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Message-ID: <31327asstr$994558202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Webster Dazell <webdazell@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Devil With A Blue Dress On m/f?, oral, anal, tg
Date: Sat,  7 Jul 2001 22:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "DWBDO.txt" begin>

DEVIL WITH A BLUE DRESS ON

A "Transgendered Adventure" by Web Dazell

"ADVENTURE (noun): an unusual and exciting, often hazardous,
experience or activity."

Welcome to the second story in my new "Adventure" series.  My two
previous series "The Arrangement" and "Breaking the
Arrangement"(which will continue) were autobiographical. 
Everything in them is based on what actually happened to me as I
was growing up.  While reliving these experiences was enjoyable,
as a writer it was also frustrating because of the need to be
faithful to what really occurred and not embellish events.

The "Adventure" series, as those of you who read "I SHOT THE
SHERIFF AND I ALSO SUCKED THE DEPUTY" know, has no such
restrictions.  While some of the series may have a kernel of
truth at their heart, in the main they are pure fiction, a chance
to stretch my wings as an author and go where my lust and
imagination (as well as reader requests) take me.

However, HOW MANY ADVENTURES ARE POSTED ON THE WEB AND HOW OFTEN
THEY ARE POSTED WILL BE IN DIRECT RELATION TO THE NUMBER OF
EMAILS I GET AT: webdazell@yahoo.com.  The more (and more
detailed) the emails, the more and quicker stories will appear. 
So now that everyone understands the rules, let's sit back and
let the next "Adventure" begin.

OK, before we start with this story we need to get one thing
straight. Despite what you're about to read, I'm not gay. OK,
maybe that's two things straight, me and my sexual preference. In
fact, I'm so not gay that one woman, even one as beautiful as my
wife, just doesn't do it for me. That's how I got in this in the
first place.

No, I'm not saying it's my wife's fault. She really has nothing
to do with this story except for the fact that sometimes she's
just too good looking. I know that sounds like a strange
complaint "Hey, my wife's too attractive," and a problem a lot of
men would like to have but none the less it's true.

Screwing a beautiful woman day after day is a lot like eating a
rich dessert meal after meal. Sometimes all that lusciousness
gets cloying and you just want to chomp down on a handful of
potato chips to cleanse your palate. That's what those other
women are to me, a handful of junk food that restores my appetite
for what I have at home.

So, when I need a change of diet and that happens more often than
you'd think, I go looking for whores. Not high-priced, hang
around in expensive hotel bars boutique courtesans. Or mid-range
escort service companions. Or even lower-priced massage parlor
sex workers. I'm looking for the ladies of negotiable virtue with
the bargain basement prices. The streetwalkers giving $10
handjobs, $20 blowjobs, and charging $30 to take it up the ass.

I'm not after elegance or loveliness, I get enough of that at
home. The whole idea on these adventures is to get my rocks off
with someone who contrasts in almost every way from my wife. Mind
you, butt ugly doesn't cut it. I'm not going to stop and pick up
a scanky-looking hooker. But anywhere between plain and homely
works just fine for me.

Age is another issue. I don't want a young girl with a hard-edged
body and tits that would poke your eyes out. When I'm in one of
these moods older women with stretch marks and sagging tits
really turn my crank (in more ways than one). And since my wife
is white, I usually can't go wrong with basic black.

I was driving along one of the downtown area streets known as a
hotbed of streetwalkers when I saw her on the stroll. On the
opposite side of the avenue, she was tall, dark, and, at least
from the far side of the six lane boulevard, appropriately coarse
and blowzy looking.

In order to get a better look at the merchandise I turned around
and cruised back by her. Liking what I saw, I pulled the car over
to the curb, locked it (after all, this was far from the best of
neighborhoods) and began to walk toward her.

As I got closer my dick started to harden. She was wearing a
silky sapphire blue dress that was tighter than Scrooge McDuck, a
strolling commercial for the benefits of static cling. Its
decolletage showed plenty of cleavage, exposing the upper slopes
of unnaturally rounded breasts that screamed "boob job." But
that's all right. Like I said, I was after the old Monty Python
treatment, "And now for something completely different."

Her legs, bare from mid-thigh down to the "fuck me" pumps she was
wearing, were smooth and curvy. Above the knees she was a
big-boned girl, not fat but with some meat to her. Her shiny
black hair was relaxed and smooth, not kinky. Done up in a
modified in a pageboy, it parted in the middle, hanging loosely
down over the large gold hoop earrings dangling from her
distended lobes.

Eyebrows plucked almost bare with blue upward arches at the outer
edges hovered above her brown eyes like a pair of demented Nike
swoops. An application of rouge only called attention to the
bumpiness of the skin of her face, bumps that the layer of powder
she had applied didn't totally cover up. Her thick broad, lips
were slathered with carmine lipstick, a color I thought would
look great in a ring around the base of my cock.

In a low-pitched voice, one with that Janis Joplin too many
cigarettes and too much whiskey timbre to it, she asked me if I
was looking for some company, the tip of her tongue lightly
brushing against her upper lip, a small teaser of what was to be.
Smiling, I nodded yes and then putting my hand on her ass, guided
her toward my car. I could feel the firm muscles of her butt roll
back and forth under my palm as we walked, making me sorry I had
neither the time nor the money to rent a room. I love buttfucking
cheap whores but it's not something you can do properly in a
small car.

We went through the usual preliminaries: "Are you a cop?" "No,
are you?," negotiated over the fee for services rendered and
then, following her instructions, I drove my car down an alley.
There, parked behind a hot sheets motel and backed in between two
trash bins, I dumped my load into her wet sucking mouth.

Now I've always been amused when I read these stories about how
"It was the greatest blowjob I've ever had in my life." For one
thing, I'd be hard pressed to pick out a single blow job as "the
best ever." For another, hummers in cars are a lot like eating
McDonald's while driving. Quick, sometimes messy and never nearly
as satisfying as being inside taking your time.

Then there's the high anxiety quotient associated with automotive
sex in the city. Your attention is always divided between
watching the head bobbing up and down in your groin and watching
out for anyone approaching the car. You worry about whether or
not someone will see you; whether you'll get busted and the car
confiscated; and, if you're going with a hooker you don't know,
whether she'll pull a rubber or a razor out of her bag.

So these quickies in the car usually don't provide the ultimate
in sexual pleasure. But this one was pretty damn good.

As she cleaned up the last smears of sperm the removal of the
condom had left on my cock, I did something I rarely do with
business girls, I gave her a tip. Yeah, it was only a lousy five
dollars but that represented a 20 percent tip above the money she
got for blowing me and she seemed to appreciate it, giving my
crotch a little extra squeeze as she got out of the car. And,
with that, our transaction was through.

Two weeks later I found myself back in the city on business.
While I really wasn't in one of my "moods," I thought it couldn't
hurt to check out the merchandise along the avenue. And there she
was again, wearing the same sapphire dress, wiggling her ass back
and forth as she trolled for johns. And so I pulled over.

This time we exchanged names. Her street name was "Andi." I told
her mine was "Dave." She said she had a new place we could go,
one where we'd both be a little more comfortable. Her new
"special place" turned out to be a loading dock at the back of a
vacant factory. Designed to allow semis to deliver their cargo
directly into the storage basement, the roadbed sloped down
enough that the top of the car was well below the level of the
rest of the parking lot. You'd have to be looking directly down
into the dock to see any part of the car.

I let Andi take the lead. She began by wiggling out of the top of
her dress, her squashed tits leaping out from their silken
confinement like a pair of frisky puppies bounding out of a cage
eager to be petted. Each one looked like a half of a medium-sized
brown coconut, the wrinkled nipples resembling chocolate covered
prunes. Thinking their shape was too regular to be the unassisted
work of nature, I asked if they were silicone or saline.

I know the old saying goes "Treat a lady like a whore and a whore
like a lady," but as far as I'm concerned that's just bullshit.
You don't treat a whore like a lady, you treat her just like what
she is, a business woman who's renting you her body in exchange
for financial considerations. Hooking isn't about romance and
love, it's about commerce and business and in business no
question is off limits, no request is verboten.

Without taking offense Andi replied that they were silicone. As
she lowered my pants and underwear, she told me the pain and
inconvenience of the surgery was worth it every time she saw
herself in a mirror; that Dow Corning's gift to flat-chested
broads helped make her feel more like a woman should. As her hand
stroked my erection, she asked me the natural follow-up question,
did I like them? When I replied in the affirmative she used her
other hand to guide my head to her tit. As I captured her nipple
with my lips, my nose was tantalized by a sweet green fragrance I
had never smelled before.

Andi was right, this new location did make me feel a little more
comfortable. I took advantage of the relaxed surroundings to pay
more attention to the woman in the car with me. I watched her
hair fan across my lap while I enjoyed the feel of her lips
enveloping my manhood, the hard vacuuming sucks on the up
strokes, the scrape of her teeth on the downstroke.

In turn I caressed her body, the rasping of my nails down her
spine drawing little moans from her busy mouth, my kneading of
her buttocks bringing them up off the car seat. It was only as I
reached for her pussy that she stopped me, explaining that I was
the one paying good money to get off. "Just enjoy letting me do
my job Dave, you won't be sorry." Again she was right as she
coaxed another toe-curling orgasm from me.

Afterwards, as we were rearranging our clothes, I found out from
Andi the perfume she was wearing was called "Jai Ose." Unusually
talkative for a streetwalker, she explained how when she awoke
from her surgery she had found a quarter-ounce of this very
expensive, very hard to obtain scent on the dressing stand next
to her bed along with a tag reading "New breasts demand the very
best."

Andi was never quite sure who had given her the perfume; it could
have been one of her "dates," might even have been her surgeon.
Whoever it was had hit a home run as Andi wore two drops between
her tits every day. The only problem is it was almost gone and
she didn't know where she could buy more; costly French perfume
wasn't the type of thing you usually found in the inner city
"everything for a buck" stores she frequented. Maybe I could help
find some.

OK, I thought to myself as Andi told me the story, here we go
again. Giving her that tip the last time clearly was a mistake,
now she's playing me for a chump. It never pays to get personal
with a nymph du pave, they always want to use it to their
advantage. Better to keep things on a paying basis.

Andi looked a little disappointed as I dropped her off at her
usual spot sans any tip, but fuck her, that's what she gets for
treating me like a mark.

Two weeks later she beamed like the summer sun as she unwrapped a
new bottle of Jai Ose. Now a hooker's smile is like a greeting
card, they have one for every occasion and each of them is as
artificial as the last touch of makeup they put on before
beginning their daily stroll. But Andi's smile was the real
thing, reflection of pleasure not cunning.

Yeah, I know I was going to keep this purely business but I
stopped at the HiLife convenience store after I dropped her off
and used the five dollars I was going to tip her to buy a Wild
Wild Winnings scratch 'n win ticket. Damned if I didn't scrape
off a $100 winner. I'm a firm believer in a lot of things,
including the idea that the fates nudge us in the direction they
want us to go, if only we will listen. Well, I was listening so I
used the money to buy the perfume, which wasn't easy to find.
After all it really was Andi's tip money in the first place. I
was just sort of investing it for her.

On the same date I gave her the perfume she began to "talk game"
with me, telling me about her time as an streetwalker; nothing
really personal, just some of the "tricks" of the trade, what her
other customers liked, what the other girls were like. And then I
asked the question.

"Andi, what's it like to suck a cock?"

"Oh, honey I'm not sure words can do it justice. It's something
you have to do to really understand what it's like."

"Try," I asked as her hand moved slowly up and down my erect
shaft. "Well, to begin with it 's fun. Doing a hummer on a cock
is a turn-on for the guy getting his boner sucked and the one
doing the sucking. Eating some guy 's rod is a big kick for most
cocksuckers and I 'm no different.

"Some girls will tell you it 's just like eating a popsicle.
Sheeit, ain't no way Dave. For one thing a popsicle is cold and a
man 's tool is warm. They may both be hard but a cock has that
elastic feeling; it 's got some give to it like the padded handle
of a hammer. And a dick is alive, you can feel that while it 's
in your mouth.

"Gotta tell you, I love the feel of a cock between my lips; the
way its weight presses against my tongue and the way it jumps up
against the top of my mouth as I lick it. Even if it 's a little
soft there 's nothing as good as the feel of a guy 's dick as it
slides in and out of my mouth unless it 's the same cock pounding
in and out of my ass. And when you get one in each end, man Dave,
it 's Heaven.

"It 's not just the physical stuff either. Blowing a guy and
listening to the sounds he makes is really neat. After I've been
with a client several times I can tell just by the noises he
makes how close he is to coming. I mean with you Dave, when you
're getting ready to shoot you start breathing in these little
short deep breaths, 'huh -- huh -- huh,' and just before you
squirt you take a real big breath and hold it until the condom 's
full of Dave 's baby-making juice."

Listening to Andi, who had continued to jack me off while she was
talking, had already brought to the edge of orgasm. Knowing that
a few more strokes of her hands would have me tumbling off the
edge of that cliff, I reached down and held her hand motionless
on my throbbing dick.

"But doesn't the taste bother you," I asked, trying to
concentrate on anything but the tingling sensation where her hand
rested. "I'm mean that's why you've never given me a bareback
blowjob right. We use these damn condoms because you don't like
the flavor."

"Nah, Dave. We use these condoms 'cause I'm AIDS-free and I'm
going to stay that way. Fact is I like the taste of cum. Got a
lot of protein in it, not to mention vitamins and minerals. I eat
five or six loads a week sometimes. Just depends on my
customers."

Now I was insulted. I'd been a steady customer, even bought her
the perfume and she was treating me like a regular john, someone
she'd picked up off the street for the first time. My mood must
have shown in posture because Andi took her hand off my cock and
instead placed it against my cheek, her eyes locking with mine as
though she was trying to read my mind

"I like you Dave, a lot. You're one of my special friends. And
I'm willing to give you special treatment. I'd love to swallow
your sperm and I will. I'll even let you come to my apartment
where you can cornhole me and whether or not you wear a condom
while you pound my ass is up to you. But you've got to do some
things for me." I waited for her to go on.

"Dave, as much as I like you and I do like you a lot, I'm not a
charity girl. I earn my living doing this. It pays for my food
and my apartment and my clothes. In a good week I can even send a
bit of money to my little girl." This was the first I knew Andi
had a daughter, not that it made any difference right now. "So,
if we do go bareback, it costs a little more. Not a lot but still
more than I've been getting."

"I'm comfortable with that, provided you're not asking for too
big of an increase."

"Bareback's a $10 surcharge, Dave and believe me it's worth it."
Ten dollars wasn't a lot of money. I pissed five times that much
away in lottery tickets every week. And this ten bucks would buy
me a sure winner every time. I let Andi know the extra cash was
fine.

"But that's not all Dave. There's more. I'm not looking to die on
the streets. I'm sure as hell not going to get AIDS just to make
few more dollars. I get an AIDS test down at county health the
first Tuesday of every month. It's free and I get the results
back on Thursday. You've got to do the same. And I've got to see
the results, Dave. You show me yours and I'll show you mine. That
way neither of us takes any unnecessary chances and we'll both be
happy, healthy and wise."

"Andi, I've got to think about that for a little bit."

"That's fine Dave. I understand. It's not easy to show up every
month at public health for the test. Sorta gives away your
private life, even if you use a phoney name on the paperwork.
While you're think about that, there's one more thing I want you
to think about. If we're gonna exchange bodily fluids on a
regular basis you have to agree not to have sex, any sort of sex
including a handjob, from anyone other than me or your wife."

"Now just a minute Andi. I'm willing to pay more. I'm probably
even willing to get tested every month. But how come I can't have
sex with anyone other than you or my wife while you're still
working the streets?"

"Dave, we've been out six or seven times now. You've seen how
careful I've been. I'm just as careful with my other customers. I
don't gamble anymore with my life than I have to. I'll trust you
on this Dave. It's not like the AIDS test. There's no paper you
can show me proving you didn't let some hard leg slobber the
virus all over your rod between tests. Your word will be good
enough for me, I know you'll keep it. But you've got to give me
your word Dave. I don't want my little girl growing up without
one of her parents."

My cock had softened while we were talking, the once proud tower
of power now slumping over like a candle left in a south-facing
window on a sunny August day. Andi reached down and began to play
steelworker, bringing my limp dick back up to a full erection.

"This one's a freebie baby," she said as her hands rubbed me from
top to bottom. "And if you can't live with the conditions I've
set we can still see each other. It's just we'll always be using
a condom.

"But Dave, think of the fun we can have if you do agree. Think of
how wet and warm my mouth will be without all that latex in the
way. Can't you just feel my tongue licking the underside of your
dick; the roughness of my tastebuds rasping along that blue vein
of yours; the tip of my tongue poking right into your pisshole
trying to hold back that flood of come like a finger in a dike
and failing, your sperm gushing around it, flowing over it,
sliding down my throat to puddle in my stomach.

"And my ass. Honey, my ass is waiting for you. It wants your
dick, wants it bad. Think about the head of your dick popping
past my sphincter. I bet you can hear the whimpering sound I'll
make when it pushes through. I'm tight back there honey, real
tight. And I can use my asshole to draw your cock all the way in
without your even having to push." At the thought of finally
buttfucking Andi, I shot so hard the reservoir tip on the condom
seemed to leap out from the rest of the condom like a hot air
balloon taking flight.

I gave Andi's conditions a lot of thought over the next two
weeks. I didn't want to catch AIDS any more than she did. Since I
lived in another county, I could give a fake name and address to
the health department. No one who mattered would ever know I was
getting a monthly test for the virus. But giving up sex with
everyone but Andi and my wife. That was the tough part.

As good as she was, and she's plenty good, my wife by herself
wasn't enough to satisfy me. That's why I dated streetwalkers in
the first place; I got jaded doing just one woman, especially one
who hated anal sex.

True, since our second date I hadn't picked up any hooker other
than Andi; hadn't really wanted to come to think about it. But
how long could this state of affairs last before the same wave of
sexual lassitude washed over me; before even reaming Andi's taut
ass with an uncovered dick became the same old, same old and I
was out looking for new thrills again?

Still, if the wanderlust, emphasis on the lust part, returned I
could always end my relationship with Andi. She was right about
one thing though; if I did agree to her terms I'd honor them. As
long as we were doing it bareback she wouldn't have to worry
about me going out with another prostitute.

You expect important government papers to be printed on expensive
parchment, with glittering gold foil seals and elaborate red,
white and blue ribbons. A letter from the Publisher's Clearing
House had more pizzazz than my report from the county health
department. Based on its looks, the thin yellow copy of a
triplicate carbonless form, a pale and scratchy blue note at the
bottom indicated I was AIDS-free along with the time and date of
my next appointment, could have been the receipt for the repairs
on my lawn mower.

For the first time, I had trouble finding Andi. She wasn't in her
usual spot when I went by and I checked at several different
times over several different days. Unless you have a phone number
or an address, finding the same hooker can be a hit or miss
proposition; that's why a lot of us who date go with a wide
variety of girls, better odds that one will be available when the
urge strikes. But, whether it was a regular schedule or just good
luck, Andi had always been on the stroll when I looked for her.

Her absence from the scene gave me mixed emotions. I was worried
something had happened to her; I was pissed I had gone to all the
trouble of meeting her conditions only to have her disappear.
And, underneath the other two, my Greek lineage had me wondering
if Klotho, Atropos, and Lachesis weren't sending me another
message, this time nudging me away from this choice. Being
sensitive to these little vibes, I made up my mind to take one
more run at locating Andi; I'd come downtown the next afternoon
and, if she wasn't to be found, I'd move on and give my business
to someone else.

I'd driven about a half mile up the avenue when a flash of
familiar sapphire blue across the road caught my eye. Andi was
descending from a city bus. With the nearest turnaround four
blocks away, it took some time to cross the boulevard, time Andi
used to disappear. After making several unsuccessful passes up
and down the street, I decided the way Andi had vanished couldn't
make the message any clearer, this one was over. On the way back
to the freeway, I pulled into the parking lot of a local bar,
intent on having a beer before I went back home to fuck the wife.
Andi was sitting on the third stool, nursing a Jack and water,
her mood as sour as the mash for her whiskey.

We sat together at a booth, getting slightly hammered while she
told me her story. Hearing her daughter Lateesha had taken sick,
Andi had gone to see her kid only to have her estranged mate turn
her away at the door. If Mary, Andi's grandmother, hadn't been
left alone with the child Andi never would have gotten through
the door. Except for Mary, Andi's family had all renounced her
and, since in their opinion Andi wasn't a proper role model for
her child, they had cut off all contact. The money Andi sent to
Lateesha was funneled through Great-gramma Mary.

I agreed with Andi that it just wasn't fucking fair; that she
loved her daughter as much as anyone else, that she should be
able to see her daughter whenever she wanted, and through the
front door, not sneaking around through the alley gate.

I told Andi that she was right that she shouldn't be ashamed of
what she was and that she should be able to openly help support
her daughter with the money she earned, no matter how she earned
it. Money was money and it spent just as well if you got it in
exchange for cleaning a house or for cleaning a man's pipes.

Before things got too maudlin, I told Andi of my decision, giving
her the yellow form and asking if she was interested in making
some more cash for Lateesha's school fund. With two quick
swallows she finished her drink, slid out from her seat and
walked toward the door. I left the rest of my beer behind as I
scrambled to catch up.

Once in the car, Andi wasted no time continuing her lament about
the way her family was treating her, pausing only long enough to
take a hit from a joint she had pulled from her purse. When she
passed it to me I thought what the hell and took a big drag. The
shit was smooth, hookers do have the best drugs. By the time we
pulled down the ramp to the back of the factory I had a very
pleasant buzz on and Andi's mood had brightened dramatically.

She apologized for not being able to go to the apartment right
away. She knew I was anxious to have her take it up the ass but
her roommate was home and she didn't like to bring her customers
there without telling her first. The feel of her fingers
encircling my hard-on made me forget any disappointment I had at
having to stay in the car.

To provide lubrication for her efforts she bent her head down,
hovering about three inches above my cock, her open mouth
allowing her saliva to slowly drool out, descending in a silvery
string to spread along the head of my cock. As her hand picked up
speed I took another hit from the joint and then blew the smoke
back into her mouth, our tongues dueling as they met for the
first time.

Laughing she pulled away from me and lowered the top of her
dress. I dove for her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her Jai
Ose as my tongue played "Indians and the Wagon Train" riding
around in ever smaller circles until I captured her wrinkled
cocoa nipple. I sucked at it as though it were a water spigot and
I had just crawled in from the dessert.

Pushing me away, Andi's fingers returned to my cock, gently
brushing against the sides, fleshy feathers drifting down to the
base. Just as softly she moved her hand upwards, making little
calming noises as I reached for her, the tips of her fingers
lightly squeezing the head. Her hand retraced its way back down,
her palm cupping my scrotum, rolling my balls around like a
gambler caressing a pair of dice for luck before a throw.

Her nails wandered back and forth along the top of my groin, a
jagged edge catching on a stray hair before returning to my
tumescence. Nails scraping upwards left pale white lines in their
wake, thin tracks which turned red within seconds. At the top she
pinched the head, not hard enough to really hurt but hard enough
to feel.

Then it was back to the base to restart the process, this time
adding pressure to her touch. My universe centered on my groin
and Andi's manipulations. Lazily she massaged my cock while I
felt my balls fill with sperm, pre-come starting to ooze from the
tip. Andi tightened her grip, slowly milking my dick, forcing
more clear liquid from me. Now my pre-come was trickling freely
down the shaft.

With the index finger of her free hand, Andi harvested the
glistening fluid from the sides. When her finger reached the
crown, she gave my dick one more milking, distributing the
pre-come onto her finger like a line of toothpaste on a tooth
brush. Smiling as she released her grip on my cock, Andi moved
her finger to hover at the outer edge of my lips. "Come on honey,
open up."

I looked at Andi in disbelief. She couldn't really want me to
lick that finger clean. Jesus, what'd she think I was, some kind
of a faggot?

"Don't be a baby Dave. I know you're curious about how it tastes.
You've asked me often enough. Here's your chance to find out.
It's just a little pre-come, it won't kill you." Appalled I shook
my head no.

"Come on sweetie, do this for me. Here I'll even make it easier
for you," she said as she wiped her finger against her nipple. "I
know you like to suck on these tits. Just pretend they've got a
little salad dressing on them."

Confused, I considered her offering. I did wonder what semen
tasted like, just as I wondered what it would be like to suck a
cock. A nipple coated with pre-come wasn't the real thing but it
was a close as I wanted to get. It's not like I was actually
sucking a cock for god's sake. And that wasn't really cum on her
nipple. Why not experiment a little?

Taking another hit off the roach to bolster my courage, I leaned
forward and, gingerly extending the tip of my tongue, made
contact with her tit. Expecting to be repulsed, I found my
pre-come had very little actual flavor. It was thick, just a
shade below the consistency of glycerin, but what taste there was
wasn't unpleasant. It certainly didn't taste like salad dressing,
more like undercooked egg white than anything else. I enveloped
the entire nipple with my mouth, my tongue lapping her clean.
When I raised my head from her tit, Andi's thick finger found its
way into my mouth, this time without protest.

"There ya go Dave. I knew you could do it. How'd you like it? Did
it taste good? Want some more?" Busy licking the last remnants
from the web between her finger and thumb, I could only grunt my
approval. "Yeh, I thought you might like it. Be a good boy and
later on you might get a taste of the real thing."

After inspecting my janitorial efforts and finding them
acceptable, Andi returns her attention to my groin, dropping to
her knees in the space between the two front seats. Dissatisfied
with the space available, she had us move to the back; perching
me on the seat so my balls dangle free in the air while she
positions herself between my legs. The joint moved with us.

Her broad tongue began to lave my scrotum like a mother cat
bathing a kitten. The touch of her without any intervening
barrier felt wonderful. I took another hit of the weed. Strong
arms tugged me forward, pulling my ass entirely off the seat;
hunching over, I balanced on the small of my back. It was an
uncomfortable position. Thick brown fingers pried my buttocks
apart. Andi's moist warm breath started to play against the crack
of my ass as her face descended, her tongue extruded outward. I
took an involuntary breath, more of a gasp really, as her tongue
began to swab my asshole. Impatient with the progress she was
making, her lips attached themselves to my rosebud like a leech,
sharp stabs of her tongue forcing an entry into my tight anal
passage.

I shuddered with delight at the unexpected sensations this
aroused in me, each thrust allowing her to delve deeper into my
ass, each thrust giving a greater degree of pleasure.
Uncritically, I allowed her to replace her tongue with first one
finger then two. I gave myself completely over to Andi's
ministrations. Eager student to her knowledgeable teacher,
obedient tourist to her experienced guide; willing to learn what
she wants me to learn, go where she wants me to go.

As her fingers began to fuck my ass, Andi's smooth mouth engulfed
my dick. The humid heat of her oral cavity was glorious; each
lollipop lick of my rod sending blue flames of tingling pleasure
throughout my body; the wet slick sounds of her fingers and mouth
mingling with my moans of excitement to fill the car.

Soon a third finger entered my ass to join its counterparts in
their massage of my prostate. As the sensations threatened to
overwhelm me I wondered what it would be like to have a real cock
up there, to be buttfucked by a man in the same way I had
sodomized so many women.

Reaching the crisis stage, my respiration came in short little
pants, "huh -- huh -- huh." The feel of flesh against flesh
instead of flesh against latex really was breathtaking.
Recognizing the sound and what it meant, Andi pulled back on my
cock until just the head was in her mouth. Then, instead of
sliding up and down, she was rotating her entire head in a circle
using my dick as the axis. I could feel my balls beginning to
boil over and then I was shooting, wad after wad spurting from my
dick into Andi's eager mouth. As the sperm continued to pour out
I felt as a rapidly deflating blow-up doll must, shrinking with
each spasm until finally I was as empty as an airless balloon.

But Andi still wasn't finished with me as she crawled her way up
my body; her breasts rubbing themselves red against my khaki
shirt; her cheeks distended like a chipmunk carrying its winter
forage. Her head level with mine, she tilted to one side readying
for a kiss. Obligingly I followed suit. Our lips met and began to
dock, mine open, hers opening. Expecting her tongue, I was
rewarded instead with my own sperm. I didn't pull away, remaining
in place until Andi finished emptying her mouth into mine, the
mixture of sperm and saliva covering the bottom of my mouth up to
the top of my tongue.

Whether it was the dope, or the sensual spell Andi had placed on
me, I wasn't not disgusted to find myself with a mouthful of my
own seed. Thoughtfully I swirled it around while Andi watched,
scrutinizing me like a horse player studying a tout sheet.

The taste shifted depending on which part of my tongue was asked.
At times it was salty, at other times coppery. Like my pre-come,
there was a hint of underdone egg white but the sperm seemed to
have added an overtone of raw oysters. It wasn't an awful taste,
at times it wasn't bad at all. You might even call it somewhat
tasty, if you liked the taste of men's ejaculate.

As my throat worked up and down, Andi smiled as though she had
just opened a package contained what she had wanted for
Christmas. "So, how'd you like it Dave."

Trying to maintain my cool and regain some control of the
situation, I gave an insouciant reply, "I'm not sure I'd want a
steady diet of the stuff but an occasional mouthful in the course
of some of our sexual gymnastics would be perfectly acceptable."
It was the first time I'd heard Andi giggle, usually she had a
booming laugh in the lower range of tones. This sound was
high-pitched as though some tension was being released.

"Sexual gymnastics is right. Dave, if we're gonna keep this up
either you've got to get a bigger car or we have to start going
to my apartment."

Three days later, when once again I found myself looking for
Andi, I felt like a serial killer. No, I wasn't out to murder a
string of victims but I couldn't help thinking about all those
movies; you know the ones I mean: Manhunter, Silence of the
Lambs, Se7en and Tightrope. The killer is always on some sort of
a strange cycle where the time between each killing gets shorter
and shorter, a sure sign of their ongoing mental degradation. It
was getting to be that way with me about Andi.

My episodes used to take place six weeks or a month apart.
Between those times I was perfectly content just having sex with
my wife. Then I met Andi. Six weeks turned into two weeks. Two
weeks shrank into weekly. Weekly transformed itself into every
third day. My desire for Andi was turning into a constant
craving. I lusted after her delicious brown body the way a
chocolate addict yearns for their daily Hershey bar.

Mind you, my wife wasn't suffering. Between bouts with my dusky
houri I was banging my wife like a big bass drum. She even asked
if I was taking some sort of herbal supplement. I couldn't tell
her it was Andi I was taking, taking every chance I got.

This time Andi was walking her usual route. I had no trouble
spotting her from several blocks away, her sapphire blue dress
had burned itself in my mind. Sometimes a mere flicker of blue
perceived in the corner of my eye could act like an azure
lightening bolt, paralyzing my thought process, leaving me
standing a zombie awaiting a command, conversation trailing off
to disjointed mumbles.  It was embarrassing, responding like one
of Pavlov's dog to a learned stimulus, but yet it happened,
happened repeatedly even in situations where I knew Andi couldn't
possibly be present.

In the trashy romance novels my wife reads the characters are
always "burning with the flame of their desire," or "drawn to
each other like a Morning Glory to the sun," or some other such
nonsense.  But there was no denying my lust for Andi had become a
major component of my psyche.  My infatuation was starting to
become an obsession.  I craved Andi the same way a repentant
sinner craves absolution and for much the same reason.

I'm not a religious person, at least not in the sense of
organized religion.  The hellfire and damnation services I
attended in my youth seemed to me to be more the work of a devil
who wanted to pit people against each other for his own purposes
than the wishes of a loving deity responsible for the creation of
each and every one of us.  But I understood the basic principles
of religion, including the notion of absolution. And that's what
Andi provides me.  Not absolution, most organized religions would
hold our actions to be mortal sins, but the sense of acceptance
and inner peace that's said to follow absolution.

I had a short moment of panic when another car rolled slowly by
my girl but the driver must of had poor taste because he drove
away without issuing an invitation. Stupid bastard, I thought to
myself smugly, he doesn't know a good thing when he sees one.

When she got in the car Andi gave me the good news, her roommate
was gone for the day.  Finally, after all the waiting, her ass
was mine. 

Andi's apartment was about three blocks east of the avenue.  She
and her roommate shared apartment 12 on the third floor at the
front of the building.  The elevator was out of order, forcing us
to walk up the stairs.

I made Andi go ahead of me, not only to lead the way but to allow
me to watch her ass move in the tight confines of her blue dress.
 Each step she took upward was marked by a corresponding increase
in my level of sexual excitement.  I didn't think I could get any
harder, hell the last time I was this hard I was 16 years old
getting my first handful of bare tit.

Once inside the apartment I took Andi into my arms, my hands
mauling her ass.  She broke our embrace, dropping to her knees
and rubbing her face against my erection, I started to pull off
her frock, only to be stopped by her request "to slip into
something more comfortable before you ruin my dress."

 While she changed, I stripped determined not to wait any longer
than I had to to sink my cock deep into her nether channel. 
There would be no foreplay, I wanted raw, primitive sex.  I
wanted to chastise Andi for making me wait by driving my dick
into her ass and hearing her make those sounds whose descriptions
had tempted and taunted me for weeks.

Andi returned to the room, dressed in a satin slip the same solid
shade of blue as her dress. The slip was cut low in the back,
with high slits on each side. She looked carrying with her a
small woven basket of condoms and lubricants which she set on a
small table next to the couch in the middle of the room.

Andi sensed my desire and acted on it, walking around to the rear
of the aptly-named "love seat" then leaning over, moving her legs
back and her feet apart, presenting her ass for my pleasure.  I
untied the cross-straps of her slip, allowing both the material
and her tits to dangle over the couch's back toward the front
cushions.  An flip of blue cloth and the object of my longing
finally revealed itself to my gaze.

By now I was so hard I hurt but, as much as I wanted to, I
couldn't just ram it in.  For one thing, my level of excitement
was so high I'd probably spurt all over her the minute my cock
came in contact with the cheeks of her ass.  For another, Andi
deserved better than a "ram and jam, the hell with you mam" fuck.
 So I did the unexpected.

Even as my right hand moved toward a container of Astroglide, my
left found its way to the nape of Andi's neck.  Brushing her hair
aside, I kissed the hollow where her spine disappears into her
skull.  She gave a little quiver, and began to slowly grind
against the sofa. 

My finger bumped its way slowly down the xylophone of her spinal
column, pathfinder for my shadowing tongue which left a liquid
pathway of saliva in its wake.  Halfway down my hands straied
from the trail to caress her sides, abandoning the tongue to
complete its journey unescorted.

Ignoring her ass, I stroked her thighs, her hips, her back, 
gently blowing against the warm flesh after my hands had passed.
I listened to her breathing quicken, heard the escape of a
half-buried moan.  And then I stepped back, ending all contact,
to admire what was soon to be mine.

I loved the way Andi looked arched over the furniture, inviting,
vulnerable, her legs beginning to tremble from the effect of
holding her pose.  And her ass, Andi's ass was like an overripe
peach ready to split at any moment.  I dropped to my knees and
gave each buttock five broad long licks, inhaling the scent of
dark spices her body gave off.  There was nothing buried about
her moans now.

I pried her tight cheeks apart and for the first time, saw her
pink brown anus, Clenching her butt, Andi had her hole wink in
invitation to me, not that any was necessary.  I coated my
throbbing rod with Astroglide and, moving closer, squeezed a
large glob of lube onto her tailbone.  Again Andi shivered,
whether from the temperature of the gel or desire or fear to this
day I don't know.

Digital Picassos painted her rosebud with lube, teasing the
crinkled edge of her puckered hole before sliding their way
inside, one at a time until an advance team of three fingers were
camped out in her colon, stretching and relaxing her for my
entrance.  The swirls of the Astroglide looked especially wicked
against the dark chocolate skin.

As I started to move my cock toward its target, the hand guiding
my rod brushed against something, something out of place,
something that shouldn't have been there; a hanging bag of flesh.
 Moving back I grabbed Andi by the arm, forcing her to turn
around and stand up at the same time. 

The expected female genitalia were missing.  There was no pussy
nested between the front of Andi's thighs, its lips wet with
anticipation.  Instead there was a semi-hard black cock, its
dripping crown emerging from its foreskin like a gopher peaking
out of its hole.  It wasn't the monstrous black cock the size of
a baby's forearm you read about in all the porn stories.  If
fact, it was a little less in size than mine but it was a cock
and it was jutting out from where a cunt should have been.

For a moment Andi and I both looked at each other, her eyes
betraying her worries.  As she started to speak, I lifted my hand
to her face.  She flinched away, expecting to be struck.  Instead
I placidly brushed my palm against her face before resting a
single finger across her lips.

Again I took her arm, turning her back to the sofa, pushing on
her back until she was once again hunched over its top, ready to
provide me with pleasure.

She turned her head to look at me.  I turned it back down to look
at the sofa cushions. 

"Just be quiet Andi, There's nothing you need to say."

As the tip of my dick made contact with her rosebud Andi pushed
back, enveloping an inch with her  first thrust.  Now it was my
turn to moan as she contracted the muscles of her sphincter
around my rod, dragging another half-inch into her hungry hole. 
A moist warmth spread its way down the length of my dick until
Andi's ass was nuzzled up against my pubic bone, our low hanging
sacks bouncing against each other as I began to set an uptempo
rhythm to our motions.

Andi fucked like a starving tiger, growling as she rode my rod
back and forth, its reddened length pistoning in and out of her
tight, distended hole, I buried myself to the hilt, luxuriating
in my mastery, however temporary, over the body underneath me.

Stretching out I laid myself over her back, our commingled sweat
providing the lubrication where our torsos rub against each
other.  Although this position took half my dick out of Andi's
ass and slowed down the momentum of our movement it had its own
rewards in the feeling of my nipples being raked against her
shoulder blades, the green apple scent of her shampoo wafting
from her perspiration-damp hair, the heft of her breasts against
my palms.

I turned Andi's face to meet me, her lips hot on mine, my tongue
darting into her mouth like a minnow, exploring along the inside
of her lips, across the front of her teeth, now back out to tease
the corners of her mouth, now in again, our mouths sharing the
same air, our lungs breathing the same breath, Her dark brown
eyes were closed as I moved my tongue to shower them with
butterfly kisses.

Then it was back to savage fucking again, pure mental lust
translated into physical motion, the room filled with our
grunting and panting, ecstasy given voice.  Grabbing the free
sides of Andi's slip with my hands, I used it as an aid in our
coupling, pulling her on and off my cock even as she pressed
herself tighter against the sofa, using its bulk to add strength
to her answering motions.  I pushed forward, Andi pushed back.  I
pushed forward, Andi pushed back.  As our excitement rose so did
the force of our lunges.

My orgasm ripped though me like a tsunami, carrying me high and
far on its crest before spending itself against the shore. I lay
slumped against Andi's back panting for air.  As my breathing
became more even Andi wiggled out from under me and guided me the
front of the love seat.  She disappeared only to return with a
warm wash cloth she used to bath my groin, giving the head of my
dick a lingering kiss as she finished her clean-up. I patted the
cushion next to me but Andi shook her head, rushing instead to
the bathroom.  The sound of running water obliterated any other
noises she was making.

I was surprised, but not stunned, to find out Andi was a
she-male.  Almost all of the indications of her true nature had
registered with my subconscious: the heavier than normal make-up
and the follicular bumps, the low voice, the thick fingers, the
fake tits; the clues were all there.

As a psychologist I know each of us has a primeval shadowself
hidden inside; one which eats at our table and shares our bed
without anyone knowing it; one which whispers to us at night;
tempts us with rough forbidden desires, black-veiled pleasures
interwoven with liquid crimson ribbons. The one we keep hidden
under a thin veneer of civilization, the one we want no one else
to see, the one we keep shrouded from others and often even from
ourselves.  Despite my professional knowledge I'm no less subject
to this duality of person than anyone else, just more accepting.

Andi and I are still lovers with all that term applies.  I've
taken her off the streets, found her an apartment and a good
paying job as an administrative assistant with a old friend from
college.  After all his mistress was my secretary for several
years so turnabout is fair play.  I bring her regular gifts,
including Jai Ose, and have even taken her with me to conferences
and conventions; the week in Hawaii was paradise.  Especially
when we lured the leilani into our bed, her pleas of "Hana hou,
hana hou" (Do it again, do it again) still ring in my ears

And yes, for the curious of you out there, with the help of
Viagra Andi can achieve erection and ejaculation. I know because
I've had her dick in my mouth and up my ass on a regular basis
and I enjoy it.  I've learned to suck cock as well as any glory
hole troll and I swallow too.

Does this make me gay?  Did I lie at the beginning of this story?
 No.  Because you are what you believe yourself to be.

Despite the disapproval of her family and most of the world, Andi
believes herself to be a woman. Andi thinks, like a woman, reacts
like a woman, dresses like a woman, lives like a woman, To me she
is a woman, my personal "Devil with a blue dress on."





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