you don't want to.”

“I do want to,” I said, “but it's getting late. And I've only just met you. Maybe I could give you my number?”

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he said.

I got to my feet. Maybe I could message him to say I was trans, and then I wouldn't need to be next to him as he rejected me. Or maybe I would never message him, that way I'd never have to face the rejection at all, I could just enjoy the fantasy of what might have been. God, I'd enjoy that fantasy... feeling his big hands all over me. I would probably masturbate myself into a coma over that one.

As Jack took out his phone to take my number, I saw a family walk by. It was the family from before: the young woman with the stroller, her husband, and the small boy. The boy was holding a wet-looking doll. The doll he had lost earlier.

“Hey, Gunter!” Jack called out.

The boy looked over and started waving at Jack. Then the parents started waving. I looked at Jack, who was smiling. I looked at the family, who were smiling too. I looked at the doll.

“Do you know them?” I asked.

“I ran into them earlier,” he said, “remember, the kid had dropped his doll. I saw you were about to give it back to him, but your boss got in the way.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I said. “So you gave the boy his doll back?”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a nod. “I saw the family come back around just after you left.”

“And you didn't think it was wrong for a boy to play with a toy like that?” I said.

“If he's happy with it, why should I care?” replied Jack, with a laugh. “It's not the 1950s anymore.”

Okay, that had sounded promising. That had sounded really promising. I took a deep breath. I half-smiled and sat back down next to Jack.

“I thought you said you needed to go?” he said.

I gulped and remained static. Jack continued waving at the little kid until the family had gone.

“There's something I want to tell you,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” Jack replied.

“Just promise me that you won't get mad,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, looking puzzled. “I promise not to get mad.”

“And I've wanted to tell you for when we first started talking, but I didn't know how you'd react,” I said.

“Okay …” Jack said again.

“Well,” I took a deep breath. “I'm trans... if you know what that means.”

He paused for a second and scanned my impression. He was probably trying to see whether I was joking or not.

“Really?” he said. He looked me up and down, but his expression was of surprise, not anger.

“Yes, really,” I said, meekly. Then I steeled myself. “So, do you have a problem with that?”

Jack paused in silence for a few seconds. “That is kind of a surprise,” he said. “But no, I don't have a problem with it.”

“I just needed to be sure... since we were flirting so much,” I said, my voice quietening to a whisper.

“It's okay, Elfi,” he said. “It's all fine with me.”

Relief surged through me, and a smile spread across my face. 

“Is there anything else I should know about you?” he asked.

I tensed again. I guess just saying I was trans didn't fully explain my situation. But fuck it. I'd gone this far.

“Well... I've still got a cock,” I blurted. “And, I really like koalas.”

Jack cracked up in laughter. My face morphed into an inferno of redness.

“Wow,” he said. “Koalas, huh?”

“I'm telling you this because I think I can trust you,” I said, then took a deep breath. “And I like you. And I think you're really hot. But it's important that you know who I am.”

“It's okay, Elfi,” he said, then laughed. “Well... that is a surprise... but... I guess it makes you even more intriguing than I thought.”

“So,” I said with a gulp, “do you still want me to sit on your lap now that you know? It's okay if you say 'no,' I'm happy just to chat.”

He smiled a very genuine looking smile.

“Elfi, I'd still like you to sit on my lap,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I replied nervously. “I don't want to pressure you.” 

“It would be the best Christmas present I could hope for,” he said.

I laughed and smiled.

He took off his coat and fanned it out like a blanket. Then he draped it across himself and lifted one side to allow me access. I ran my hand through my hair and sat down on his lap. He then wrapped the coat around both of us. I whimpered slightly as I felt his body. His chest felt strong and firm on my back. The sensation sent tingles of excitement through me.

“You're shaking,” he said.

“I'm cold,” I replied. I wasn't prepared to admit that it was nerves, even though it was probably painfully obvious to him.

“Well, I'm happy to help out,” he said. Under the blanket, his big hands gripped me gently around my waist, and he pulled me closer. “After all, what could be better than wrapping my arms around such as sweet, beautiful, sexy girl on Christmas Eve?”

I swallowed. The word 'sexy' echoed through my brain. After my revelation about being trans, he might just have let me sit on his lap out of politeness... but there was no requirement for him to call me sexy. None at all. You don't call someone sexy unless you want to have sex with them... certainly not in this context.

As his breath tickled the hairs on the back of my neck, I felt the heavy concrete wall of my mental dam begin to crack. The pent up reservoir of arousal that had built up during all our flirting suddenly started to push through the gaps, and wash into my bloodstream. I gulped, as a feeling of giddy excitement began to course through my body. He was handsome, he was sweet... and he didn't have a problem with me being trans.

Every nerve ending in my body began to sing with desire. The possibility of sex was suddenly very present, very real, and very exciting. I took a deep breath and wriggled on the spot.

“So, you think I'm sexy?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. I could feel his head nodding.

“Just a sexy as before...” I said, “before I told you...”

“Yes, Elfi,” he said, and ran his hands gently up and down my sides. “Just as sexy.”

More cracks appeared in my mental dam. A fresh surge of arousal flooded through me. My cock began to engorge and throb in its tucked-up little stranglehold. I didn't know what to say next, so I decided to do something that didn't need words. It was something very bold, at least by my standards.

“Can I shift position?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. 

I shifted my body and shuffled around until we were face to face, with me straddling him. 

“Well, hello there, Elfi,” he said, with a wicked grin on his face.

“Hey,” I whispered.

I swallowed, bit my lip, and looked into his eyes. As he stared back, his hands ran up my waist and held me.

“Mmm,” he said and smiled. “So sexy.” 

His eyes twinkled.

It was the only cue I needed. I parted my mouth slightly and leaned forward. He leaned forward too, and our lips gently touched. It was a soft, sweet, and delicious caress. My breath fluttered, and goosebumps rose on my skin as the sensation tingled through me.

“Oh, that felt good,” Jack whispered. His lips tickled against mine as he spoke.

“If you want me, kiss me properly,” I whispered back.

One of Jack's hands slid up my back and through my hair. His hand gently cupped the back of my head, and he drew me in closer. Our lips pressed tenderly together, and his tongue slipped into his mouth. The cracks in my mental dam turned into deep fissures, then the whole edifice crumbled. Arousal flooded through me like a tsunami. I pressed myself against him, kissing him deeper and deeper. He moved his hand on my waist down to my thigh, and he grasped my flesh. I pressed my tits against his chest and whimpered in delight.

I as we kissed, I felt him bunch his fist into my hair and pull it sharply down and backward. I gasped as my head tilted back. Then I felt his breath on my throat.

“So... fucking... sexy,” he rasped.

Then he kissed my neck. I wailed, twisted, and wriggled. My head rolled around in pleasure. I thrust my crotch towards his body, wishing I could press my cock up against him, but it was still stuck back between my legs, all swollen and struggling. I could feel him though: his erection pressed against me, hot and angry.

While my body still squirmed, he pulled back and looked at me.

“I don't want to be lonely this Christmas,” he said. “Would you like to come back to my apartment and keep me company?”

Gulped and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Jack smiled. “Wonderful. A beautiful Christmas Angel for Christmas Eve.”

“A naughty Christmas Angel for Christmas Eve,” I giggled.

“I'll try and keep you in line,” he said and gave me a quick smack on my ass. I almost came there and then.

- - - -

Hi all - that's it for now. What did you think?

Part 2 is coming very soon!