"Hey, hen! Yer dick's hingin' oot"
The driver yells at me as he drives by in the opposite direction. I do not look down to check. I know my dick is tucked safely between my thighs, held in place by the home made gaff google showed me how to make. It is my new best friend, we go everywhere together. I turn and give the driver a one fingered salute, hoping he sees it in his rear view mirror. Just one more drive by shouting to add to the list.
His words do not bother me. Today I am invulnerable. Today I am unbreakable. Today I am going to get laid for the first time as a woman. so today the dickheads and haters of the world can kiss my tranny ass.
---
I have arranged to meet a man I got talking to in an online chat room. This is my third attempt to hook up with someone from there. The first guy was a no show and the second drove me to a local tranny night then had an 'emergency' call and had to leave. Yeah, right. He did hand me a twenty pound note for drinks and a taxi home, so I counted it as a win.
This one, Steve, seems really sweet. We chatted a few times online before arranging our encounter tonight. He's coming to my place, a one bedroom flat just off Edinburgh's Grassmarket.
---
When I get home I go through my wardrobe, trying to choose something that will send the right signals. The PVC micro mini is too whoreish, though I am really tempted to go for it. Jeans, which are my usual attire, might get in the way of wandering hands and I like the idea of fingers sliding up my thigh under a skirt. So, a denim mini it is, that's one thing sorted. For the top I settle on a burgundy velvet Goth top I bought from a charity shop. It's a bit tight but that helps it show my new grown breasts off to perfection.
Stocking or tights? It has to be stockings, that's a no brainer. A pair of black holdups.
For lingerie it is a lacy black bra and panties set. I have been saving them for a special occasion and tonight seems to fit that definition. The gaff will get a night off, it is neither black nor lacy nor particularly attractive looking to be honest.
Knee boots will finish off the look. I'm beginning to wonder if I have a bit of a boot fetish. Twenty three pairs isn't excessive, is it?
---
I give my home a thorough clean, thinking about the coming night with my hand halfway round the U bend of the toilet. This strikes me as strangely appropriate and I have a fit of giggles.
---
I soak for ages in a hot bath, day dreaming about what might happen and playing with my nipples. I reluctantly stop and wash myself, paying extra attention to my anus. I have got to get it pristine, it's expecting a visitor for the first time. I wonder if it is supposed to be cleaned inside as well. I tentatively try but it's uncomfortable so I stop. God, I hope it feels better tonight.
I sit on the edge of the bath with my feet in the water. I carefully shave my lower legs, well, I try to be careful. The water takes on a pinkish tinge. I stand to do my thighs and ass. No cuts there fortunately.
I wrap a towel around me and sit on the edge of the bath having a smoke. I run my hand over my chin and upper lip. Smooth but not smooth enough. I stub the cigarette out and shave at the sink. Better.
---
Back in the bedroom I blow dry my hair and run an epilator over my chest, wincing. Hardly any hair grows there these days but I need it completely smooth tonight. A quick spray of deoderant and I'm ready to get dressed. I pull the panties up carefully reaching round to pull my dick and ball sack back between my legs as I do so. Everything seems tucked in properly. I put my bra on next. I can get by without additional padding now, they are growing nicely. I adjust my boobs in the cups to make them sit nicely and give me a decent cleavage. Hopefully indecent too.
Pulling stockings on never fails to make me feel sexy. It's an expensive pair with a lovely sheen. I admire the resulting look in the mirror, surprised by how good I look from the neck down.
I sit and do my makeup. I can do foundation and lipstick fine but I am hopeless when it comes to my eyes. I mess up the eye shadow a couple of times before I get a result I am happy with. The mascara is easier though my eyes are stinging by the time I am done.
---
I check the time and see I don't have long till he arrives. I dress quickly, the feeling of the skirt sliding over the stockings as I slip into it is divine. I pull the top over my head carefully so as not to make a mess of my makeup and adjust my boobs again to display what I have to best advantage.
I brush my hair and tie it back in a high ponytail then sit on the edge of the bed, slip my feet into the boots and zip them up. Yeah, I have a boot fetish, just the act of zipping them up has turned me on.
I go and look at myself in the mirror again, turning my body to see it from different angles. I nod at at my reflection and blow myself a kiss. I'd fuck me. I grin and wink at myself.
---
I put on the lamps in the living room then turn off the ceiling light. It feels cosier this way, more conducive to romance. Plus it helps hide any mistakes I have made with my makeup.
I get myself a Bacardi and Coke and put a CD on to listen to while I wait. I sip my drink and think over what he has told me about himself.
He's 38, so a bit older than me. He claims to be trans but unable to transition due to his circumstances. That could be true, or he could be a crossdresser who doesn't like to admit it. I don't really care either way. I'm in no position to get judgemental. He wants to dress when he gets here, fair enough.
I think about making love for the first time as a woman. Okay, I am missing one essential hole but, as Meatloaf put it, two out of three ain't bad.
I get a call on my mobile. It's him. He better not be calling to cancel.
He isn't, he wants to know if I have a pair of stockings he can borrow. No way. I suggest he try a convenience store or garage on his way here. He doesn't sound very happy about it but says he will try. Was that mean of me I wonder?
I pour another drink and wait. I'm getting nervous now but the alcohol helps. I consider how crazy you have to be to give a complete stranger your phone number and address and invite them round. If I carry on like this I deserve to be a homicide statistic, I really do. But it's not easy finding someone to go on a regular date with, someone who would be willing to be seen in public with you, when you are trans.
The intercom buzzes.
---
I let him into the building and wait at the open door while he climbs the stairs. He comes into sight and he isn't what I expected. In my mind's eye he was an Adonis, rugged good looks, tall and dark. He's short, maybe 5' 7", and a bit on the chubby side. He looks like he hasn't shaved for a week. Still, at least he isn't balding.
He seems to react better to how I look, which is a relief. I am sort of hoping for a kiss at the door, on the cheek obviously. But no, he sticks his hand out and after a moment's hesitation I respond. I think I hide my disappointment well.
I turn and he follows me to the living room, closing the front door behind him.
---
I sit at one end of the sofa, expecting him to join me. He disappoints me again by taking the armchair instead. This really isn't going as I had hoped. I crave to be held, kissed, to have his hands tentatively explore me. Hard to do that from across the room.
I sip my drink, the music covering our silence. I remember my manners and offer him a drink but he declines. We share some more uncomfortable silence. I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it.
"Where's your bathroom?"
I tell him and he rises from his seat.
"Better go and get ready."
He exits the room, leaving me alone with my music, my drink and my thoughts.
---
He takes forever. I finish my drink and pour another one. I hope he is shaving, God, I hope he is shaving.
---
He returns. I look him over, trying desperately to keep my face expressionless. He walks unsteadily into the room on 6" heels, which I have to say impresses me. I bought a pair once and they were agony to wear sitting down, never mind trying to walk in the damn things.
His stockings look cheap and do not disguise the thick curly leg hair beneath. I see he went with a PVC mini. I am so glad I didn't. He wears a white blouse with a black bra showing through it, more dark curly hair visible where it opens at his chest. The worlds hairiest forearms are also on show.
The face, oh my God the face. Imagine a chimpanzee with badly applied lipstick and eye shadow. Actually, scrub that thought, chimpanzees have less facial hair.
To top it off is a cheap nylon wig, clearly purchased from a joke shop.
On the bright side I don't have to worry about getting an involuntary erection tonight.
We all start somewhere, we all have to learn through out mistakes, but come on, it isn't rocket science, have a shave at least.
Then I notice he is holding an unreasonably large vibrator in one hand. I cross my legs tightly.
---
He waves the vibrator in my direction like a pink lightsaber and asks me to get mine. Why he assumes I have one I don't know, but I do as it happens. I go get it from the back of my underwear drawer. It is small, slim and white and so far unused. I bought the smallest one they sold on the basis of where it had to go.
He is sitting on the sofa when I return and I sit beside him. I move in to kiss him despite the beard but he moves his head away. What the fuck?
He opens his other hand to reveal the remains of a little blue pill and asks me if I would like half a Viagra. I am gobsmacked. Why would I want or need an erection? I'm female, honest I am. What part of transsexual didn't he understand?
I decline and it is his turn to look disappointed. He sets the half pill on the table. I assume he already took the other half while he was getting changed in the bathroom. He hikes his skirt up and I see my assumption was correct.
He is about 5" long but worryingly thick. There's no unpleasant odour so he knows how to wash himself at least, thank God.
Okay, I know what to do in this situation, I've rehearsed it in my mind many times. My fingers go around the base of his shaft as my head lowers and my mouth goes over the head. If I concentrate on nothing but this part of his body I can get through this. Focus Vicki, focus. My hand starts wanking him slowly as I try to figure out exactly what to do with my mouth.
Lips in contact, check. Teeth not, check. Tongue indecisive, damn. I try licking round the head and exploring the hole in the tip. Oh, that works. I feel a thrill of excitement pass through me. He does not really taste of anything other than faintly of soap. I feel snail trails forming in my knickers.
His hands push me none too gently off him. Once again, what the fuck?
I feel hurt and look at him for some indication of what I did wrong but find none. He tells me to lie on my back at my end of the sofa and he does the same at his. He takes his knickers off and inserts the large pink vibrator into his anus. He tells me to do the same with mine.
I pull the gusset of my panties aside and wet a winger on my free hand. I use it to lubricate my ass hole, which is not being cooperative. It has the assertiveness I lack, it at least tries to say no. I force myself to relax and with a little effort get most of the vibrator inside. The stretching burns a bit but I am confident I haven't torn anything. I rotate the base of the vibrator and it starts to buzz.
I try to enjoy the sensation but I can't. Having an extra from a porn parody of Planet of the Apes facing me doesn't help. Also I find having something inserted up my back passage feels very like having something pressing to get out in the opposite direction and that is not the most comfortable of feelings.
I am now instructed to slide myself lower on the sofa, bringing my rear end closer to him. He does the same and presses the end of his vibrator against mine. His copious ass hair tickles me, which is not a pleasant sensation. I close my eyes and try to imagine that I am anywhere else but here.
He bumps himself repeatedly against me and I wonder what happens if he hammers my vibe completely inside me. I have visons of trying to explain this to a doctor at Accident and Emergency. I suppose it would become an amusing anecdote for them to tell at dinner parties or whatever doctors do in their spare time. This train of thought does not assist my vain attempts to relax and enjoy the situation. I doubt anything could, to be honest, this is a complete nightmare. I had wanted to be held and kissed and made love to. This is not love. But he is here in my home and I am condemned to endure this by my lack of assertiveness. It is not as if I can get up and walk out.
I feel him move away from me and open my eyes, He has removed his vibrator and placed it on the table. I do likewise, relieved. He tells me to get on my knees and I suggest it might be better in the bedroom.
---
We move through there and I slip my knickers off. Hiking my skirt up I kneel on the edge of the bed, upper body supported by one of my elbows, head resting on the forearm. My free hand is cupping my genitals to keep them hidden. I feel relieved as I hear a condom packet being torn open. He moves to stand behind me and pauses. Then he spits on me.
At the risk of repeating myself, what the fuck? Talk about adding insult to impending anal injury. I feel him rubbing his saliva into my hole. Okay, I know why he did it, but spitting on me? There have to be more respectful ways surely.
He presses against me and forces himself in. I fight my instinct to resist, lets just get through this Vicki, be brave. He starts thrusting. I try to get into rhythm with him whilst also trying not to be pushed across the bed and off the other side, head first onto the floor. It is almost pleasant, almost, I think I could get off on this if it was with anyone else.
Then he slaps my ass.
My eyes widen. Do people actually do that outside of porn? Isn't that assault? If he does that again I'll make him wish he hadn't. He does it again. I do nothing.
We carry on like this for a while, thrusting, slapping, trying not to hit the floor head first. Eventually I feel him tense and jerk within me. He pulls out and I fart. In the circumstances I do not feel the need to apologise.
He asks me to do him now. I'm still kneeling on the bed with my head down but I crane my neck to look at him.
"No."
He looks confused and disappointed. This makes me feel good, now he knows what it feels like. I explain that I am transsexual. I do not like or want my male bits. I do not use my male bits, just the unisex parts. He hesitates and I fear he is going to argue but intead he shrugs and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
---
I remain in the same position, head down, bottom up, dazed by how the night has gone. Where were my kisses, my hugs? Was I not worth even the smallest show of affection? Was I no more than a hole to be used as others pleased? Was this to be my future?
I finally summon the willpower to stand and adjust my clothing, trying to look decent once more. I sit on the edge of the bed. Maybe he likes his foreplay after? Perhaps the kisses and cuddles come now? I look down at my untouched boobs, my proudest asset. What a waste. I so want to be held, to feel another's arms around me. It is going to happen, I know it. I smile.
He appears in the doorway holding his phone. He is dressed as a guy again.
"I have to go, it's an emergency."
I look at him in disbelief. Partly it is because I do not for one second think there is any emergency but mostly I can't believe he would go like this. I am so naive. I should have known this was coming.
I follow him into the living room where he collects his vibrator and Viagra. I express polite concern about his 'emergency' and he gives noncommittal replies. I walk him to the front door and he shuffles out avoiding eye contact. The door closes behind him and I lock it before turning and leaning my back against it. I sink to the floor, sitting there like an abandoned rag doll. He came and went. Shot his load and pissed off. What a cunt.
I rise and make my way to the bathroom. The condom floats accusingly in the toilet pan. I fish it out and pop it in the bin with a shudder. I strip and have a scalding hot shower, washing every trace of him from my body.
---
Feeling much better now I wrap a towel around myself and return to the living room. My vibrator gets cleaned and put back in the drawer. The table gets some anti bacterial spray and a good wipe down. I sit and sip at my drink. I pull the laptop over and sign in.
The next one will be better, I know he will. After all, how could anyone be worse?
The CD is still playing. Brass in Pocket comes on. I sing along quietly with Chrissie Hynde.
"I'm special, so special, I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me"
A solitary tear runs down my cheek leaving a lonely glistening trail in its wake.
