0 comments/ 53209 views/ 1 favorites Swiped By: Brian78 It was a cold Monday morning and I was on my way to see my bank manageress concerning overdue payments on a loan. The loan had seemed a good idea at the time, a new car and some clothes but I was made redundant and couldn't even make the first payment. The manageress was a friend of my auntie's and had granted the loan immediately, my auntie having agreed to act as guarantor. I arrived at the bank and informed the receptionist of my arrival, she told me to sit and wait. Having more time to reflect I took out the letter I had received from the bank and re read it. "Following our meeting of two weeks ago you still have made no repayments on your loan. Would you please attend the bank on Monday morning at 9 a.m. to discuss the situation otherwise I will have to claim the outstanding sum from your guarantor." At the meeting two weeks before, the manageress had said that if I continued to default that she would take action so I guessed that this would be it. A buzzer sounded and I was ushered into the manageress's office. "Ah sit down" she said. "You still have made no progress with your repayments. I told you last time I saw you that I would have to take action, there are however two alternatives." I nodded indicating to her to continue. "I am reluctant to claim on your auntie's guarantee, being a personal friend of hers, however that is one of the two options." "And the other" I asked. "I don't think you are trying very hard to meet these payments, I consider that you could have paid something off of the account. The second option therefore is that you may have an additional three months to catch up with the payments, on condition that you accept a punishment." "And what would that be" I said. She pulled a notepad towards her and quickly wrote something on it then passed it to me. "If you accept the punishment you will go to this address tonight at 8 p.m. You will do what you are told by the woman that meets you there. You will not be told what the punishment is until you get there." "Do you agree" she continued. "Yes okay" I replied. I didn't want my auntie to know I had defaulted. "Right if you do as you are told you will have three more months from today to catch up with your payments." "Good day" she said indicating that the meeting was over. I returned home wondering what was expected of me. As the time approached I looked up the address on a street map to find it was in a very seedy part of town. I drove over there and parked. The street was strewn with litter and the tatty buildings made a depressing sight as I walked along observing the house numbers. I arrived at the address to find a very large Victorian terraced house and with great trepidation rung the bell. A very dowdy middle aged woman answered and gestured for me to come inside. Closing the door she said "I've been expecting you, come with me." We went along a dingy passageway and into a small room. "Now wait here while I go and get changed" she said, "oh did anyone tell you why you are here?" "No," I said. A slight smile crossed her face, "you will be smacked and caned" she said "wait here" she repeated, and went out closing the door. Rather surprised I sat and waited, oh well I thought get it over with and at least I would have more time to deal with my debts. She returned shortly wearing a long black skirt and white blouse. "Now we will be going upstairs in a minute, you will do exactly as I ask at all times and without question. There will be some people watching your punishment, you will pay them no attention at all. Now take off your coat and come with me." I did as asked and then followed her out and up some stairs. She paused outside a door, "just follow me and do what I tell you" she reminded. My punishment was about to begin. She opened the door and we entered. Inside the room was thick with cigarette smoke and despite the silence I could sense there were many people assembled at the far end of the room. I could not see them because of a row of tiny spotlights on the ceiling all pointed down at the floor where we stood. The walls were all painted matt black. I followed the woman to the middle of the open floorspace and she told me "stay there." I again looked over at the people but could see nothing except the occasional cigarette glowing in the dark. I got the impression there were twenty or so of them and from the height of the glowing cigarettes I guessed they were seated. The woman reappeared from the shadows into the small illuminated area where I stood. "Take off your trainers" she ordered. I removed them and put them on a wooden kitchen chair that she indicated and then returned to her. "Face that wall" she said, I did so leaving myself sideways on to the watchers. "Bend over and touch your toes" she said quietly. A glance at her told me I had better comply. The watchers who had begun murmuring to each other fell silent. I bent over. She began smacking me hard with the flat of her hand, surprisingly forcefully but still more embarrassing than painful. Aware all the time of the people watching, I hoped she would stop soon but she went on and on rhythmically smacking. I could see the cigarettes still calmly glowing in the dark out of the corner of my eye and then she stopped. "Stand" she said. "Stay there." I couldn't believe I was going to get away that lightly and sure enough she returned with one of my trainers. "Bend over, touch your toes." I did. Feeling embarrassed again I waited fingers on toes for her to resume. The murmuring that had gradually built up again ceased. Suddenly the trainer was sent crashing into me very painfully, I squirmed and wriggled. "Keep still" she said in a bored tone. She spanked hard with the trainer for several minutes. At first it was all I could do to stand it, but gradually my skin became accustomed to it and I was able to bear it more easily. As she continued I became aware again of the audience and my embarrassment heightened further. On and on she sent the heavy trainer crashing against me, while I wondered how much longer I could possibly go on. At last she stopped and replacing the trainer on the chair said, "stand up." I stood and stole a glance towards the audience. The low voices started again, still I could not make out the people sitting there because of the spotlights shining straight at me. I wondered what they were saying to each other but could not discern individual conversations from the general murmuring. I was just wondering whether it could be over when the woman returned to my side, she was carrying the chair and stood it in front of me. "Take your clothes off" she said sternly, "all of them, stack them on the chair." I began undressing slowly. "Quickly, I want you completely in the nude, now." I removed the rest of my clothes as quickly as I could, placed them on the chair and stood naked awaiting her instructions. The cigarettes glowed brightly in the gloom. "Touch your toes." I resumed my position and she began smacking hard with her hand again. "There she said, that's better, nothing to protect your skin now." A sharp crack was emitted every time her hand contacted me and it was indeed more painful. She stopped. "Stay there" she said. I stayed fingers on toes waiting for the next onslaught. She picked up the trainer that she had used before and now began a violent assault on my flesh. The shoe was very heavy and my skin was stinging and bruised but she pounded away fully for five minutes. "Okay then stand" she ordered. I stood and rubbed my battered skin. [BREAK] She disappeared into the shadows and then returned with a long bamboo cane, a hint of a smile again and then "I want you to kneel in the chair, lean over the back and put your hands flat on the floor." Still nude I knelt on my clothes that I had placed on the chair seat earlier, cautiously I leaned over the chair back and managed to touch the floor with my fingers. She came round the back of the chair and said "hands flat on the floor." I had to really stretch to get my hands flat as the chair back pressed into my stomach, but now she was satisfied with my position and I watched her feet as she walked back behind me. I had never been caned before and I began to wonder just how much this was going to hurt. The audience was perfectly silent now as they and I waited for her to begin. For some while she just paced slowly up and down adding to my apprehension and embarrassment at my exposed position. Without warning her cane swished through the air and connected with my unprotected skin. I heard a barely audible gasp from the audience as a searing pain shot through me, I lifted a hand from the floor intending to rub my skin but it became obvious that I would not be able to reach without standing up first. The burning sensation seemed to go on and on as I wriggled and writhed in a futile attempt at reducing the pain. Eventually it began to lessen and I became aware of the audience now quiet again. We all waited in the perfect silence for her next blow, they in anticipation and me in dread. It came all too soon, that terrible swishing noise followed by a loud crack as her cane found its target for the second time. Again unable to get up immediately I writhed in agony, every muscle tensed to try to dispel the pain. I tried to get up but a hand pushed me back down again. "Don't move" she said. Eventually the pain reduced to a general burning sensation and I relaxed a bit. My knees were hurting and the back of the chair pressed hard into my stomach as I waited and hoped that there wouldn't be too many more. I watched her feet walk slowly around me as she gave me time to recover. The feet disappeared out of my sight again and I guessed I was going to get some more. Crack, the cane bit hard into my flesh, then again and again. Six times she sent the cane exploding against my skin in rapid succession. The blows all seemed to blend into one and left me breathless with the intense burning. Another two minutes went by, more recovery time I supposed. My skin felt red raw and burned incessantly. Without warning another six swipes had my skin afire again, it seemed ages until the pain abated but eventually it did. "Stand" she said. I extricated myself from my uncomfortable position and stood. Barely having to raise her voice in the silence she said "anyone fancy a swipe or two?" She put her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the spotlights. I could see nothing but she evidently could because she gestured to someone to come forward. Three women appeared out of the gloom and came to stand beside us. I suddenly became more aware of my nudity with four of them dressed beside me, although they had been there in the dark all along. "Bend over and put your hands flat on the chair seat." She said There was some polite discussion as to which of the women would go first and then silence as one of them took up position behind me. Swipe, I heard the cane rush through the air a fraction of a second before it exploded against my flesh. I had hoped that they might be a bit more reticent but the cane had been propelled at full force. I rubbed frantically at my skin but was told in a mechanical tone "put your hand back down, you will get an extra swipe from me every time you move your hands." All went quiet again and then swipe, the cane bit once again. As I recovered a bit the women changed places and a different one took up the cane. Swipe, Swipe she took her turn to devastating effect, as I writhed I resisted the temptation to move my hands and just wriggled to the amusement of the audience. The third woman then took the cane, they all went quiet again and then Swipe, Swipe, once more the searing pain as the cane connected with my skin. "Stand" I was told, I stood up once more. "Anyone else" she asked the audience. No response. "Anyone fancy smacking." She continued. Evidently some of them did because she gestured again and two more women appeared, smiling. "Touch your toes" I was told. As I bent over I thought is there to be no end to my humiliation. One of the women looked very heavy and strong but I thought this probably wouldn't hurt much after the caning. The lighter woman went first and smacked away at my skin for two minutes. More embarrassing than painful I waited for it to end. Last one hopefully I thought as the larger woman took up position. Still touching my toes I waited for her to start. Suddenly an enormous blow landed sending me sprawling forward on the floor. The crowd burst into laughter as I slowly picked myself up. The woman glowed with pride at the reaction to her effort. "Get up" I was told by the woman in charge now smiling. "Perhaps you had better lean against the chair again." I resumed my position with my hands in the seat of the chair. The large woman began to smack hard and fast at my already raw skin. Urged on by the now vociferous crowd she pummeled away at me, hurting nearly as much as the cane. I moved around trying to avoid her hitting the same spot repeatedly but her great hand relentlessly found its target. Every time her hand connected it sent ripples outwards across my skin and I had to push back to avoid the blows sending me forwards. At last she stopped, out of breath and soaked up the congratulations from her friends. I thought this must be over now, but no. The woman in charge told the other women to resume their seats and me to stand. She took away the chair and placed it out of sight. Returning to me she took my arm, led me to the middle of the lit area and turned me to face the audience. Then surprisingly she went and sat with them leaving me standing on my own. I felt very silly and embarrassed standing there nude on my own as I waited for her to say something. After some seconds which seemed ages she said from the darkness, "right to finish you are going to bring yourself to climax, you have two minutes or else you will be caned again even harder than before. The time starts now." The final humiliation, all this because I had got into trouble with a loan. Acutely embarrassed I did as I was told, they applauded at the end more at my humiliation than anything else. I was given back my clothes and allowed to dress and leave. Swiping Right for Susan I very nearly swept left. I mean, she was gorgeous. Better than gorgeous, quite honestly. She had the body: curves and boobs, legs and rump. She had a very pretty face, and a beautiful smile - a real light-up-the-room beamer, a genuine smile. I was drawn to her, and I don't mind admitting it. And that's exactly what I was looking for: a connection, an attraction, something real. Her Tinder profile listed her name as 'Susan'. "Well hello Susan," said I. After looking over her photos on my Tinder app, I clicked to read the 'fine print', the short description Tinder users get to put up in order to state their case, their likes or dislikes, so on and so forth - and that was what gave me pause. "Straight up," she wrote, "I am trans gender. I was born male and I'm pre-op, though I've had my boobs done. If me being TG is a problem for you, go on and swipe left. If not, swipe right, and when you message me write the words 'I KNOW YOU'RE TG' so we don't have to have the awkward conversation. Toodles!" I will admit to being more than a little crestfallen. I mean, browsing through Tinder, reviewing the lady-folk anonymously, swiping right on the 'yays' and swiping left on the 'nays' is a fairly vacuous way to pass the time. What with Tinder girls being, shall we say, of a certain renown - the easily-bedded renown, to be specific, the Tinder dating app having become famous as a meeting place for one night stands - it's fair to say that at the end of the day, what I wanted first and foremost was a nice warm place to park my cock. Bearing this in mind, perhaps you'll forgive me for admitting my very first thought was "sorry love - I'm just too fond of the vaginas!" And I was all set to swipe left - my thumb was on the screen and everything - but I heard my housemates calling out from the kitchen that dinner was ready, and so I dropped my phone and headed off for some nosh. While I ate, I thought about Susan. And I thought about her. And I thought about her some more; the housemates and I were having pasta, and I was offered a glass of red wine, which has always been helpful in the thinking of deep thoughts. There were two lines of thought competing in my mind. The first line, which was becoming louder and sounding better as the night wore on, went along the lines of 'she's awful pretty. Great body. And that smile, man. That smile...' While the second line of thought was a reflection of my initial reaction: 'yeah boy, she's pretty all right. But she's got a cock. Could you handle that?' I wasn't sure if I could. I had nothing against her, nor against trans-gendered persons in general. I thought it was great that people unhappy in their bodies, unhappy with their gender could change their lives for the better, to assume the identities they'd be most comfortable in. I've always been a big believer in personal freedom and self-determination, and if a guy decided he wanted to live his life as a lady, I was in full support. All power to them. But then, I'd always considered myself very strongly heterosexual; I'd never dabbled in a bit of fun with the man-folk, never even fantasised about it. But then again, Susan wasn't a man, nor in the strictest of strict terms could one say she was truly a woman. Would she feel enough like a woman to me that the small matter of a cock hanging between her legs wouldn't matter? I had no idea. But equally so, I was becoming less and less sure that I really wanted to walk away from this possibility that was Susan on Tinder - a possibility which was becoming more and more intriguing... "Ah, fuck it," I eventually said to myself - and I swept right. And wouldn't you know it? Seems our Susan had already found my profile, for as soon as I swept right I received notification letting me know that she had swept right too! "Oho," crowed I. "Seems I'm a hit with the ladyboys as well as the ladies, then." Upon reflection though, I found myself feeling a little bad for applying that particular epithet. Dubbing our Susan a mere 'ladyboy' seemed a trifle brusque, derogatory somehow. Without knowing her - or even knowing if she'd even really be interested in talking to me - somehow I was already coming to the realisation that I ought to think of her as a woman, and nothing less. She wanted to be a woman; she'd clearly committed enough to the lifestyle to go and get her boobs done, and she had enough of that curvy, soft-skinned feminine look about her body to suggest she was well along the course of the hormonal supplements I had heard the trans-gendered folk were often prescribed. I could already tell that the 'ladyboy' sobriquet - or anything of its ilk - would be as inappropriate as it would be unwelcome. But never mind that: it was time to reach out. Having swiped right on Susan, and what with Susan having swept right on me prior, I was clear to send her a message and try my luck. I don't know what other guys do when they're trying to score through Tinder, though I suspected quite a many of them probably tried their cheesiest pick-up lines, to the certain exasperation of the lovely ladies out there; and so I wrote my standard greeting: 'Hey there Susan. How's your evening going?' A few minutes passed, and I found myself disappointed to have not earned a reply. Something finally clicked in my memory, and I very nearly slapped myself. 'Whoops!' I typed. 'Nearly forgot the mandatory I KNOW YOU'RE TG. Gotta get that out of the way nice and early, hey?' A response from Susan came back good and quick, to my immense relief. 'Lol,' she wrote in reply. 'Thank god for that! I really wasn't in the mood for another awkward conversation.' 'You get a lot of right-swipers not reading the fine print, then?' I wrote. 'With depressing regularity,' she assured me. 'I'm glad you read the fine print though. I was really hoping to hear those magic words from you,' she added, with a winky-faced emoticon for added effect. I found myself beaming hugely. 'Aww, thanks Susan,' I wrote. 'Most welcome, Marcus,' she replied. 'So you're sure me being TG isn't a deal breaker?' I wondered how to put it most succinctly. 'Honestly: I was drawn to the person first, gender second,' I wrote, realising as I wrote that every word was the absolute truth of it. 'Didn't hurt that you're a drop-dead stunner to boot,' I added, with my own sly winky-face to boot. 'Uh oh. He's a smooth one!' she fired back at me. 'Girl, if you think I'm smooth on Tinder, you should meet me in person.' 'Is that an invitation?' flashed up on my screen, and I could hear her coquettish tone even as I read it. 'You betcha. Got any plans this evening?' 'Name a time and place,' she invited. I named the time - an hour from now - and the nearest pub seemed as good a place as any. She agreed, and fifty-five minutes later I found myself waiting by the door, dressed to impress and filled to the brim with equal parts excitement and trepidation. What was I doing? Was I sure I could do this? 'But she's got a cock,' my doubts whispered in the back of my mind. 'She's not a full woman. Are you really sure you're up for it? You've never been with a guy. You've never even been interested.' Well, I wasn't hurting anybody, I reasoned. If she or if I didn't get the feeling, we'd just have a few drinks and a few laughs and bid each other a good night, as I'd done many a time before with newly-met friends via Tinder. And if I got the feeling, well... again, as I'd done once or twice before with newly-met Tinder types, I'd work my charms, try my best, and perhaps go put another notch on the old totem pole, if you follow me. Bang on the hour, I looked up the street and I saw her. And I liked what I saw. She was of a good height: five eight without heels maybe, coming to five ten in a very nice pair of heels, same height as me. Perfect kissing height, I couldn't help but notice. And the rest was just as per her profile pics: damn fine curves, tending to slim but very pleasingly feminine, draped in a form-fitting evening dress of a tasteful shade of orange. Blonde hair of shoulder length, framing a face that was round and pretty, soft and, of course, perfectly hairless. And as she saw me and recognised me from my own Tinder profile, there came that smile - and already I knew. I had the feeling. She may have had a cock, but cock be damned: she was my kind of girl. "Evening Susan," I greeted, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. "Marcus," she replied - and even her voice was sexy, not too deep, soft and feminine just like the rest of her. "Shall we enter the premises?" I suggested, offering her the crook of my elbow. "Let's shall," she beamed, and I took her arm in mine as we walked on in and obtained drinks. "Well," I said, after we took a tall table in a corner of the busy pub. "You're gorgeous!" She laughed, a delightful sound to be sure. "You sound relieved!" she grinned, to which I laughed too. "Now let me guess what you're gonna say next: you never would have guessed I was a guy. Right?" I blinked. "Well, it's the truth," I allowed. "I never would have guessed. But I wasn't actually planning on saying it - bit of a foot-in-mouth kind of thing to say to a lady," I reckoned. She seemed well pleased by my response. "Good to hear," she confirmed. "So then," I went on after a goodly swig of beer. "Can I run through all the other questions you must always get asked?" "Sure," she allowed, still in good humour. "Alright then. So when did you decide to start living as a woman?" "Eight years ago," said Susan, after a swig of beer of her own. "As soon as I finished high school. I mean, I'd known for years that I was unhappy living as a man. But I had an image in high school: you know, the popular guy, the over-achiever, good with the chicks and everything." "Ah. The guy all us other guys hated," I chipped in. "Exactly!" she grinned. "That was me. And as much as I wanted to live as a woman back then, I wasn't ready to rock the boat, you know? I didn't want to call any attention to myself. I just wanted to live my life and finish school without being looked at, talked about or laughed at. So I waited." "Fair enough," I nodded. "How about your family? Supportive?" "Mixed bag," she shrugged. "Dad was upset when I told him, he's never really looked me in the eye since I started living this life. Mum's been good, though I know she's not happy that I'll never provide grandkids. My kid brother was weirded out at first, especially while he was still back at my old high school; I think he was mostly worried about his friends finding out and teasing him about it, though me moving interstate helped avoid that. Once he started University things got easier between us, he's even introduced me to his friends as his sister. And my older sister's been the best. I confided in her when I was sixteen, she was the first person I told, and she was always so great about it, so supportive. Still is," she beamed. "She's got kids now, they all call me Aunty Susan." "Aww, that's awesome," I smiled. "Any old mates from school, or old girlfriends find out?" She smiled a little ruefully. "It's hard to stay anonymous in these days of Facebook," she observed. "I tried to avoid my old circles, basically cut everyone off and made new friends in a new state. But word got back. I'm the talk of our little country hick town, apparently," she smirked. "Well, you've gotta give the townsfolk something to gab about," said I. "Oh yes," Susan giggled. "And that I did, very much so." "So you used to date the girls in school," I began. "But now you seem somewhat interested in the guys...?" "Mmm, maybe somewhat," she allowed, though the spark in her eye gave lie to her heavy understatement. "Truth be told, I always crushed on my mates. But I went with the chicks to keep up appearances. And to learn all their little lady-like habits," she added, conspiratorially. "Oh did you now?" I said, feigning mild outrage on the behalf of all the ladies our Susan had hoodwinked. "Well Susan, aren't you a bit of a snake in the grass?" She burst out laughing at that, guffawing hugely, and it was with a start that I realised I had possibly dropped an inadvertent clanger. "Oh Marcus," she gasped between belly-laughs, and she had to clutch my bicep in an apparent effort to remain standing. "Oh man! I have never heard it put so eloquently! Oh wow." And as she regathered her composure, I realised her laughter was genuine, and I was greatly relieved that she hadn't taken my unwitting slippage as an affront. "You liked that one, then?" said I, deciding to take ownership of the grass-bound snake jape. She turned that gorgeous smile on me, and it struck me hard. God damn but she was beautiful. She had such a warmth to her, such a real genuine air: she was beautiful, inside and out, nether regions be damned. All of a sudden, I knew it for sure. Any lingering doubt vanished on the breeze, washed away by Susan's beautiful, engaging smile. This girl was for me. I wanted her, and I wanted her bad. My desires must have shown in my eyes. I saw recognition flash across her face, I knew she knew that I was feeling it; her smile didn't falter, in fact it grew bigger. And before I knew it, I was kissing her. And it was right. It felt right, I felt right, not a shred of it felt wrong. That little nagging voice of doubt was gone; so far as I was concerned, I was kissing a woman, and it was the very height of awesomeness. Presently the kiss was done, and we both stepped back to regard each other. "Umm. Wow," was all she had to say. "I know," I had to agree. "Do you always kiss your dates before you even finish your first schooner?" she teased. "Umm, well, no," I assured her. "I promise, I am not usually such a damned hussy." She laughed again - and man, how I loved to hear that laughter, how I wanted to hear more. "Well then, I must be having quite an effect on you," she said, in a marvellously breathy tone that was simply sexy as fuck. I had to bite my lip in an effort to retain control. "That's damning it with the faintest of faint praise, my dear," I assured her. I was all set to dive in and kiss her again, but she stopped me: she laid a hand on my chest, she scooched on over with a serious look in her eye, and she pressed her pelvis hard up against mine. And I felt it. It was there. She must have had it strapped down against her leg so as not to create a bulge in her form-fitting dress, but as she crammed up tight against me I could feel it: she had a long, warm, hard cock. It was pressed unmistakably against my thigh. And she saw that it gave me pause. "Marcus," she murmured. "Are you sure you can handle this?" I admit, I wasn't completely sure. I didn't want to be unsure at all. I wanted her, I wanted her bad. "Marcus," she said again. "Have you ever fooled around with a guy?" "No, never," I admitted. "But then," I went on to add, "I don't feel like I'm fooling around with a guy now." "Well, that's nice," she began. "It's lovely that you've bought into my gender identity, Marcus. It's just... I've been hurt before," she told me, looking me in the eye. "So I need to know, I need us both to be sure. Is this..." and she ground her cock harder into me, pressing it against me even as she let the desire flare in her beautiful blue-green eyes, "...going to be a problem?" As I saw the desire in her eyes, I knew. She wanted me. She was hot for me, she wanted me. Her cock was hard for me; I'd kissed her, I'd fanned the flames of her arousal, and she was hard for me. Knowing that I had done this, I had turned on this beautiful breathtaking creature, was an intense turn-on for me too. And it made me want her all the more. "It won't be a problem," I promised her. "Just so long as this..." and I rolled my own hips, and her eyes widened as I pressed the length and breadth of my own throbbing arousal against her belly, "...isn't a problem either." It was now her turn to bite her lip. "Oh damn," she relented. "I guess there's only one last problem to solve..." "Hmm?" "Whose place is closer - yours or mine?" It turned out she lived ten minutes away, and my place was five, so we bundled into a taxi and headed for mine. Now I'm not usually one for public displays of affection, but I don't mind admitting the taxi driver may well have had quite a show in his rear-view mirror: clothes were retained, but hands went everywhere. Her boobs felt commendably real - again, one might never have guessed, ha ha - and her skin was so soft and so smooth; between lengthy sessions of drinking up her sweet kisses, I kept exploring the long graceful sweep of her neck with my lips, kissing her all the way down to the point of her shoulder and back up to the hollow beneath her jaw, which seemed to set her especially a-quiver. After getting to my place and giving the driver far more cash than was required, we hurried through the door and spared my housemates a very hasty greeting as I led her by the hand to my bedroom. "So," I said, sweeping my hand across the ten-by-fifteen foot expanse of real estate. "Care for the grand tour?" "Sure," she giggled. "Well, first and last stop: the bed!" And I half-dragged, half-threw her down onto the bed with me, earning yet another fine bout of laughter which I was almost sorry to smother with kisses. Our clothes were a hindrance, so we set about de-hindering ourselves. My finest shirt was gone, followed by my belt; she reached back, making her boobs pooch out wondrously as she unzipped herself, and then she lifted her dress up over her head. She didn't need a bra - her boobs had that fine perkiness about them that surgical augmentation was famous for - but she did have a couple of pasties on; with a poked-out tongue for the huge grin they inspired on me, she peeled them off and flung them away, baring a fine pair of small pointed nipples. We were both on our knees in my bed, naked to the waist. My eyes ran up and down her form hungrily, followed by my hands: her neck so graceful, so womanly; her breasts warm, round and soft; her sides slim and curving, her hips petite; her butt, just perfectly so... And down in the crotch of her tight black boy-shorts, the bulge most commonly associated with manhood. She saw my eyes linger there, my hands pausing about her hips. She found my eyes; I smiled, kissed her gently, reverently, conveying as much of my appreciation and affection and attraction as I was able through my lips locked on hers, even as I let my hand drift down the trimness of her tummy and onto the warm, hard bulge of her cock. Her breasts rose suddenly as her breath caught, and I could feel the surge of her horniness. She moaned into my mouth as I worked my fingers along and around her cock, stroking it through the sheer fine material of her netherwear; rough and greedy, she defeated the button and fly of my jeans, pushing them and my briefs down and unleashing my own long hard rod. "Mmm..." we both moaned as she and I stroked at each other's cocks. I shuffled to help her push the last of my clothing away, and she did the same as I slipped her boyshorts down her long, smooth, shapely legs. We both hung back a moment to regard each other: me with my strong shoulders, flat stomach and generous body hair, my cock arcing upwards, my bulging purple head threatening to skewer my navel; her with her beautiful feminine body, boobs to next Tuesday, hips and curves, skin so soft and womanly without a hair out of place, and her own cock slightly smaller than mine, jutting out perpendicular to her body, a single drop of pre-come dangling off her own streamlined knob. Without hesitation, I bundled back into her, pressing hard into her embrace. Her cock was pressed hard up against mine, and it thrilled me greatly. It wasn't the alien appendage I had feared it might be - it was her, a part of her, and it was as beautiful as the rest of her. It wasn't even that it didn't bother me; I loved it. I loved her cock. And I wanted to let it show. Swiping Right for Susan So I let my kisses head south: down her neck again, which she simply loved. Kisses and caresses across her chest, her pert breasts and little nipples; she seemed to love the feel of my lips and tongue swirling across the tiny bumps of her aureoles, pressing her tit hard against my mouth to encourage more. Kisses lower still, down her stomach, lower still... "Oh Marcus," she moaned, a mixture of arousal and wariness. "Are you sure...?" I looked up, and caught her eye. "Susan," I said. "It's beautiful. I love your cock, Susan. It's just as beautiful as the rest of you." Her breath caught again, and she may even have teared up a trifle. "Oh Marcus," she said again as I gently pushed her backwards to lie her down. "Besides: I always go down on my ladies," I added. "It's a habit of mine." She laughed even as she slapped me about the ears in admonition. I grinned back at her as I ran my hands down her hips and over her legs, as my kisses skipped over her twitching gorging cock to land on her balls - smooth and hairless like the rest of her, drawn tight with her bulging arousal, small and symmetrical and again, just perfect - before I looked her again in the eyes... And I let my tongue trail up the ridges of her cock, grasping my hand about her base, the tip of my tongue travelling slowly up the length of her cock and tasting that little drop of pre-cum - "mmm, salty," I murmured with a wink, causing her to giggle again and shake her head at my dopiness, even as I grinned at myself before taking the head of her cock in my mouth. And her jaw went slack as I tongued at the ever-sensitive glans about the base of her cock's head, swirling my tongue roughly about her head, lubing her up with my spit. True, I'd never sucked a cock before, but I'd had my share of excellent headjobs and I knew what felt good and what felt great; I truly did always go down on my ladies, and I was determined to please Susan just as well as I've pleased my other lovers. If not more so. Having teased her knob goodly enough, I formed a tight seal about the shaft of her cock with my lips, and I drove down on her; I rode back up, swirled about the glans of her cock's head again, before driving back down and up as much of her cock as I could fit, and repeating the process. It was what would have worked on me, a good decent face-fuck, and it must have been working for her too: after barely a minute she warned me, "Marcus, I'm gonna come really soon..." "Mmm!" I mumphed, not letting up on sucking hard on my lady's cock. "Is it okay if I come in your mouth?" she asked, looking down at me with concern. I caught her eye again - I just love making eye contact during oral sex, cunnilingus or fellatio as it may happen - and I let the cheeky twinkle in my eye assure her that it was plenty more than okay. It was all the encouragement she needed; her hips were bucking beneath me, her stomach had drawn hard and tight, and as I gripped the very base of her cock I could feel her balls twitching - her load wasn't far away. She was moaning and groaning, gasping for air, and it was well upon her; I saw her balls spasm, I felt that pump and surge through her cock so familiar in my own experience, yet so new to feel it in another, and with a glorious sense of thrill and gratification I let my lover squirt her hot white load all over the back of my throat before it came pumping in long, velvety waves across my tongue, and I drank it all down, slurping down every drop of my woman's hard-earned hot white seed. I milked her dry, feeling quite pleased with myself as she shuddered and gasped and groaned, remaining high on the peak of her orgasm for the longest of times before she finally collapsed back down upon the bed and looked down at me, her face a picture of wonderment and gratitude. "Oh baby," she was cooing, ever so womanly as I wanked the last of her hot white cum out of her cock. "Oh babe, oh babe oh babe. How can I ever thank you!" Swallowing the last of her cum, I left off of her shrinking cock and gave her a wicked smile. "Gimme a kiss, lover!" I demanded. She laughed at that, but she didn't back down. "I'm not afraid of the taste of cum," she informed me, as we met for a kiss most long and lusty. "Are you sure you've never sucked a cock before?" she added. "First time," I assured her. "Well you got me off in record time," she said, with a contented sigh. "A natural-born cock sucker, that's my baby!" "Why thank you!" I beamed. "Speaking of such things..." I added, waggling my own twitching, longest-it-had-ever-been cock at her. "Oh now, where are my manners?" she chided herself, before pushing me back and diving mouth-first on my own cock. She repeated my own action on myself, teasing my glans mercilessly, swirling my gorging great purple helmet about between her tongue and the rough roof of her mouth before driving hard up and down on me, and even doing a commendable job of deep-throating my length, riding her lips right down to the root of my shaft before sliding on all the way back to my tip. As fine as it felt, I wanted even more, and it was time to tell her. "Girl," I told her. "I've gotta have you. I need to be in you." She let my cock slip out of her tight little mouth with a loud 'POP!', and fixed me with a wicked eye. "Say it," she demanded. "Susan, I wanna fuck your tight little arse," I grinned. "MmmMMM!" she grinned before clambering up my body and kissing me, her mouth tasting of the warm meaty taste of my own cock. "Take me, lover!" I reached for my drawer full of condoms, and she reached for her dainty little purse, from which she pulled a most-welcome bottle of lube. "I wasn't sure if you'd have any," she explained. "I don't," I confessed; anal wasn't usually my style, but in this case I was definitely eager to make an exception. She grinned, and lubed up my length and breadth, rubbing the cool viscous ooze onto my sheathed shaft before rubbing more onto my fingers. "Have you done much anal before?" "Only a little. I was young and naïve, and have since learned I went at it much too hard and fast," I assured her. "Ah," she smiled. "Well now that's the key," she added, as she took my hand and about-faced before me, showing me her incredibly tight, perky little arse. "You've got to ease into it..." and she guided my hand, lining my fingers up with her puckered little rose; "you've got to warm me up..." as she encouraged me to lube around the rim of her hole, gradually swirling towards the centre and deeper, deeper... "And break me in," she whispered, as my finger breached her tight little ring, depositing some welcome lubrication in her depths. "Oh damn Susan," I growled, caressing her beautiful back as I felt her most personal inner depths. "Fuck me, Marcus," she breathed, "fuck me with your fingers first; fuck me, fuck me yes Marcus, yes..." as I fingered her, as I finger-fucked her tight little asshole... "I'm ready," she told me. "But please..." "Go slow?" I murmured, as I moved up close and hard behind her. "Mmm..." she cooed softly as my rod twitched electrically, laying shortly upon the small of her back as I delicately withdrew my digit. "Ohhh..." she moaned as I lined my over-large head up at her now-opened hole, and for the first time in my life I worried that perhaps my cock was too large for the purpose. "Oh Marcus..." she intoned, low and sexy as my cock slowly stretched her out, as I drove forwards like the world's slowest battering ram, trying to read through the tip of my cock as her muscles clenched and relaxed, trying to let me in. "Oh Marcus, you're so damned big!" "Do you want me to stop?" I asked of her, low and sexy myself. "Oh don't you dare!" she nearly squealed, and with a heightening series of "oh... oh...! oh!!"s, transmitting so delightfully the pleasure and pain she so keenly enjoyed, my girth stretched out my woman's asshole, drove on through her clenching ring, and slipped slow and sure on home to the hilt. Fully within her, I was finally able to hold her; I held her tight against me, hugging her from behind, running my hands first over her breasts, down her sides, and down again to find - to my immense glee - that my woman's cock was hard again. "Ohhhh..." she moaned again as I reached around and stroked her. "Oh Marcus..." she said again, leaning forwards, pushing her arse harder against my cock. "Marcus: fuck me." And I did. I fucked her. I fucked her tight, grasping little asshole even as I reached around and caressed her long hard cock. I drove into her, slow and gentle at first, reading her moans and sighs to determine how quickly I could speed it up, thrusting into her, grasping the shaft of her cock and wanking her, giving her the reach-around I had been dying to give her all night. I was hitting her spot, and I knew it. From an amount of digital experimentation on myself I knew exactly where our G-spots were, and I made sure I angled myself to work hard against it. I had her going again; she was so gloriously beautiful in pleasure, her moaning groaning escalating pleasure serving to build my own arousal, building my long-awaited peak higher and higher even as I tried to climb and surmount it. We gave ourselves to the moment and to abandon, relinquishing all self-control as we made love. I slammed into her now, she was ready for it, her depths accommodated my ever-building girth and grasped me and held me exquisitely. She cried out but not for pain, she cried out as she built to a new and higher peak of her own; we moaned and groaned, gasped and grunted, building and building to an intensity the likes of which I'd never known... And we came as one, I shot my load as she shot hers, our cocks spurted simultaneously and we both shot hot white jets of cum for each other, yelling and screaming and caring not for what my housemates surely could hear full and well, crying out and coming together, coming as one. I could hardly stand, laying my weight against her. Her knees must have been as weak as mine; she buckled, and we fell about each other, collapsing back down upon the bed and into each other's arms, laughing and giggling and kissing and kissing and kissing. After an age, I held her in my arms, this exquisite creature of such incredible and unique beauty. "I've thought about going through with the operation," she confessed to me. "Mmm?" "How would you feel if I went full woman?" she asked. "Well, honestly..." and I cradled her well-pleased cock in my hands, holding her softly, tender and loving. "I think I would really miss it." "Yeah?" she said, turning in my arms to face me with a smile. "You like it?" "I love it," I told her. "It's you. It's a part of you. You're so beautiful, Susan. It would be a shame to lose it." She beamed at me, so beatific she seemed to be aglow. "Well, I've quite enjoyed myself with it too, over the years," she confessed. "I mean, part of me would love to have the fully-female look and say goodbye to the cock and balls. But another part of me... well, I mean: you're just so damned good at sucking cock!" "You think so?" I grinned. "I know so!" "Well, I do love to please," I told her. "So I guess that means we shall have to do this again sometime, eh?" She grinned at my cheek. "Shithead," she chided playfully. "You love it." "Yeah," she smiled. "Yeah, I do." And we kissed again; and again; and many a good long time since.