Laundromat Love free porn video

The following story is basically true. As always seems to be the case, "real life" stories are never quite as tidy and cohesive as fictional ones, so I have exercised a certain amount of creative license here and modified some of the details to make the story more interesting, and to give it more of a proper, coherent plot. First, a little about me. I'm a transgendered girl in her early thirties, living in a small northern university town. I am fully "out of the closet" as a transgendered person. However, I have my own unique means of gender expression, which forms the crux of this, and many other adventures I've had, many of which I intend to write about in the future. Let me explain: I've been cross-dressing most of my life, and I came out as transgendered about 11 years ago. With the help of a close female friend, I decided at the time to see if I would really be happier as a female, and so I embarked on my own "real-life test", living and working fully as a woman for over a year. I liquidated most of my savings to buy a complete wardrobe, discarded almost all of my male clothing, and found a job working at a funky, vintage clothing store in an artsy section of town. It was an exciting and enjoyable year and I had many cool adventures, but in the end the results were "inconclusive", as they say. So, again with the help of my female friend, I decided that, instead of living as a woman, I wanted to begin living as exactly what I was (and am), a feminine guy. I have done so ever since, and over the years I have developed my own unique style, and this is most often how I present myself today. I typically wear casual, feminine/androgynous clothes, makeup, and quite a bit of silver jewelry. I love earrings; my ears are pierced twice each, and I have a wonderful and extensive collection of danglies, hoops of every size, post-and-back style earrings, and so on. I also have a large collection of silver bangles, over thirty, which I always wear, and never remove, except to clean them occasionally. Each bangle is unique, and each one has a story. I also wear other bracelets on my other wrist (the bangles are always on my left), as well as lots of interesting rings, toe rings and ankle bracelets in summer, and often necklaces. I'd say over 90% of my jewelry is silver, much of it hand-made and unique. My hair is dark brunette, curly, and comes down to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I got it straightened once (a big mistake!) and when straight it was long enough to reach almost to my waist. Oh, and I have really long nails. There's a bit of a story behind how that came to be (a rather exciting and erotic story, too, so I may write about it next!), which I won't go into now, but I will say that my nails are well over an inch past my fingertips, and have been that length for over three years now. I always keep them immaculately manicured and I almost always wear polish on them (and on my toes in summer). I wouldn't say I'm exactly the sort of person to crave the limelight, but I have to admit that I do like the attention my nails draw from time to time! Day to day, I usually do not wear dresses, preferring instead casual clothes like tight jeans, shorts, and now and then, a skirt. My tops are all fairly feminine, but usually casual: girls t-shirts and tank tops, ethnic embroidered tops, peasant blouses and the like. I do tend to wear high heels quite often, but for everyday wear I often prefer the tall, chunkier heels that are popular these days. I also don't usually wear a bra. I'm lucky enough to be very slim and fine-featured, and for the most part I've had quite an easy time of it, being a feminine guy. To be honest, I suppose that's largely because most casual observers would, on seeing me for the first time, simply pick up on the obvious feminine cues in my appearance, and merely assume that I am an unusually flat-chested girl. I also credit the quite tolerant, liberal nature of our little university town for my easy acceptance as well. That's not to say that I don't ever dress fully as a girl. I do, quite often. I have a collection of beautiful dresses, skirts and tops, strappy little high heels and some really fine lingerie. I adore ethnic style clothes, and have quite a lot of clothing from India, Bali, South America, etc. as well as a couple of very dramatic Spanish- style dresses and skirts, as well as the more usual European and North American styles. But more often than not, I save getting glammed-up fully "en femme" for special occasions: going to parties, dancing, or clubbing, and of course, for going out on dates. The following story is about a chance meeting?in a location not generally known as a great place for meeting people ? that resulted in a short, but beautiful affair with a really great person. Laundromat Love I live in a fantastic apartment, a huge two-bedroom place on the top floor of a century-old stone building near the downtown. At one point, it used to be a factory of some sort, and it has thick stone walls and enormous windows, big enough to stand up in. I love the light, and I keep lots of plants and flowers in the windows all year round. My bedroom is huge, almost as big as my entire previous apartment, and I took advantage of the space and buy a king-size bed, which I love. The rent is cheap, despite it size and great location. Most of the other tenants in the building are university students, and often the building seems rather like one big commune. We often leave our doors open, and hang out regularly in each other's kitchens, drinking coffee and chatting; and without exception everyone there has been very accepting of me. It is, however, a fairly large building, with labyrinthine hallways and several separate entrances, so it is possible to encounter someone who has lived in the same building as you for a long time, whom you've literally never seen before. One thing my otherwise great apartment doesn't have is a laundry room. So, I tend to let my laundry accumulate, and once a week or so I bundle it all up and head for the local Laundromat. On the day this story starts, I headed out with an unusually large load, since I'd been to a few parties the previous week and had an unusually large load of "dainties" and summer dresses to be washed. It was a hot July day, and I was dressed for the weather in short cutoff jeans, a dusky blue scoop-necked baby tee that left my belly button exposed, and light flat-heeled sandals. I was wearing light eye-makeup and blush, some clear lip-gloss, and my usual silver jewelry: my armload of bangles, large hoop earrings, a few rings, toe-rings, and an Indian ankle bracelet. I'd just recently got a pretty French design applied to my nails, so I was just wearing clear nail polish to show it off, and a deep pink polish on my toes. The Laundromat was nearly empty when I arrived. I suppose most people had better things to do on a beautiful July day than laundry! I did notice a rather good-looking young guy, probably a university student, just starting on his own load of laundry. I watched him surreptitiously while I sorted my clothes. With his thick collar-length dark hair parted in the middle, and a wispy goatee, he looked from some angles rather like Johnny Depp in the film Don Juan de Marcos. He was wearing hiking shorts, hiking boots and a Sierra Designs t-shirt. Once I'd commandeered several washing machines and fed the requisite coins and detergent into them, I sat down outside to wait. He came out some time later and made for the chair next to me. "Are you reading this?" he asked, gesturing at a magazine on the chair beside me. "No, not at all," I replied, smiling, "Go for it!" He smiled and sat down, leafing through its pages. I was just wondering how to strike up a conversation with him when I noticed that my machines had stopped, and it was time to throw my stuff into the driers. Back inside, I busied myself with my mounds of clothes, and when I looked through the windows, he was gone. But, he was back in about five minutes, clutching a bag of some sort of health-food snack and a soft drink, putting his own laundry into the driers. When he caught me looking at him, he smiled, and I felt myself blush. I got a can of iced tea from the vending machine and once again sat outside in the shade. He came out a few minutes later and sat down next to me. I was just about to utter something inane just to get a conversation started, when he turned to me and said suddenly, "Don't you just hate laundry?" "Worst chore of the week!" I agreed in a rush, grateful to be speaking at last. "I tend to let my laundry pile up way too much," he went on, "I wait until I have practically nothing to wear, and then I gotta spend the entire morning here. What a pain in the you-know-what!" "Oh, that's exactly what I do!" I replied, "Lug huge loads over here. I can go through about twenty bucks in quarters in no time! Hey," I continued, "We have something in common!" Oops. I thought, that's a bit forward. Maybe too forward. Sheesh, Chris! "Yeah, us and half the rest of the people in this town," he replied, chuckling. We chatted casually for a few more minutes. I found out that he was at the university, studying to be a vet. "I'm studying large animals at the moment, cows, horses, that sort of thing, but what I really want to do eventually is open a small animal practice. You know, pets. I just can't see spending the rest of my life sticking my arm up cows' asses." I giggled. He held out his snack bag to me, and as I took some, he said, "Can I ask you something?" "Sure." "How on earth do you manage with nails that long?" "Oh, I'm used to them," I said, splaying my fingers to display them, "I've had them for a few years now and I really like them. They did take some getting used to though!" "I'll bet," he said with feeling, "Do you have to be really careful with them? Are there any things that are still difficult for you to do?" "Well, yes," I said, "I am pretty careful, not to break them, and I'm pretty fanatical about keeping them looking nice, so they take a lot of maintenance. I always wear gloves to do the dishes, for example. And yeah, there are still things I do that are kind of tricky. Doing up small buckles, for one thing," I continued, raising one foot to show the buckles on my sandals, "Picking up coins if I drop them... putting in earrings can be a pain, doing up small buttons... and if I'm not careful, putting on eye makeup can be downright hazardous to my health!" He laughed, then asked "Do you have anyone to help you with things like that?" Interesting question, I thought. Is he trying to find out if I'm single? My heartbeat increased slightly. "Nope," I said, "It's me or nobody." "You ought to have a roommate to help you out with that stuff!" he declared, grinning. "I manage," I responded. There was a long pause. "Can I ask you something else?" he said with some hesitation. "Of course." "You're... I hope I'm not being too personal... but, er, you're a guy, right?" My heard jumped a bit. Moment of truth, I thought. "Yup," I said, smoothing down the front of my T-shirt to emphasize my complete lack of breasts. "I figured so... But wow!" he responded after a moment, "You're definitely one of the most... most unique guys I've ever met!" "Thanks, I think!" I replied, smiling. "No, no!" he protested, "I think you look great! I really like your style; it suits you. You're really quite... well, pretty. Hope you don't mind me saying that. I really like it when I meet people who have the courage to be themselves... and you do for sure!" "Well then, thanks definitely!" I said, feeling myself blush slightly. He asked me more about my style, whether I experienced any trouble around town by looking so feminine. I told him that I had had almost no problems at all, and that my friends, neighbors and most acquaintances were all very accepting and supportive. "That's so cool," he said. Looking through the window, I could see that my driers had stopped spinning. We headed back inside together. By now, there were more people doing laundry, and space was at a premium. I bundled my clothes into a basket and began folding them on one of the free tables. After a few moments, he joined me. "Mind if I use some of your table space?" he asked, "It's pretty hard to come by right now." "Sure!" I replied, sliding some of my clothes aside to make room. We smiled awkwardly at each other and continued folding. "So, you live by yourself?" he asked. "Totally," I said. "So all these clothes are yours?" "Yeeessss..." I said. "Even those?" he said, pointing to a pile of neatly folded bras and panties. "Even those," I said, and felt myself blushing again. He looked at the pile again and nodded firmly. "Cool." I blushed even deeper. "I really wish my apartment building had a laundry room," he continued, changing the subject, "It's such a great place apart from that." "So you don't live on campus," I said. "Nope. I'm a little old for dorm life," He explained, "I took a few years off and traveled around, you know, seeing the world. No, I live in that big stone building at the end of River Street." I gasped. "You're kidding! So do I!" "Really!" he responded, wide-eyed, "Which apartment?" "Top floor, facing River," I said. "Wow!" he exclaimed, "That looks like a beautiful space! The one with those huge windows and that cool little balcony at the side! What a great place. So you're the one with all those plants in the windows." "Yeah, that's me." He looked at me appraisingly, "You know, I was sure I'd seen you around before. Trouble is, that building is so big and has all those different entrances. My place is on the Norfolk side, so I usually use that entrance. I guess that's why we've never actually met." "I suppose. It's a pretty friendly building. Over on my side, we usually leave our doors open if we're home, and people just drop in to visit whenever they want." "Mine too," he said. We grinned at each other. We folded silently for a few moments, then I asked him, "So, how are you getting your stuff home again?" "Dunno. Probably taxi." "I could drive you, "I said, and my heart pounded a little. "Could you? That would be excellent!" My heart pounded harder. Wow, I thought, could he be... interested in me? God, that's a lot to hope for. Isn't it? We finished folding, and carried our bags and baskets out to my car. During the short drive back to the apartment, we chatted amiably about trivial things, the weather, the summer, the upcoming events in town. I pulled up to his entrance to the building, and as he unloaded his laundry I thought frantically, I can't just let this end here! "So," I said in what I hoped sounded like casual tones, "If you're not doing anything, wanna drop by my place for a cold beer or something when you're done?" My heart pounded as I waited for his reply. "Sure," he said, nonchalantly, "Sounds like a plan." When he was ready to head upstairs, he touched my arm casually and said, "See you in a few minutes." I felt myself quiver excitedly at his touch. Our first physical contact! I drove round to my parking space and lugged my laundry up the stairs to my bedroom, leaving the front door slightly ajar. As I put my clothes away I tried not to think about his visit, trying desperately not to build up any expectations. He seemed friendly enough, but casual, so I suspected that he probably he just wanted to chat some more over a cold drink, and that's it... He was as good as his word. As I was just putting the last of my lingerie away, I heard footsteps in the hall, followed by a knock. "Come in!" I called. As I walked back into the kitchen, there he was, looking around. "Cool place!" he said. "Thanks!" I went to the fridge, took out a beer, cracked it open and handed it to him, then took one for myself. "Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I just realized, I don't even know your name!" "You're right! I responded, "It's Chris." "Mine's Jason. Pleased to meet you, Chris!" We shook hands shyly. We drank from our bottles for a few moments. Then, screwing up my courage again, I boldly held out my hand and said, "Come on! I'll give you the ten cent tour." After only the briefest hesitation, he took my hand and let me lead him into the living room. "Wow!" he exclaimed, "This is a great space!" He took in the big windows, laden with plants and flowers, my couch and huge matching armchairs, my stereo, my Balinese tapestries, and a few framed paintings of my own. "You painted these?" he exclaimed, examining the signatures. I nodded. "Amazing," he said, gazing at them, "You're quite talented." "Thanks!" "Great CD collection, too!" he said, scanning the spine labels. "You really have a wide range of musical tastes!" I led him down the hall to survey my tiny bathroom, with its micro-tub, shower stall, sink and toilet, crammed into a space much too small for it. "Cozy," he remarked, sardonically. The next stop was my studio, where I do graphic design on a trio of powerful computers, two PC's and a Mac. I showed him a few samples of my work while he made admiring noises, then demonstrated my old mechanical drafting table, where I still do the occasional manual paste-up job. The last stop on the tour was my bedroom. He dropped my hand and surveyed my walk-in closet, with its racks of dresses and skirts on one side, casual clothes on the other, and my rows of shoes, sandals and boots, most with heels of varying heights. He stepped in and fingered one of my formal dresses, hanging by itself at the back of the closet. It was my slinkiest, sexiest, most elegant dress, fresh from the dry- cleaners, a floor-length black velvet gown with silver embroidery at the hem. Form fitting, it had a molded, low- cut bodice, thin spaghetti straps and slits in each side all the way up to mid-thigh. I loved to wear it; it always made me feel sexy and feminine, and I often wore my black garter belt and sheer black lace-trimmed stockings with it, because I knew that as I moved or sat, tantalizing glimpses of lace would peek through the slits. It made me feel wickedly seductive. "That's a beautiful gown," he commented. "It's one of my faves," I replied. "I can see why!" Next he examined my earring collection. I kept most of my hoops and danglies arrayed in a pleasing pattern on a square of lace tablecloth I had pinned to the wall. He fingered a few, commenting, "I love hand-made silver," then moved to my chest of drawers, with its three jewelry boxes on top. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at one box. "Go ahead," I responded. He opened one, which happened to contain most of my costume jewelry that I seldom wear: ropes of pearls, some large Indian brass bangles and earrings, some colorful plastic bead necklaces, earrings and bracelets. Next I opened the largest box, which contained most of my silver jewelry: bracelets, rings, toe-rings, ankle bracelets, necklaces, pins, and any earrings that don't hang on the lace cloth. Finally I showed him the contents of the smallest jewelry box, my exquisite Austrian rhinestone jewelry, delicate necklace, matching earrings and bracelet. "Wow," he observed, "That's some awesome jewelry." "I like to wear it with that black dress you liked," I replied, blushing again. As he continued to examine the various figurines and knick- knacks that were arranged around the jewelry boxes, I quickly whipped open one of the drawers, revealing an array of my sexier bras, panties, camisoles and teddies. I winked at him and closed it again. He grinned shyly, but said nothing. Finally, he looked over my dresser, which at the moment was messier than I would have liked. The lace doily on top was littered with brushes, hair combs, bottles of nail polish and other items of makeup. He rolled a tube of lipstick under his finger and asked, "Do you wear lipstick very often?" "Definitely!" I said, and before I had a chance to chicken out I continued, "Wanna see?" "Okay!" he said, grinning lopsidedly. Bending forward slightly to use the dresser mirror, I applied the lipstick to my lips. It happened to be a subdued but wonderfully rich burgundy shade that flattered my skin tone. As I finished, my heart jumped suddenly in my chest as I realized that I had a daring plan, and was about to carry it out. All or nothing, I thought nervously. Boldly, I moved in front of him and put my hands his hips, smiling coquettishly. "So," I said slyly, "What do you think? Does it make my lips look 'Oh so kissable?'" He looked a little startled, but after the briefest hesitation he put his hands on my waist and said, "It sure does!" Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. It was only a brief kiss, but it was warm and sweet. Electric shocks coursed through my body, and as we parted again, he gave me a smile that made my head swim even more than the kiss had done. I felt breathless, as if I'd just run up the stairs, and couldn't think of a thing to say. "Hey," he said, breaking contact, "This is sort of a lot to ask, but since we seem to be getting on so well..." he grinned again. "Go ahead," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "Could I see what you look like in that black number? Would you mind?" Again my heart skipped a beat. "No, not at all," I said, trying to sound casual, "I'd be happy to." I removed a bra from my drawer, slipped off my shorts and top, and slipped on the bra. For a few moments, I was wearing nothing but panties and the bra, and although when I glanced at him he was discreetly surveying my collection of Native prints on the wall next to my bed, I was sure I felt his eyes on me, checking me out. I went to the closet, slipped on the dress and had Jason zip it up for me. I adjusted it in front of the mirror, making sure the thin straps of the dress concealed my bra straps, then I spun for him. "How do I look?" He gazed at me with open admiration. "My God," he said, "You look awesome!" I smiled at him, my heart going a mile a minute. I sat on the bed, and Jason sat down beside me. "Of course," I continued in a rush, "If I was going to wear this dress for real, I'd be wearing a strapless bra, and I'd be wearing completely different shoes, and different jewelry, and oh, I'd do my hair differently, and my makeup would be..." "Shhhhh," he soothed, putting a finger to my lips, "You look wonderful!" Overwhelmed, I put my arms around him and held on tight; he did the same to me, quite willingly it seemed. We sat on the bed together, him in his shorts, t-shirt and boots, me barefoot, in my slinky floor length gown. We sipped our beer quietly. "You know," he said, "You really are a pretty amazing person. I can honestly say I've never met anyone like you before. I hope we have the chance to get to know one another a little better." "I hope so too," I said, with feeling. We sat, sipping in silence for a few moments, then, "Hey," he said suddenly, "Would you like to go for a walk? It's such an amazing day. We could talk some more and take in the great weather." "Okay!" I said. I slipped out of my gown and hung it up again. Once again I was conscious of wearing nothing but bra and panties in front of Jason. I had the impulse to simply walk over to him and gently cup his crotch in my hand, to see if I was exciting him, but of course I didn't dare. Instead, I put my shorts and sandals back on and slipped into an off-white spaghetti-strap tank top that left my belly and bra straps exposed, that being the style at the time. After a quick makeup repair and a frantic search for a pair of sunglasses, we were on our way. The day was spectacular, hot and bright. We headed down to the park that ran alongside the river, and joined the many other couples, families, and groups of kids enjoying the glorious sunshine. To my surprise and delight, Jason seemed totally at ease, and completely comfortable with me. He took my hand as we walked slowly together down the sidewalk beside the water, and I thought that we probably looked for all the world like just another guy and his girlfriend, out for a stroll in the sun. I grinned secretly to myself, wondering what the passersby would think if they knew the truth. We talked about a lot of things, learning more about each another. I asked him about veterinary college, his classes, his home. I found out he was originally from the west coast, and hoped to return some day. We talked about my graphic arts work, the challenges of having your own business, and the challenges of being transgendered in today's world. "You know," I said, "If you're up at the U, you've probably even seen some of my work." I went on to explain that I'd done the artwork for a couple of college campaigns, and after I'd described a few of my designs he said excitedly, "Yeah, I remember those! I thought they were great!" We walked across the grass, and lay down for a time, side by side, in the shade of a huge oak tree. Then Jason propped himself on an elbow and turned to me. "I'm having fun," he said, and gently brushed a strand of hair off my face, "How about you?" "I'm having a really great time too, Jason," I said, gazing up at him, "I don't want it to end." He thought for a moment. "Well then, how about a bite to eat?" he offered. "Now that," I said with feeling, "Is a great idea!" We headed back to the apartment, and while Jason went back to his place to change out of his jeans and t-shirt, I busied myself trying to choose an outfit for the evening. Now, you don't seem too eager! I cautioned myself, I don't think he's the kind of guy that will appreciate if you dress like a slut... On the other hand, you don't want to seem too conservative! Feminine, and pretty, but not overdone! Oh hell, what am I going to wear??? I settled on a calf-length, summery cotton print skirt, so light it was almost see-through, and a thin white cotton peasant blouse. The outline of my bra was just barely visible through it, which I thought was acceptable. I traded my sandals for some strappy white shoes with a fairly high heel, and swapped my big silver hoops for some long Balinese silver dangly earrings. I checked myself in the mirror and thought, perfect! Pretty and feminine, but subtle; sexy, but not in-your-face sexy. When we met again outside his apartment, he looking handsome in chinos and a light blue summer shirt. He looked me up and down and whistled. "Wow!" he breathed, "Gorgeous again!" We wound up at a favorite restaurant of mine, a South American place that serves up fiery food, fiery Spanish music, and superb margaritas. We had several of the latter. Hours later, we wandered home feeling more than a little tipsy, leaning on each other and giggling hysterically. At the entrance to my side of the apartment, I took his hands in mine and said, "I hope you want to come up for a while." "God, I do have a really early lab tomorrow..." His brow knitted as he thought, "But, screw it! I'd love to come up." Up in my place, I poured us each a glass of wine, though we hardly needed any, while he made himself comfortable in the living room. When I joined him, I was a little dismayed to see that he was sitting in one of my armchairs; I'd been hoping we could sit together on the couch, and maybe I could figure out some excuse to snuggle up to him. But, as I made for the other chair Jason patted his lap and said, "Sit here?" Gratefully, I slid into his lap sideways, my legs draped over the arm of the chair, and relaxed against him. His arm slipped around me and I felt telltale stirrings in my chest... and between my legs... "You know," he mused, "I'm finding it really difficult to think of you as anything other than a woman. You're just so pretty and feminine. It's a bit confusing!" "Does it bother you?" I asked. "Noooo..." he replied slowly, "It's just a new experience, you know? But I'm getting used to it!" We sipped our wine and I snuggled further against him. Our eyes met, and I tried beaming my thoughts at him, come on, kiss me! He held my gaze for a few moments, then looked away shyly. Come on! I beamed, you can do it! Finally, when our eyes met again, I leaned my head toward him, parted my lips and closed my eyes. A moment later, I felt his lips on mine. They were soft and warm, dry rather than moist. We kissed, parted, then kissed again. This time I opened my mouth, inviting in his tongue. I felt it enter my mouth, seeking my own. Our tongues entwined in our mouths, and our breathing grew heavier. His free hand began slowly stroking first my calves, then my knees, then my thighs beneath my skirt. Incredible sensations rocketed through my body. My palms and face tingled. I felt blood rush to my groin. I moaned and nuzzled his throat. We kissed again. Underneath my thighs I could feel his hardness beginning to grow. I began to unbutton his shirt, and caressed his chest. I teased his nipples with the tips of my nails, and he moaned in response, eyes closed. I began kissing his chest, licking and nibbling his nipples, while he pulled up my blouse. I raised my arms and he pulled it up over my head and off. His hands stroked my torso, cupping the cups of my bra, then stealing beneath them to tickle my own nipples. Sliding forward on his thighs, I reached down and unbuckled his belt, then undid the button and fly of his pants. I knew I was being daring, but I'd ceased to care. But, he raised his bum off the chair for a moment to facilitate the process, and I pulled them down. Then, boldly, I grasped his hardness with my hand, and began stroking it through his underwear, all the while continuing to kiss his chest, tonguing his nipples. As I slid my hand inside his underwear and at last felt his naked member against my palm, he let out a groan, his head tossed back. It felt wonderful; warm, so hard, yet so soft. I stretched up toward his face and kissed him hungrily. Our tongues met again, desperately seeking each other. The rhythm of my hand increased. Then I slid off the chair and onto my knees in between his legs. I tugged at his underwear and obediently he lifted himself so I could slide them off and away. Reaching up, I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he shook it aside as well. He kicked his shoes off. He was naked; his gorgeous erect cock standing proudly between his thighs. A thin bar of light from the street fell across his lap, framing it. I was still in my bra, skirt and panties, and my skirt now displayed a most unladylike bulge, as I leaned toward him again. I kissed the tip of his steely shaft and felt its answering jump, then wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base. With the other, I began gently tickling his balls with the tips of my nails. He looked down at me, eyes half closed, and said, "My God you look so sexy... I love seeing your nails on my cock..." "Oh honey, I'm glad!" I breathed, "I love to use my nails to give pleasure!" "It's working!" he gasped with an explosive chuckle. I began swirling my tongue around the tip, teasing. I felt it twitch in response. Then, I licked all down the sensitive underside from tip to base, and he moaned again. I kissed and sucked his balls, while my left hand continued to stroke him. I licked my way up to the tip and took it in my mouth, letting my tongue swirl over it. Then, I suddenly plunged forward, taking it all in my mouth, my lips brushing against his pubic bush. I began pumping him with my lips and tongue, my hand following suit, while he gasped and arched his back. With my other hand I reached up and once again began teasing his nipples with the tips of my nails. My nails are well over an inch long, and they give my fingers extra reach; I discovered that I was able to stimulate both nipples at once if I spread my hand wide; touching one nipple with the nail of my thumb, the other with the nail of my middle finger. He groaned again, his languorous gaze never leaving my nails as they caressed his chest. I continued to pump him with my mouth; with each stroke his shaft grew harder and more responsive to my touch. Pre-cum began oozing forth, and I lapped it up. His fingers were entwined in my hair, stroking it and cupping my head as it moved rhythmically. I pumped harder, varying my stroke. I began alternating between pumping only the tip, and plunging down the entire length of his cock. I didn't want him to come too soon! Presently, I felt his body stiffen, and I began pumping his entire shaft vigorously with my lips, tongue and hand. I heard him moan, "Oh God, I'm coming... I'm coming! I'm coming!!!!" I realized that he was trying to warn me, in case I didn't want him to come in my mouth. I mumbled an encouraging, "Mh-hmh!" and tugged at his cock with my hand, never altering my stroke. I felt him thrust his hips forward, then the first spurt of his juice splashed against the back of my throat. He cried out loud as surge after surge jetted out of him, filling me. I swallowed several times. His hips spasmed, his cock jumped in my mouth, and he threw his head back and moaned loudly with each thrust. Finally, as he quieted, I stopped and simply held him motionless in my mouth for a few moments. Then I slowly began to lick him clean, from tip to base, sucking the drops of come from his tip as they continued to ooze slowly. Then, still holding his shaft in my hand, I crawled back up onto the chair and snuggled beside him. He slipped his arm around me, his head still lolling back, eyes closed. "God," he breathed. "Did you like that, honey?" I asked. "'Like' doesn't begin to describe it," he whispered, "That was unbelievable!" We sat together in silence for a while. "Christine?" he asked, using my full feminine name for the first time. "Mmm?" "I... I'm... I don't know if... I mean, I want to reciprocate..." "Don't worry sweetheart," I said softly, "There's no need. This was for you. I think I understand how you feel right now. I understand if you're not ready. This is all new to you. Please don't worry. I'm just fine... really fine, in fact!" and I gave his cock a little squeeze. His arms tightened around me. We sat together, drowsing, in silence for a while. Then Jason spoke. "Hon, I'm so sorry, but I really gotta go. My lab starts at eight tomorrow and I've already stayed up way too late and drank way too much..." "Don't worry about that, either," I replied, "Go! Get some sleep! I will too." "I should be back by noon at the latest. I promise I'll call the minute I get back!" We embraced and kissed at the door, then I watched as he made his way unsteadily down the hall and out of sight. The next morning I awoke and showered, ate a light breakfast and did my yoga as usual. Then I busied myself tidying up and vacuuming, trying not to think about Jason and whether he would call or not. Thoughts of the previous night's passions already had me so excited I could barely concentrate. The morning dragged by agonizingly slowly. But Jason was as good as his word. At about five past noon, the phone rang. It was him. "Hey!" he began as soon as I picked up, "What are you doing? Wanna get together? I'm dying to see you!" "Ohhhh," I teased, "I suppose so..." "Be right there!" And he hung up. Moments later I heard his footsteps hurrying toward my door. He burst in. "Hey!" he cried on seeing me. We embraced and kissed. "Wow you look great!" he exclaimed when we stepped apart. I blushed. Still in my chore clothes, barefoot in jeans, t- shirt, no makeup, my hair wrapped in a scarf, I hardly felt glamorous. "So, whadya wanna do today?" he asked. "Anything, as long as it's with you!" I responded, grinning. "How about a hike?" he said. "A hike?" "Sure! I know a great place we could go. It's beautiful. You'd love it!" "Okay! I'm game!" I said brightly, "Just give me a few minutes to get ready." I dashed into the bedroom, and Jason followed. I stripped down to panties, put on a bra and donned my shortest cutoffs and a cute halter-top. I put on some light makeup and medium silver hoops, then scrounged around in my closet until I located my hiking boots. As I laced them up, Jason reminded me, "Better find some good sunscreen! I don't want anything to happen to that beautiful skin of yours!" I tracked down my daypack and slipped in some bottled water, sunscreen, and some snacks from the fridge. "Ready!" I said, planting myself in front of him. "Great!" he said, embracing me, "And afterwards we can go for a hike!" I laughed. "You are a randy little thing aren't you?" I cupped his crotch in my hand and gave him a playful squeeze. He blushed. We drove about ten miles outside of town and parked. The trail Jason had picked out wove through a beautiful mixed forest; the scent of pine was in the air, birds fluttered by just over our heads. We walked single file, for the path was rather narrow, and presently we began to climb higher through groves of beech trees and tiny meadows full of wildflowers. Occasional hikers passed us going the opposite direction; we smiled and said hello. The path began to rise more steeply and we burst suddenly into full, baking sunlight on a huge rocky outcropping that overlooked a spectacular view. Below us, a carpet of trees fell sharply away toward farm fields that stretched away into the distance. Beyond, the spires of the town rose, cloaked in bluish haze. We sat quietly for a while, taking in the view, our arms around each other's waists. "So," I said, breaking the silence, "How are you feeling about all this? I mean, us." He thought for a moment. "Well," he began, "I have to say that the last day or so has been quite the whirlwind. I can honestly say I've never met anyone like you before. And I really never even thought about being with someone like you before. I mean, I'm pretty comfortable with my sexuality, and I don't have any problems with finding out new things like this. But really, up to yesterday I never even suspected that I could have these feelings in me. Not that it isn't great!" he added, "And for the time being, I'm just content to go with the flow, but I'll bet if I let myself, I could be pretty confused right now!" "And like you said, you've never, you know... been with a guy before?" "Never," he asserted, "Oh I've wondered about it. Like I said, I'm pretty comfortable with who I am, and if I ever did experience any feelings like that, I don't think it would bother me. But I just don't find men attractive. "That's what's so different about you!" he went on, "You're so feminine, and so much a woman. It's hard to think of you as anything other than a girl. When we made love last night, it almost seemed irrelevant. I loved kissing you and holding you, and I loved what you did to me! My God! But then, when I thought about... you know, pleasuring you back, it just suddenly seemed like too much all at once. I'm really sorry! But I tell ya!" he concluded, leaning over and giving me a quick kiss, "It's not going to happen again!" "Honey," I said, kissing him back, "The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable with me. I would never want you to do anything you're not ready for, for my sake. I love just being with you, and I loved pleasuring you last night. I think we should both do what you just said, and 'go with the flow'!" He said nothing in response, but gave me a grateful smile and kissed me again, with passion. We climbed back down the path and drove toward town as the sun was setting. He headed back to his apartment to change; I returned to mine, stripped, took a quick shower and slipped into a light summer dress and heels. I freshened my makeup, traded my hoops for a pair of silver dangly earrings and slipped a large silver cuff bracelet onto my right wrist. Then, after a little rummaging through the fridge, I came up with some left-over poached salmon, some potato salad, a few greens, and a bottle of white wine, and put together a light summer dinner. Jason showed up a few minutes later, wearing a light cotton shirt and jeans. He looked good enough to eat, and I promised myself I would before the evening was over! We ate on my tiny balcony, sitting in the still, close darkness as candles burned around us. We talked more about our lives; I told him about my experiment, living and working as a woman for a year, and my indecisiveness afterwards as to whether I ought to pursue gender reassignment. "So you just didn't feel strongly enough to make the commitment," he commented, "I can understand that. It's a huge step!" "I have a special bank account set up for just that purpose, if and when I ever do make the decision. But for the time being, I'm pretty happy the way I am. I think maybe this is how I'm supposed to be." I paused, "But you know, I have wondered about breast implants. I have enough money saved up so that I could get them if I wanted. The idea is pretty tempting!" "Wow!" he responded, "You would look absolutely breathtaking with real breasts!" I smiled. "I keep going back and forth on it. I have a female friend who had it done with no problems, and hers look gorgeous. But I've heard of other people that have had all kinds of complications. You know, some people lose sensitivity in their nipples, sometimes permanently. I would hate that! I love the sensation of having my nipples stimulated; I don't think I could bear to lose it!" We finished our dinner and followed it with a few fresh strawberries, then after refilling our wine glasses, I took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. As we kissed and caressed, we slowly stripped each other's clothes off, he to nakedness, me to bra, panties and heels. Then we fell onto the bed as one, and began. We teased, stroked, kissed. Then, as on the previous evening, I took him into my mouth. He lay on his back, moaning and squirming as I crouched over him, caressing his beautiful hard shaft with my lips and tongue. Finally, his passion spent, we lay blissfully together in each other's arms, soaked in sweat. After a time, he reached down and, pushing my panties aside, grasped my still-hard member in his hand. "Are you sure?" I asked, "You don't have to if you're not ready." "I'm sure," he whispered, "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel..." I smiled at him. "Let's try something," I said. I reached over to my bedside table and took out a tube of lubricant. Then I heaped the pillows up against the headboard, and bade him sit, leaning back against them, with his legs spread. Then I sat in the vee of his legs, facing the same way, my back against his chest. "Now, put your arms around me," I said, "There! Doesn't that feel good? I love feeling your arms around me like this! We can kiss," I turned my head to show him, and we kissed for a few moments. "And you can kiss my neck, nibble on my earlobes... and look!" I finished, taking his hands in mine to demonstrate, "You can reach allllll of my erogenous zones!" He murmured appreciatively and pushed my panties down. I kicked them away. As he took my hardness in his hand, I drizzled some lubricant over it, and he began to stroke, slowly, teasingly. His other hand stole under the cups of my bra and began to tease and pinch my nipples. I leaned back and moaned. As I'd suggested, he began to kiss my neck, tonguing my earlobes, and whispering "sweet nothings." The pace of his stroking gradually increased, and waves of pleasure washed over me. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to bliss. I turned my head to him and we kissed passionately, tongues entwining. I never wanted it to end, but soon I felt the unstoppable rise within me. I cried out my passion and felt myself convulse as my climax overcame me. He pumped me vigorously as I came, and wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through my body. At last, my passion drained, I lazed back against him and relaxed into his arms. I turned my head toward him for a kiss, and was met with a goggle-eyed stare of disbelief. "My God!" he breathed, "Do you realize that first spurt almost hit the ceiling??" I stared at his expression of amazement and began to giggle. Then he began to chuckle too, and soon we were lying back in each other's arms, helpless with hysterical laughter. There were splotches of my issue all over the place, on my stomach, my legs, the sheets, and, for all we knew, the ceiling as well. At last we quieted, and still holding each other, drifted off into languorous sleep. We spent as much of the next five days together as we could manage, and made love each night. On the fifth night, our one-week anniversary, I busied myself cooking a sensuous dinner of lobster tails, and met him at the door, clad in a lacy black bra, matching garter belt and panties, sheer black lace-top stockings and knee-high black spike heeled leather boots. I'd done my nails a deep, rich red, with lipstick to match. I'd done my eyes dark and sultry, and I was wearing lots of silver jewelry. As he stared in breathless admiration, I sank to my knees and opened his fly. Taking out his rapidly stiffening shaft, I began to suck him, without a word having passed between us. I didn't let him finish; rather, I simply wanted to whet his appetite for things to come. As we ate our candle-lit dinner, his eyes hardly ever left me. I posed seductively for him, displaying lots of stocking-clad leg, arching my back to thrust my breasts toward him, my jewelry and gleaming nails flashing in the soft light. He later told me that the delectable dinner I'd prepared might as well have been hamburgers, for all he could concentrate; all he was aware of was the growing pressure between his legs, his passion for me rising in his chest. We lay together, entangled, on the couch, our legs entwined, while his hands stroked my legs, thighs, stomach, arms, neck, breasts. And wherever he hands went, his lips followed. In the bedroom, I undressed him and once again went on my knees before him, his wonderful hardness in my mouth. As I gazed upward into his eyes, he gazed back at me tenderly, his hands caressing the back of my head, fingers twining my hair. We fell together onto the bed, and gave ourselves over to passion. Once again, I pleasured him with my mouth, and afterward, as I lay back, content, I felt him stir beside me and crawl down between my legs. He slipped my panties down and away, then, taking own hardness in his hand, he leaned forward and kissed its tip tentatively. I watched him, surprised. After a few exploratory licks, he took me into his mouth and began to suck. "Are you sure?" I asked. He mumbled encouragement, so I lay back and soaked up the sensations. Once again, my passion climbed higher and higher, higher even than when I'd lain in his arms as he'd pleasured me with his hands. At last, as I felt myself close, I panted, "I'm coming... I'm coming!" afraid that he may not want me to come in his mouth. "I'm coming!!" I repeated, breathlessly. He grunted encouragement his lips still on me, and I thought, "Wow! This is a mirror image of our first night together!" Then all thoughts in my head were submerged beneath a wave of delight as I came, and came, and came some more. It was magical. At last, as my ecstasy subsided, I opened my eyes and gazed down at him adoringly. His tongue licked my tip a final time, and he smiled. We lay together without speaking for a time, then, "My God that was wonderful!" I said. "Good!" he replied, "I really want us to be lovers equally. It's important to me." I thought for a moment. "Well then!" I smiled, "In that case, I have something else for us to try." Taking him in my hand, I stroked him to hardness again, then reached across to my bedside table and extracted the tube of lubricant, and a condom. I unrolled the condom onto his shaft, then smeared some lube into the crack of my ass, rolled onto my back and raised my legs. "Try it, you'll like it!" I said, seductively. "Really?" He eyed my ass doubtfully. "Sure hon! Come on, it's wonderful!" He got over me, and in a moment I felt his questing tip pressing against my hole. "Now, just go really slowly at first, okay? Just a little at a time until I get used to it." I felt him enter me. "Mmmmm!" I sighed, "Okay, a little farther..." He pressed inward. "Good, now just wait a sec..." I felt myself relax. "Okay, more... more..." He slid further in, and I felt myself relax more. "Good, now more... there!" I said as I felt his pubic hair tickling my ass, "How does that feel?" "God it feels wonderful!" he breathed. "Now, begin moving, but gently... Good..." He began thrusting slowly, as exquisite sensations began coursing through me. "Okay!" I said when I felt I was completely ready, "Go for it, cowboy! Fuck me silly!" He began to pump me, his strokes getting longer and longer. "Oh my God!" I cried, "You feel soooo good!" I began to tease my own nipples with my nails. He reached forward with one hand and grasped me, a questioning look on his face. "Yes darling, yes!" I moaned, "Don't worry! When we're doing this I can come, even if I'm not hard!" He began to stroke me in rhythm with his thrusts. I felt myself tear up as surges of rapture flowed through my body. He began to moan loudly as his thrusts got longer and stronger. I felt my own passion rise in a tidal wave that rose over me and broke suddenly in an immense torrent. At the same moment I felt him plunge deeply into me and his cock spasmed. Our screams of ecstasy must have been audible on the street below. He collapsed on top of me, spent. We lay in each other's arms for a long time, bathed in sweat, his cock still deep inside me. The following morning, I said goodbye to him as he headed up to the university for a class, and a few minutes later one of my next-door neighbors, Janet, poked her head in the door. "Coffee?" she said. "Sure!" I answered, "Here or there?" "It's our turn to visit you!" she grinned. A few minutes later she and Beth came in, clutching a bag of bagels. Beth and Janet were twins, although you wouldn't know it to look at them. Beth was short, with straight light blonde hair styled in a bob, and Janet was tall and willowy, with long, wavy honey-blonde hair. Both were university students. As soon as they were inside, Janet started singing, "Chrissie's got a boyfriend! Chrissie's got a boyfriend!" "What makes you say that?" I asked, innocently. "Oh come on!" she scolded, "Don't try to deny it. We saw you two smooching in the hallway the other night. Pretty hot and heavy it looked, too!" "Oh alright," I said, breaking into a grin, "Yeah, his name's Jason, and he's great!" "We need all the details, girl!" chimed in Beth. "Well, he's really sweet..." "And hot!" said Janet. "And hot!" I agreed, "... and we really get along well, and guess what? He's never ever been with a girl," and here I made quote marks with my fingers, "like me before!" "Wow!" said Beth. "He certainly seems to have settled in pretty well," Janet commented. "Oh yes!" I said, blushing. "Details! We need details!" said Beth, squeezing my arm. I poured us all coffee, and we had a wonderful morning, talking girl-talk. Our relationship continued very much unchanged over the following couple of months. We got along great, had amazing sex, and some wonderfully romantic dates. One morning he showed up at my door and flashed a pair of tickets. "Jesse Cook, tonight, at The Center!" he announced, "Everyone's going to be dressed to the nines, and I really want to see you in that beautiful black gown!" I hugged him. "It's a date!" I exclaimed. I spent the afternoon getting my hair and nails done. I got my hair styled into a romantic upsweep, with soft loose tendrils framing my face and falling on the nape of my neck. I had my nails manicured and polished a deep, seductive burgundy, with toes to match. Back home, I slipped into my black garter belt, stockings and panties, and then donned one of my prized possessions, a gorgeous vintage black lace bustier from the forties, severely boned, with firm, padded cups. Using surgical tape, I performed the old drag queen trick of simulating cleavage by lifting and squeezing together my pectoral muscles and taping them in place. I spent ages on my makeup, executing dark sultry eyes, complete with false eyelashes, and full, red lips that matched my nails. Sitting at my dresser before the mirror, I put on my beautiful rhinestone jewelry, the delicate necklace at my throat, dangling earrings, and matching bracelet. I slipped into my sexiest, strappy high heels, and at last, with a tremor of excitement, slipped on the dress. I looked at myself in my full-length mirror, tugging the dress perfectly smooth, and thought excitedly about the night ahead. I grabbed the beaded black evening bag I'd bought earlier in the day especially for this evening, and stuffed a few necessaries into it, lipstick, a compact, blush, mascara, a few dollars, and a condom. I met Jason at his place. He was looking achingly handsome in a dark suit and tie, and I rushed into his arms. "Wait a minute!" he protested, and stepped back, looking me up and down. "Lordy!" he exclaimed, "If you're not the prettiest girl there tonight, I'll eat my tie!" "Better take some ketchup!" I laughed. The concert was excellent. At intermission, we stood in a group with some friends we'd met in the crowd, sipping white wine. I felt deliciously glamorous, feminine, sexy. I could feel my garters straining against my stockings, the embrace of my lacy bustier, the tallness of my heels, my cock nestled between my legs against the satin of my panties. I could sense the eyes of other men in the crowd, gazing at me, and I knew it wasn't because they'd 'read' me. I shivered excitedly; I could hardly wait to get Jason alone. Our relationship went on, but after a time I could sense something wasn't right. For one thing, even though Jason eventually met virtually everyone in my circle of friends, I met very few of his. He continued to be loving and affectionate, but I could sense something was being held back. I wondered if he was falling in love with me, but was afraid to admit it. I too found myself holding back as well. I knew that if I let myself, I could fall in love with him, but until this mystery was resolved, I couldn't let that happen. A subtle distance began to form between us. Sometimes, as we lay, sated, after sex, he would seem impossibly far away. I came to know that my suspicion he was falling in love with me wasn't the answer, but I couldn't guess what was. I started asking him if anything was wrong, but he always shook his head and replied that everything was just wonderful. I began not to believe him. One afternoon, over lunch in a neighborhood restaurant, he seemed so distant and preoccupied as to be almost absent. Finally he looked at me and said, "Christine..." Oh oh, I thought, this doesn't sound good. "Christine, I think... I think maybe we shouldn't see each other any more." He looked away, embarrassed. I knew it was coming, but it felt like a stab in my heart nonetheless. "What's on your mind?" I asked. "Christine, I... I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've decided, well, I just don't know how to handle this kind of relationship. I'm sure you've noticed. We hardly ever spend time with my friends. You probably know I haven't mentioned you to my family... I guess the bottom line is that I've realized I don't have the courage to keep going; I have no idea how I'd handle it with my family and friends. I mean, you look gorgeous and so much like a woman, but the reality is that it would be hard to keep it secret forever. They'd have to know the truth sooner or later, and I just don't know how to handle that. You remember I once said that I wasn't afraid to learn new things about myself... Well, here's one thing that I'd rather not have learned, and it's not something I'm proud of... but there it is." He hung his head, avoiding my gaze. After a long silence, he continued, "I guess I'm not as free and adventurous as I thought." I reached across the table and took his hand. "I understand," I said, and I did. I searched for something more to say, but nothing came. I decided that perhaps it was because there was nothing more to say. We continued to see each other often, and we continued to be friends. We even met for lunch together now and then, but as time went on I could feel us growing further apart. Then one afternoon Jason came over to my place to introduce me to Brenda, his new girlfriend. She was tall and beautiful, with long dark hair, bearing a more than fleeting resemblance to Catherine Zeta Jones. She shook my hand warmly and said, "It's so good to finally meet you! Jason talks about you all the time." We went out for lunch, the three of us. Brenda was warm, funny, intelligent, and we got along great. I found myself feeling glad that, if I couldn't be with Jason, at least he'd found someone good to be with. And there came the time, a few months later, when Brenda and I sat together in the audience with tears in our eyes, and applauded wildly as Jason stepped up onto the stage to accept his degree. We went out that night to celebrate, as a threesome. We had fun; Brenda accepted me easily as a friend, and Jason seemed pleased I was with them. We spent much of the evening moving from one college student hangout to another, surrounded by other graduates and their friends, most of whom were well on the road to a hangover the following day; it was a wild night. Then one afternoon Jason dropped in on me to break the news that he had decided to move back out west, to settle down and open a veterinary practice. Brenda would be going with him. I smiled, happy for him, and wished them both well. We stayed in touch by email, but only sporadically. From time to time I would receive a message from him in which he would catch me up on the latest news; his practice was flourishing, he was happy in the small, quiet community in which they'd settled, he adored Brenda, and loved to once again to be able to hike in the mountains that he'd missed so much, living in the east. And then, not so long ago, I received an email from Jason, in which he excitedly announced that he and Brenda were engaged to be married. I read the email over several times, and though there was a smile on my face, I also felt a few tears prick at my eyes. I read it a final time; then I kissed the tips of my fingers and pressed them to the screen, and clicked the window closed.