Beryl's Story
"Hi there." Anastasia closed the door behind her and came over to kiss me. "How are you two doing? And how did the girls do?"
"We're fine," I said and put down the cards. Beryl had beaten me at Kalooki as usual — she was a wizard with cards.
"And the girls were
so sweet," Beryl said and put her cards down too. "They ate Alexandre's chilli con carne like I've never seen them eat before." She looked at me. "That guy of yours may not be well versed in Caribbean cooking, but he's one mean chef all the same."
Anastasia had undressed while we were talking and dropped her naked self down in my lap, threatening to do my slowly growing erection much harm. She lifted herself up and guided the pressing problem inside her wet pussy. We had gotten so used to being free around Beryl that we didn't give it second thoughts that, while we were stark naked on our side, she was sitting fully dressed on the other side of the table.
I looked at the Kalooki score and saw I was well ahead in points as usual. Unfortunately, Kalooki is about getting as
few points as possible, not the other way round!
"How come you're always winning in Kalooki?" I asked Beryl.
"Honestly, I don't know," she answered. "But I have been playing cards and playing with cards since I can remember."
"Tell us about it," Anastasia said. "You haven't really said anything about yourself and your childhood."
"Yeah," I added. "We'd love to hear more of your history."
"Oh, I don't know," Beryl said hesitatingly. "It's a bit strange and somewhat embarrassing."
"It can't be too bad, can it?" I said. "Is it worse than Anastasia's? I mean with her dad raping her and getting her with child?"
"No, not really." She hesitated. "It's just a much longer story." She paused for a long time. "It's only I haven't managed quite as well as she has." She breathed deeply and started on her story:
When I was a little boy — you hadn't figured that out, Alexandre? Yeah, I was born a boy! — I always felt different. I didn't know why, but I just didn't fit in. Apart from a few nerdy friends, I kept to myself and one day, when I was about five or six, I found a deck of cards in a drawer. I started shuffling the deck and see what I could do with it. I did it every day and in a few weeks time I could handle the cards like a pro, despite them being much too big for my little hands. I didn't know any card tricks, but one of my nerdy friends told me about some books about magic he'd seen in the library so I went there and picked up a few books. After a couple of months I started to perform for my parents' friends. If I may say so, I did rather well. 'The Great Bariloni' I called myself.
Probably about a year later or so — I was seven, I think — I had just finished a performance, when one of my dad's friends, Logan, came over and kneeled in front of me. He was one of those really masculine men, square face, jet black hair, toned and tanned body, a bit like Rock Hudson, you know. "I have a birthday party coming — do you think you could perform for me and my friends?"
I must have looked slightly surprised at this proposition. I had only performed in front of my family and their friends, never in front of strangers. I mean
real strangers.
"You'll get paid, of course."
"I..."
"Please! It would mean a lot to me."
Dad stood smiling behind his friend and nodded.
"Oh, OK," I stuttered. "When is the party?"
"Next weekend," he said. "I'll pick you up and bring you back afterwards."
"Alright," I said in a bit of a stupor.
He patted my cheek. "Thank you, I look forward to see your act again, Barry. Sorry, Bariloni."
The following week went so rapidly I hardly felt I had time to prepare myself before his birthday party. He picked me Saturday morning around ten as he said he had so many other things to do. Strangely, I remember he wore loose shorts, a white T-shirt and leather flip-flops. I can still see him for my inner eye. He looked so handsome — No, beautiful! — and I had an instant crush on him. I too wore shorts and T-shirt as it was an unusually hot day.
"Let's put this in the boot," Logan said and took my bag with the tricks in them. "And this goes in here." He closed the boot and took my suit and hung it inside the rear door. He put a hand lightly on my back and steered me towards the passenger side. I felt like a branding iron shaped like his hand had been put on my back. I could hardly breathe. He opened the door and pushed me gently towards the seat. "In you go," he said. I sat down in the seat and belted in.
So far I hadn't uttered a word since I said hello to him.
He sat in the driver's seat and put the car in drive and pulled gently out. When we came out to the main road, he started to talk again.
"Have you got many friends?" he asked.
"Not really," I said. "Just Harry and Will and Andy."
"Why haven't such a nice and good looking fella like you got more friends?" He rested his hand on my thigh and I thought I would die.
"They're so silly," I said. "And they always tease us, just because we try to learn in school."
He caressed my thigh gently with small moves. "Don't mind them," he said. "They know you're smarter than they are and they're just jealous."
I grimaced. "Yeah, but it's not much fun knowing that when somebody empties a cup of water over your head."
He turned to face me, despite driving more than 50 down the road. "Bastards!" he exclaimed. "Sorry!"
"That's OK," I said. "They really are bastards."
He gave my thigh a reassuring squeeze. "That's the spirit," he said and manoeuvred the car onto his drive. "We're here," he proclaimed and jumped out. Before I had had time to unbelt, he had opened the door for me and helped me out. He got the suit and the bag and guided us inside his big house.
Looking back at it, I can see where a behaviour like this would lead, but at the time I was a gullible seven-year-old with a big crush.
"I'll change into something more comfortable," he said just after we had entered the house. "I'll get much too sweaty in these clothes as we need to set up the scene for your performance and such."
"Fine," I said as I looked around the big room in awe. He had everything we didn't, obviously much more well off than my parents.
"Why don't you take off your top and your trousers, then you could help?"
"But," I said. "Then I'll wear only my underpants."
"Don't worry," he said and winked. "It's only us guys here so nobody will be the wiser."
He went upstairs to change and left me slightly bewildered in the room. He came back a few minutes later wearing a string vest and a pair of tight shorts that made no nonsense about what it hid from direct view.
"Come on," he said. "You're not changed yet? We'd better get going so we're ready before the guests arrive."
I shook my head and stared at his crotch. The outline of his penis was clearly outlined and they were made of the thinnest possible silk. As in a trance, I undressed, until I stood before him only in my underpants. I can't remember anything about them, I only remember him nodding approvingly and putting a hand on my shoulder.
"Let's get started then," he said and hugged me to his side.
We went into another room where we arranged the chairs in a semicircle, giving me some space to perform. I worked like a zombie, brain not connected to any kind of rational thought, working purely on instinct and his directions. Somehow he found plenty of opportunity to touch me, which I didn't reflect on at the time, but on the other hand didn't feel unpleasant either. After the setup, we were both rather sweaty — as I said, it was an exceptionally hot day and we had moved quite a bit of furniture too.
"Goodness," Logan said as he caught sight of the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "We'd better get a shower, the guests will be here in no time."
"OK," I said. "Do you want me to go first?"
Logan made a minor spectacle out of looking at the clock then at me. "I'm afraid we haven't got time for two showers," he said. "We'll have to go in together."
"But," I complained. "Is that right?"
"Yeah, not a problem," he said. "Haven't you ever seen your dad without clothes?"
"Y-e-s," I said drawn out. "But that's not the same, he's my dad."
"You know what," Logan said with a disarming smile. "I don't look any different, so what's the problem?" He winked. "And if you want to be ready for your audience, you'd better get going." He put an arm around my sweaty body and drew me gently towards the bathroom.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
In the bathroom, we quickly undressed and then I realised that he
was rather different from my dad. His penis was probably twice as big as my dad's. It was substantially longer and looked extremely thick too. When he saw me naked, it started to rise and before long he was completely hard, making it even bigger looking. And he didn't have a single hair around his dick either as opposed to the bush around my dad's.
"Why are you stiff?" I asked.
"That's because you look so good," he said. "Come on, let's get into the shower."
He started the shower and as in a dream I followed him in.
"I'll wash you, then you can wash me," he said and soaped up a flannel with shower gel.
He quickly washed my chest, back and arms, then he asked me to raise my legs, one after the other, so he could wash those, leaving my crotch area for the last. I too was hard, sort of. I didn't know exactly why, as it didn't feel like one of those random erections you get as a child, it was more directed and I only had a vague idea of the reason.
"You know it is important to keep your cock clean?" he said.
"Cock?" I asked. "What's that?"
"This one," he said and grabbed it with the soapy flannel. "Your willie."
"Oh," I said. "Yes."
"Good," he said and started to "wash" it. Wash in quotation marks as he — without me knowing it for lack of experience — was really masturbating me with the wet flannel.
It felt good.
After a few minutes where I was enjoying this with closed eyes, I had this overwhelming feeling of breathlessness and contentedness as I came for the first time in my life.
"What was that?" I croaked.
"That was just a feel-good feeling," Logan said as if it explained everything. It obviously didn't, but to me it sounded quite logical and I let it go without a further thought. "Now it's your turn to wash me."
I took the flannel and put some more shower gel on it. He bent down and I washed his chest and back while staring at his erection that touched me now and again. He straightened up and his erection was pointing straight at my face. I kneeled and washed his legs and feet before stretching up again to do the last bit.
His penis.
"Yes, Barry," Logan said in a breathless voice. "Please wash my cock really well. Just like I did yours."
Without further ado I wrapped the flannel around his erection as best I could. It was much too thick for one of my hands but the two of them managed. Just. Before long he started to moan and suddenly he covered my face and chest in white sperm. I was so surprised that I more or less froze, which gave him plenty of opportunity to cover me well, before he sank to the floor of the shower stall.
"What was that?" I said at last. "It doesn't look like wee."
"No," he gasped form the floor. "It was just
my feel-good feeling. You made me feel so good that I covered you in my feel-good stuff."
Those were the days of limited sexual knowledge and enlightenment, and I had heard nothing about the bees and the flowers. Even less about human replication so Logan could basically tell me whatever he wanted to, I didn't know any better.
He managed to stagger back up and used the shower to quickly wash off the sperm. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and said, "That's yours and my secret, isn't it Barry?" He looked at me seriously. "If you don't tell anyone, I'm sure we can find a way to do it again. Would you like that?"
I nodded timidly, unable to say anything as my feelings were in absolute turmoil. On one hand I had an instinctive feeling that this was wrong, wrong, wrong! On the other hand I really liked the feel-good feeling and it was somehow awesome to see him shoot the white stuff from his oversized penis.
"Good," he said. "Let's get ready for the guests."
We got dressed and just as I had tied the bow-tie of my suit, the first guest arrived. Dad. He asked me if I was ready for the show and I confirmed, showing him the room with the chairs. The other guests arrived and I breezed through the show to critical acclaim.
After the show, Logan took dad aside and said, "Is it alright for Barry to stay here to help me put the chairs away?"
"Of course it is," dad said. "But let me give you a hand, then he can come with me afterwards."
"Maybe it's better if he helps me on his own." Logan smiled at dad. "You see, I have promised him a reward if he does."
"Oh, OK," dad said. "When do you want me to pick him up then?"
"Don't worry. I'll deliver him to the door."
Dad looked at me. "Is that alright with you?" he asked.
"Yeah, great," I said and gave him a quick hug. "I'll be back soon."
Dad left and Logan looked at me. "How if we clear the chairs away in the buff?"
I giggled. "You mean without any clothes on?"
He giggled back. "Yeah. Just that!"
I giggled again and undressed completely in no time flat.
"That's the spirit," he said and undressed too.
We were both hard.
We cleared the chairs away and restored the room to its previous glory before going for the bath room once more. Just outside the bathroom, he said, "Can I show you something else?" he asked. "Another way to give you the feel-good feeling?"
"What?"
"In here," he said and directed me to his bedroom. "On the bed." He patted the bed with a hand. "Try to lie down on your back with your legs over the side."
I did as he said and when I lay there with my little erection poking out in the air, I got another surprise.
He kneeled between my legs and took my erection in his mouth.
"But Logan," I said. "That's — not right!"
He let go for a short second to reply. "It's OK. It really is. Just lie down and enjoy the feel-good feeling."
I wasn't quite convinced but didn't feel strongly enough against it to complain further. I lay there and received my first blow job. From an adult.
Wow!
It felt absolutely incredibly pleasant. It was like my penis had been designed just for the purpose of being stimulated by his mouth. I rose my hips when the feel-good feeling got almost unbearable and he used the opportunity to press a finger against my bum. It was a strange feeling. A mixed feeling. On one hand it felt somewhat wrong. Slightly unpleasant. On the other hand it added to the building feel-good feeling in the rest of my body from his expert administrations by his mouth.
I came.
And his finger penetrated my bumhole.
I came again.
And he moved his finger in and out of my bum.
And then it suddenly became very unpleasant. Logan must have felt that for he removed his finger immediately before I had voiced the complaint and hugged me tight.
"Do you think you could do that to me too?" he asked, looking at me with pleading eyes.
"With a finger in your bum too?" I asked innocently.
"Oh God, yes!" he moaned and I have this suspicion that he only managed to hold an orgasm back by a huge application of will-power. "That would be great."
He lay back on the bed and I straddled his legs to better get access to his willie. I bent down and started to lick the head of his penis. I thought it would taste like wee, but it had a much more complicated taste that didn't really have a wee element to it. At least not one I could taste. I couldn't really do anything other than licking and holding the head in my mouth, as his erection was much too large for my untrained mouth. As I did the licking, I tentatively pushed a finger against his bum. He moaned and lifted his pelvis towards my mouth. When the finger went completely in, he groaned from delight.
"Try some more fingers," he said.
I tried first one, the another and in the end buried my whole hand inside his bum.
"I'm in Heaven," he moaned as my whole hand entered him. When I found something like a bump just inside his bum and pressed against it, he began to shoot wildly, totally flushing my mouth so I had to let him out, getting sperm all over my hair and face. I had never tasted anything like it before and thought it would probably been almost fine, had it been slightly more salty. "Whoa!" he gasped. "That was the sexiest experience ever!" He reached back and pulled my hand out of his bum, leaving his hole wide open, slowly closing up.
I looked at my hand and was surprised that it wasn't full of poo.
Logan turned around and kissed me on the mouth. "You are the most incredible magician I've ever known — in and out of bed! I just love the way you look and what you do to me."
Not until much later did I realise that he didn't actually say that he loved me.
I was in love!
He hugged me again and I hugged him back. Rocking back and forth, we both got hard again and this time he went for a sixty-nine. He could take all of my diminutive pecker into his mouth without any problems, obviously, while I had more trouble taking his. At the beginning I suffered a lot of gagging, but I started to get the hang of it and after some time I actually had about half of his big dick inside my mouth, sucking like there was no tomorrow — which for all I knew at the time, there may not have been.
He sucked.
I sucked.
We sucked.
We could hardly lie still and began to hump each other's mouth until hit by a blessed bliss — we came together and I managed to swallow most of his sperm, liking it better this time.
"Goodness boy," he gasped while breathing heavily after his orgasm. "You're going to kill me if you keep going on like this." He grinned. "But then I'd be in heaven, so who cares?"
He moved me on top of him and we caressed leisurely while kissing lovingly. That evening I learned how to French kiss and I loved it.
Logan looked at his watch. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "We'd better get going, it's really late. Come on." He got us out of the bed and steered us to the bathroom. "Let's shower." We had a quick shower and got dressed in no time. "Let's go now," he said and lifted me up in his arms. "I hope you liked it." He went towards the front door as I nodded timidly.
It had been the best day of my entire life and my whole mind was filled with Logan.
He kept caressing me all the time while driving me home and kissed me deeply and lovingly before we got out of the car. When Dad opened the door, Logan smiled and said, "Sorry to be late, but we had to shower before setting off."
Dad looked at my happy face and smiled back at Logan. "No problem, it's the weekend after all."
Logan put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Thank you for today, Barry. It has been the best birthday I could ever imagine — and that's all due to you. I'll see if I can get some more jobs." He pulled his purse out of his back pocket. "Here's your pay with an extra bonus." He counted out two hundred quid.
I looked at the money. Then I looked at Logan. Then at Dad, who smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Logan," Dad said.
"Thank you," I croaked as I took the money. "I had a nice day too." I blushed deeply.
Dad smiled. "It's not often you see Barry blush," he said.
"Honestly," Logan said with a heart-melting smile. "It was lovely to have him around — and I will try to arrange some magic performances for my friends." He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll be his manager and try to keep him occupied. Idle hands and such, you know."
Dad laughed. "Yeah, I think it'll be perfect for his self-confidence."
"I'll see what I can do," Logan said and pinched my bum without Dad seeing it. "I'll call as soon as I know more."
"OK," Dad said. "See you then."
"Bye," I croaked, unable to say anything coherent.
Logan
did manage to arrange performance after performance and it soon became a set pattern that he would pick me up early Saturday morning and then we would drive to his place where we would have hot sex for an hour or two before driving out for the next performance. I would perform somewhere and then we would drive back to his place for another hot session in bed before showering and returning me home.
The third or the fourth time at his place, I don't remember which, we went to the next level. Until then it had been masturbation and fellatio, often with my hand — if not half my arm — buried in his bum. I know it sounds gross, but in the heat of the moment it was extremely exciting. He had invested in a huge tube of lube and had gone from one finger to four in my bum. It didn't feel too nice to begin with but after a few sessions, it was part of the play and before long it felt good. Really good.
Well, on this day, after the performance, Logan had lubed my bum well and asked me if I felt in the mood for something new. I was still so absolutely infatuated with the man that I would have jumped in front of a train for him, had he asked for it. Luckily, he didn't. I nodded to his request and he gently laid me down in his bed and started to trail kisses from my toes and up my legs until he reached my pelvis. He skipped my rock-hard erection and kissed his way up my flat belly until he reached my mouth. I was so hot now that I almost tried to eat him. He responded in kind and while we were French kissing, he slowly pushed his erection into my well-greased bum. The feeling heightened my arousal and without any discomfort, he suddenly slammed his pelvis against my bum, buried to the hilt inside me.
"Oh God," he droned. "I've wanted this since the first time I saw you. You have the most amazing body a man could wish to fuck." He kissed me again and slammed in and out a little faster. "I don't know how anybody can resist you and I'm almost jealous of you when you're not here." He gave a nervous laugh. "I know it's silly and that you wouldn't be with anybody else, but that's what you do to me." He started to breathe heavily as he came nearer to climaxing. "Oh God, what a feeling."
Suddenly I came and my bum contracted around his thrusting erection.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Logan exclaimed as he started to hose my intestines with his hot sperm. "You're milking my cock. That's a hell of a nice feeling. You're the best fuck ever!"
The sperm squished out of my distended bum with each of his thrusts and I felt like in a completely different world, I was so aroused.
When he at last stopped hosing me, he almost fell on top of me and held me so tight, I could hardly breathe.
"Barry, Barry, Barry!" he moaned. "I'll never forget this evening. Never, ever!"
"Me either," I moaned and gasped for air. "I didn't know I could get the feel-good feeling just from your willie in my bum."
"God no," he groaned. "I didn't know that either, but it seems to work quite fine for both of us." He caressed my face. "You look almost divine," he said. "You're such a beautiful boy." He cleared his throat and continued in a whisper, "Please, please, please! Never grow up. Just stay as you are!"
I remembered those words so clearly and vowed never to grow up. I would forever be Logan's little boy.
But nature has a way of getting its own and I did grow up.
We kept going on an almost weekly basis, year in and year out for the next three and a half years, and I was starting to feel rich with more than thirty thousand in the bank.
Just after my eleventh birthday, we lay next to each other, well satiated after a long session in bed.
"Your cock has grown a lot since last week, it seems," Logan said with a strange smile.
I can't really say why, but I got a feeling that it was something like a slight regret. That growing up was not good.
I swore to myself that I would stay forever like I was right then — but nature has its own cruel way, and as you can see, I
did grow up.
Over the following weeks my performances grew fewer, which I attributed to the extra schoolwork I was doing getting myself ready for the new school.
Then one Saturday morning, when I was due for a performance, Logan picked me up and hurried me to the venue. "I'll have to leave you alone today. I have become a manager for a singer too, you see, and I have to get him to a venue some hundred miles away." I looked at him, feeling totally lost, which he must have seen. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you're finished. And Harry will help you set up the scene and such."
"But..." I started.
"You'll be fine." He patted my leg. "Don't worry."
And I
was fine, although I did the performance rather absentmindedly. I had done magic so many years now that I could do it without really engaging.
Logan was as good as his word and returned just after the performance. When I saw him, he was followed by a beautiful, six-year-old, black boy. They walked in hand in hand and my mind seemed to stop functioning.
"Hello Barry," Logan said. "Meet Michael, the most gifted singer I have ever met."
"Hi Barry," Michael said. "I saw your performance a few weeks ago. I loved it."
"Hi," I said in a sulky voice.
We went back to Logan's place and much to my surprise, they both stripped naked and looked expectantly at me. My mind was a total mess. I didn't want to share Logan with anybody. He was mine.
Mine.
Only he wasn't.
I felt trapped. I wanted to be with Logan. I wanted to feel his erection inside me. I wanted to drink his sperm. I wanted to bury my arm in his bum.
But I didn't want to do it with Michael.
I wanted the world to return to its old order, containing Logan and me. No Michael. Just Logan and me!
Too late.
While I reluctantly undressed, Michael had bent down and was actively giving head to Logan. After going in and out a couple of times, Michael deep-throated him, his lips touching Logan's pelvis. A feat I had never mastered, despite giving head at every possible opportunity.
"I love you, Michael," Logan groaned. "You're the best."
That made me feel really low. Logan had never said that he loved me. He had said he loved my body or what I did to him, but not that he "
loved me". On top of that, he had just declared Michael the best. It wasn't meant maliciously, I know. It was just something he said in the heat of the moment, but it hit me all the same.
Logan looked at me. "Why don't you give Michael a blow job?" he asked when I had finished undressing. "He looks like he needs it."
'Yeah,' I thought. 'What about me?' But I didn't say anything, I just lay down on the floor and took Michaels black, little, hard pecker into my mouth, and felt the baby-smooth skin on my lips, swirling my tongue around this tiny perfection. While I gave head to Michael, I had to masturbate. I mean, nobody else was looking after my cravings.
We worked hard and as Logan's groaning grew louder, I was surprised to feel really excited. Suddenly, without warning, I came. I actually ejaculated for the first time. It wasn't a lot sperm, but it was there. And it was hard enough to hit my belly button. As I came, Michael started to shake and had a dry orgasm, immediately followed by Logan, who hosed the little boy — and the little boy drank every drop to the last without spilling. He withdrew and licked his mouth in a very sexy way.
Logan dropped to his knees and embraced and kissed Michael. "Oh God, Michael, you're so good! I love you so much."
I
so felt like the third wheel of a gig.
After that, Logan lifted Michael up and placed him on his bed. He pushed the boy's legs up and quickly greased his bum, ready to mount him. As he entered the boy, Logan had me sit next to Michael's head so he could give me a blow job while being buggered by Logan.
And was Michael good. Oh boy, he was far better than Logan. It felt like his tongue could twist itself round my hard-on. And he knew just where and when to touch me to enhance the feeling to its best.
When we all came at the same time again, I knew that I could never compete with Michael.
I endured the rest of the evening until we all had a shower and got dressed. Logan could feel something was wrong, but I don't think he quite knew the extent of my feelings. He tried to engage in conversation on the way home and even got so far as to say that just because he was working as agent for another boy meant that he felt less for me than before.
And that was exactly the problem.
He didn't feel less for me, but when I saw how much he felt for Michael, I realised how little he
really felt for me in comparison.
When we reached my home, I told him that I had a lot of school work to do and that I thought he should concentrate on Michael and get him going. Logan could feel that I was cross with him, but no matter what he said, I didn't budge.
I went in, put a brave face to my parents, saying I was tired, and went to bed. Crying my eyes out.
I had lost Logan.
I was miserable during the following weeks and buried myself in the schoolwork. When Mum or Dad asked me whether I had another performance, I said no, I wanted to concentrate on my schoolwork. They shrugged, knowing well that I hid something but unable to dig it out of me. There was no way I would talk about the sexual relationship with Logan — I loved him much too much for that.
Then one day I saw him on telly. Michael. He and his brothers had made it big and Michael was the talented child prodigy that stole the limelight. He was so beautiful it hurt me. Almost physically. I saw the whole program from beginning to end, fascinated and repulsed at the same time. And I knew Logan was somewhere behind the scenes, just outside the picture, but very much
there!
That night I slashed both my wrists.
I waited until my parents had gone to sleep before I went into the bathtub. I didn't want my parents to have too much trouble cleaning up afterwards, you see. I picked my dad's best butcher's knife, the one he used for the turkey and the roast dinner. The one he proudly kept sharp as a Samurai's sword. I sat down, quite calmly, now my mind was made up, and slashed both my wrists. Amazingly, it didn't hurt very much and before long I slid into unconsciousness and well — died.
Almost.
Somehow my Mum got worried during the night and despite normally sleeping like a log, she went into the bathroom and found me. After some screaming and much hubbub, which I was totally unaware of, they got me into hospital — just in the nick of time.
I saw a psychologist for years after that and was provisionally declared 'cured' in the end. At no point did I tell anybody about Logan or Michael or anything to do with our relationship, so nobody understood why I slit my wrists — especially not since I did well in school and seemed to be successful anywhere where it mattered for an eleven-year-old.
Had they known — Had they only known ...
Well, no reason to cry over spilt milk.
I started university shortly after I turned sixteen. At Uni I got seriously screwed up. Figuratively and literally. Somehow I couldn't get my head around my sexuality. I did not at all feel right in my body and yet I saw no way out of it, 'sexual reorientation' was not invented as a term yet. So I lived and let live, dying a little with every screw I got. I got screwed by all the gay students — and quite a few of the straight. And at least half of the lecturers.
Then I realised I could turn a mint doing it and suddenly I was the most expensive experience in town ... and probably the biggest tourist attraction too. I was dead inside so what did I care?
And I could follow Michael and his brothers through the whole period. I kept following Michael when he went solo. By following him I followed Logan. He was never visible, but was behind the scenes. The stories I heard — I tell you! ... Rather I won't. When Michael became too old for Logan's tastes, Logan became his pimp, the one to deliver fresh young meat for both to consume. It was incredible how Michael managed to mostly keep this secret until his death. I only knew because a lot of people tell stuff when they are intimate with somebody else. And was I told!
When I was twenty-five, I went for a trip to Thailand and met the most beautiful ladyboy there. Jaidee was the first transgender person I had ever met. She was beautiful, not like the younger Michael, but in a semi-classical way. We got together and surprisingly, at least to me, she liked to fuck guys and for the next week I was royally filled by her fourteen hard inches so many times a day that I had to wear a pad in my underpants to hold back the leaking.
Sorry, too many details, I know. Sorry.
But all the same, by and by she told me about her operation and this guy she knew who could do it. I was all ears. That, I realised, was just what I wanted. I was a girl inside. Really. Who cares whatever body you are born in, what matters is what's inside your head. I was all fire without the brimstone. I was ready and within a day I was taken to this shady place where I met a big guy with huge hands. He presented himself as Dr. Brandakar. He talked about the procedure and showed me a picture album of previous operations.
Had I only known.
We made an arrangement a week hence and I got the money transferred from my bank back home.
Pardon my crying but this is rather hard for me to talk about and I haven't told anybody the whole story before.
On the day I met the guy at the same shady place. I was shown into a nice, white room with a big bed where a little man in a spotless green frock injected me with an anaesthetic.
When I woke up, I looked into Brandakar's face. The butcher, yeah, Brandakar was a butcher in real life, had an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry," he said. "When it came to that, I couldn't get myself to cut it off."
"What are you saying," I said groggily.
"Well," he said. "You'll find out in a few days."
He left me and a young girl, Jaidee's sister I learned, looked after me until I had recovered sufficiently to have the bandages removed. He was a butcher. He had put silicone into my breasts, but they were not symmetrically placed. The scars below my newly created breasts were slightly infected, several inches long and very uneven.
And worst of all: He had cut off my testicles but left my penis. I was castrated. But I wasn't rebuilt. I cried a lot those days. I never saw Brandakar again. Not Jaidee either.
I was so embarrassed that I didn't return home. I began to make a living in Thailand by pimping the ladyboys, who were aplenty in Bangkok, to pleasure-seeking tourists with such tastes. Now and again, one of the "boys" would fuck me, mostly as a show of respect, oddly enough. But my sex-drive was gone.
I was neither man nor woman.
Well, more woman than man, really. That brain thing again: I felt like a woman and defined myself as such.
I lived in Thailand for many years, until I was "discovered" by a professor from home. He was there on a perfectly ordinary holiday with his wife, when we accidentally met at the market. We started to talk and when he realised I was a fellow countryman, he got interested.
We talked at length and I met his wife and their two children, who accepted me more readily than I had expected.
After the better part of a week, the professor realised that I was homesick and offered me a position at his university. He needed a good lecturer for an advanced computer science course and felt I could cut the cheese, as he said.
I promised to fly back home in two weeks, giving me time to wind down my booming business and get my stuff together in a small container.
I moved back and was easily accepted as a University lecturer. It took some time to get my status as a woman accepted by the authorities, but one day it was official. I was a woman!
I retired a few years ago and moved into my flat and when Anastasia moved in, she somehow lured me out of my shell and I became the surrogate grandmother.
What can I say? It has been a very turbulent ride, but in the end I do not really regret anything. I loved Logan, but it was doomed from the start since he didn't love me. I'm not in the least angry with Logan. If
he hadn't been my first, somebody less gentle may have found me and made my life a hell. I don't envy Michael either. He was famous, but what good did it do him in the end? Dead from a mix of painkillers. What an awful way to go!
And Jaidee and Brandakar? They are probably the people I like the least. They were very duplicitous and butchered me for a few hundred thousand baths. I
do resent that, but I don't hate them. They too have made me what I am today and I might not have met you two beautiful guys and India and Zeline, had it not been for my stupidity and thus my Thai experience.
I love you people. Really! So there you are: The story of my life.
I was crying and so was Anastasia. "I feel so sorry for you," I sobbed. "Nobody should go through what you went through."
Beryl held up her hands to fend this idea off. "Don't say that," she said. "As they say: '
Per aspera ad astra'. It is only through adversity you get really strong. And believe me, I'm one tough cookie." She smiled.
Anastasia sniffled. "But all the same..."
"Stop, stop!" Beryl cried. "I didn't tell you the story to get your sympathy. That would be totally misplaced. I'm actually happy these days and look forward to seeing you all on a regular basis. How on earth would that have happened, had I not gone through my ordeal?"
"I know," Anastasia croaked. "It's just..."
"
Stop!" Beryl shook her head vehemently. "
Do not be sorry! Period!"
"OK, OK!" I said and realised that despite my dick being soft, it was still lodged inside Anastasia. There are benefits of having a long dick after all.
"Why are you crying?" India asked as she scratched her bare bum. "Is somebody ill?"
"No, it's only that Auntie Beryl told us a sad story."
"It
wasn't sad!" Beryl said. "At least it has a happy ending." She scooped India up and sat her in her lap. "And you, Chocolate Cake, should be in your bed and sleep."
"But I need the toilet."
"Alright," Beryl said and slid India down on the floor. "Scoot to the toilet then."
"3 ... 2 ... 1" Anastasia counted down. "I knew it."
"What are you crying for?" Zeline rubbed her eyes. "Has somebody taken your toys?"
We laughed.
"No, Creamcake, we're fine. You need the toilet, right?" Zeline nodded. "India is already out there, but she'll be finished in no time."
"'K"
I looked after my naked daughter as she walked quite unselfconsciously to the toilet and I realised we were quite a happy and lucky family.
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