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Nifty - Transgender - Control - The Dogging Diaries

 
Date: Wed, 17 Oct 2012 10:27:07 -0400
From: AJ Moore <aj.justthisonce@gmail.com>
Subject: The Dogging Diaries

Praise for The Dogging Diaries:


"The most erotic and disturbing chronicle I have ever read."

"An unflinching look into the life of a very dirty tgirl."

"Rarely does a tale this decadent get told."

"Gets to the very core of submission."

"Brilliantly written."


Author's Note: What you are about to read is real. I have the scars to
prove it.


The Dogging Diaries

Diary Entry: July, 2009

"Guys, guys, guys! Settle down. This girl will open her legs for the
whole room. As long as you're treating her well and keeping her as the
center of attention, she's yours to do with as you please. Just make sure
you don't treat her too well."

The room laughed.

"You can fuck her, cum on her, cum in her, slap her, spank her, she's
fucking hot and she will go all night if you can."

I could hear Ryan getting the crowd of guys ready to do me as I listened
through the closed bathroom door. The room sounded full. I'd be filled
with hard, heaving cocks within ten minutes. I picked up the short straw
with my French cut nails and proceeded to finish the lines of cocaine Ryan
had chopped out for me earlier.

"Now I took all of your opinions into consideration when I dressed her and
I think you're going to like the way she looks."

I checked myself in the mirror and casually wiped away a flake of coke from
my nose. My auburn hair was teased to porn star extremes, while my eyes
were blackened with kohl liner and smoky, purple, grey and white shadow.
My lips were fat and plum. I was wearing 6" spiked heels, clear, with
ankle straps around red painted toes and black fence net thigh highs. My
silver miniskirt was only 4" long, exposing my black g-string panties and
my wide, fuckable hips. My matching silver micro bikini top barely covered
the erect nipples on my surgically enhanced DD tits. My midriff was bare,
tanned, toned, tapering to my 26" waist. Glitter covered me. I was pure
shemale sex.

"So let me bring her out boys."

The room cheered and Ryan opened the bathroom door, stepped inside and said
to me: There's 19 out there. Then he dumped another cluster of cocaine
onto the counter and began preparing two more lines.

I began doing the math in my head. Nineteen cocks at roughly 10 minutes a
cum - if each guy wanted to pop twice I was going to be fucked good and
hard for the next seven hours.

I picked up the straw again and put it to my nose, doing one line with my
left nostril and the other with my right. I sniffed hard to get it all into
my system and then looked at Ryan as a dog would her master.

"Don't worry hon, there's plenty more," he said. "But you're going to have
to work for it. You ready?"

I retouched my makeup around my nose and then added more glitter to my
lips, hair and body. Then I nodded and he opened the door.

"Boys, I give you the dirtiest fucking slut you have ever laid eyes on -
Kristy!"

The room erupted in cheers as a hard rock song began to play on a portable
player. I checked my face again and stepped out into the room a bitch in
heat ...

End Diary Entry

Upon Meeting Me OR The Introduction

I am a whore and my name is Kristy. What I am comes before my name because
what I am defines me and defines what you are about to read. I'm holding
in my hand a series of diaries that I've kept for the last several years.
I haven't read them in a while and as I flip through, I see it captures my
journey perfectly. From the physical extremes I have pushed myself to so I
could be beautiful, desired and admired, to the sexual limits I broke
through to participate in the bizarre and erotic world of dogging - gang
bangs and marathon fuck fests with anonymous strangers. It's an orgy, but
I'm the only girl, a shemale whore so cock and cum crazy that I would do
anything to get my fix.

I don't mind the term "shemale" - I've been called much worse. I am also
33 years old now, old enough to reflect on the life I have lived to this
point and the journey I have taken to arrive at this level of whoredom. I
am happy. I have no regrets. What you will soon read are extremely real
accounts of how I came to be what I am today. They are extremely graphic
in nature. Not all of it is pretty and not all of it is dirty. However I
will warn you, there is a lot of filth here and it does not wash clean.

I will skip the vast majority of my childhood; although I will point out
that my journey to Kristy and finally to my formal name change of Alexandra
is different from many of the other tgirls I have encountered. I was not a
slight boy, not shy nor sickly. I was just a kid, into games and my
imagination and doing well in school. I was decent looking, a little husky
as a little guy, but not fat. Just a kid with some freckles, some Hot
Wheels and a He-Man action figure. My sister, five years older than I,
made the move from tomboy to young adult lady when she was 16 or 17. I was
12. She had panties and pantyhose and I tried them on because it seemed
like they were calling to me. My penis grew when I did. I tried her skirt
on too. It made me harder than I could ever have imagined. I was young
and didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was exciting and sexual. I
did this three times in the course of three weeks. The fourth time I
dressed, my mother caught me. She wasn't happy or mad, she simply asked
why. All I could tell her was what I was feeling inside - "I wanted to
know what I would look like as a lady." That was good enough for her. I
was 12. No big deal.

But, those feelings never really went away. Not that I thought about it
much, since I had moved on to other games, other toys or whatever. Maybe
the Atari and Missile Command or something. But I know they never
completely went away because when I was 15 my neighbor and I started buying
Playboys and Hustlers at a convenience store that was kind enough to sell
them to underage kids and when I looked at them I 1) became turned on and
2) wanted to be the girl. I didn't want the girl, I wanted to be her. I
wanted to be wanted and I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to feel the same
desire from men that I felt for her.

I thought about transitioning or going on this journey throughout my late
teenage years and throughout college, although I never did anything about
it until I was 23 years old. When I said a few paragraphs back that I have
no regrets, I lied. I regret not accepting my feelings until I was 23. I
think of the 7 to 10 years I could have had as Kristy that were lost.
Maybe I'm still making up for lost time.

It was late 2002. The internet had been born. There were others like me
who had the same feelings about women. They wanted to be one too. I spoke
to the community regularly, trying to understand my feelings and what to do
about them. I was paralyzed for a time. Unsure. And then one day I
plunged right in. I became Kristy in one day. In one day I shaved my body
from head to toe, I trimmed and sculpted my eyebrows. I spent about a
grand on skirts and dresses and blouses and breast forms and cinchers and
shoes and jewelry and makeup. At 8 in the morning I had crawled out of bed
as Stephen and by 8 that night I was Kristy, wobbling my way to a Boston
T-friendly bar on 3" heels.

I began keeping a journal the very next day and did so loyally for the next
seven years. As I flip through, I see there's a lot of "fucks" and "cocks"
in these pages. I'll be getting to all of that shortly. First, here's an
excerpt from my very first entry:

Diary Entry: December 2002

As I said, the club is dark. The ladies room - I can't believe I am
writing that, I can't believe I was in there - is not exactly nice in the
least, but it's a ladies room and I am a lady and that is what we do
... coming back, I could feel the eyes on me. I was fresh meat. I could
barely walk in my heels - my heels! - and tried to not topple over.

End Diary Entry

I was so naïve back then. I was also hooked on Kristy. I went out to
the club for seven straight days. I met some people. I made some friends.
I wanted more. I never wanted to be a cross-dresser (not that I have
anything against it). I wanted to be a shemale or tgirl - for life - very
quickly.

But I was not-not-not into guys-guys-guys. I still found women so
incredibly attractive. I wanted to be like them and be desired by men, but
... guys were, well guys and girls were soft and sexy.

Diary Entry: May 2003

I went to a party that a couple of tgirls were having in [name of town
deleted to protect the guilty]. At some point, the sex started. Not me,
obviously, but Tara, one of the hosts. She got absolutely railed by some
dude about two feet from where I was sitting. She seemed to be enjoying
it, although I think I'm all set with sex with guys. I'm just not feeling
it. That girl could party though, bless her. Still, not my speed, I could
definitely tell she was still a guy by the way she walked and talked.
Nothing against her, but either do it right or don't do it at all. I
suppose that's harsh. I still suck at this. Being a woman is h-a-r-d.

End Diary Entry

I continued on my path searching for tgirl acceptance. I made some more
friends. I went to more parties. Boys hit on me. I resisted. I let a
few take some pictures of me. I worked on my voice, I worked on my walk, I
worked on my way. I could definitely flirt, especially if I was at the bar
and there were drinks to be purchased. I knew just when to smile, to touch
an arm, to rest my hand on a thigh. These boys wanted to take my flower (I
supposed), they wanted to put their cock in my mouth. I just went home. I
was still into girls.

And that was basically it. For a while anyway. I'd go out with my
t-friends, we'd have a blast and I'd go home. Some of them were getting
into sex with guys. I was still the demure type. But I began thinking
about having sex with men at some time in mid-2003. My friends were open
about it. They were doing it. It just started to feel and look right. I
had lost more weight and was down to 145 or so. At just under 5'9", I was
looking good (or so I thought at the time) and showing a little more skin.
And then, well ...

I drifted. Drift is the premise that a tgirl, in all her glamorous glory
will, over time, drift towards a sexual encounter with a man as a result of
her growing femininity. This is because as the feminine feelings increase,
the need for a penis as a means to completing the full feminine puzzle
increases as well. I believe drift exists. I drifted. I saw plenty of
others drift as well. We all did. I had lots of friends and every single
one of them drifted. Some went all the way, some just dabbled, but all of
them moved towards guy/tgirl sex over time. Was it the vodka tonics?

Diary Entry: February 2004

I think it is just lovely that I do not remember his name. I am sitting
here and I cannot for the life of me think of his name. I can't believe I
am writing this, but he was hot. A guy was hot. And nice. And French.
And certainly many of the others wanted him and yet I, the virgin, the
virgin vixen, was who he chose.

We left the club around midnight. He was staying at the Radisson across
the street. I know for a fact I walked better than I ever had getting over
there. That black skirt just seems to keep everything on display and top
of mind. Into his room. He kissed me. I kissed him back. Open mouth
too. He felt my breasts through my blouse.

"They're not real," I said.

"I don't care," he replied.

He took my blouse off. I reached for his belt buckle. He slid my skirt
down. Then my hose. I was standing in front of him in my panties and bra
and cincher. I could feel him looking at me. He sat me down on the bed.
His open pants were at eye level. I reached in and touched the first cock
in my life that was not my own. It was warm and the skin was soft, but
underneath it was hard. And it was larger than mine.

I took it in my mouth and explored it with my tongue. I had seen enough
porno blow jobs to know what I should do. I was ready. His dick was firm
in my mouth. I loved the feeling.

Eventually he pulled out of my mouth and kissed me. Then he eased me down
on the bed and slid my panties down. My "clit" was exposed. I loved it.
Then he rolled me over. I offered my virginity to him. He didn't know,
but I did. I wanted him. He wanted me. He found me desirable and wanted
to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me. I felt some lube on my "pussy" and
wonder still if he was planning this hook up all along. What guy travels
with lube? Someone who plans on fucking some shemale ass is who. He
greased me and I assume himself. Then he pushed into me. I bore down and
begged him to go slow. He did. I wish I had more to drink, which is
amazing because I know I was hammered. Anything to take the edge off his
7" prick that felt like it was splitting me in two.

When Stacy Hamilton loses her virginity to Ron Johnson, Audio Consultant,
in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, she confesses to her friend Linda the next
day that it "hurt so bad." Amen Stacy. It fucking killed. But he came
inside me. I feel like such a slut. Still do. And I like it. I will get
better at this.

End Diary Entry

Looking at my diary, all I can do is laugh at myself. It's so innocent,
almost clinical. The funny thing is, I actually went about 4 months before
having another encounter after that one. I find that amazing because as I
re-read my recaps through that time I was clearly hooked on "the cock" once
this happened. All it took was one time. It's like crack or something.

The Pharmacy OR These Are Tit Pills

Hormones, the great dividing line for all tgirls. You either take them or
you don't. I started taking them when I was 24, purchased from an online
pharmacy. I had-had-had to have them. I wasn't interested in anything but
looking and feeling as feminine as I could. They took some time to do
their thing, their damn sweet time, and it didn't come without some
trepidation. I was worried about frying out my clit. I was worried about
not being able to lose any more weight. I was worried about mood swings.
I was worried about my health. I was worried - for a split second - about
sprouting enormous boobs and developing dangerous curves and then waking
one day to realize I didn't want any of what had happened to my body - that
I wanted to be Stephen again. For a split second. That fear went away
fast and never returned. I was in. All my chips to the center.

Diary Entry: October 2004

When? When? When are you little fuckers going to show yourself? When will
you sprout underneath my nipples? I have no soreness. My skin is not
softer. When?

End Diary Entry

Mind you, the whole time this was going on I was working at a pretty decent
job. I was still doing the Stephen thing and Kristy was a part-time
existence. I was living alone in a little apartment north of the city.
I'd race home from work and Kristy would emerge within seconds. I was
wearing panties to work, so all it took was my cincher, my bra, breast
forms and some face work. Oh, and shoes. I fucking love high heel shoes.
I'd parade around that apartment all night, so vain, so silly, moving from
mirror to mirror in the best seductive manner I could. Want some fries
with that shake?

Diary Entry: January 2005

I must recap the year that was. In short, I have taken the plunge. Sex
with three different boys and one girl last year as Kristy. Hormones that
don't seem to work (sadly). Friends! I have trans friends! People seem
to think I'm fun or funny or nice or whatever. So cool. I think I'm nice
too. Boys seem to find me attractive. I'm definitely a flirt.
Good-good-good dieting. I'm 142 as I start this new year. Getting better!
What will the year bring? I'd like to meet a girlfriend I suppose.
Someone who accepts me for who I am. The straight clubs will hopefully
help with that.

End Diary Entry

Meet a girlfriend? Boy was I way off on that sentiment. I mean, are you
kidding me?

And then, in 2005, I went the wrong way. Looking back now, I definitely
went the wrong way. Let me explain. I had been at this tgirl thing for a
couple of years. I could walk and talk and live. I had had sex and knew
my way around a cock and balls and a man's psyche quite well. I could pass
in some situations. I went to straight restaurants and bars as Kristy. I
shopped. I was basically living full time at this point, albeit that
existence required me to be a very femmy boy at my job. But it had become
obvious to everyone by now. My shape was changing, my face was changing,
everything was changing. I was becoming the new me. I had ventured
outside of the nest, so to speak.

And then I got the crazy idea that hey, I look like a girl and I think like
a girl and I identify as a girl - I should really and truly exist that way,
the way girls really do. Sounds good, right? Wrong. Well not wrong, but
not good for my sex life. I went chick all right, in all my yoga pants and
sweatshirts and jeans and flip-flop glory. I was the girl at the mall who
totally blended because I was dressed down and comfortable. There were no
statements to be made. I wore pants a lot. I covered up. I thought I was
doing myself a favor and honoring my fellow genuine sisters. Sure I still
rocked a pair of heels and a dress from time to time, but I was reveling in
just being a girl. And I was way too critical of other tgirls who were
constantly getting dolled up in some fuck-me outfit because I didn't think
it really reflected womanhood. I partied a little bit, but I took false
pride in talking about how I had chilled out. I could not have been more
wrong.

There is a simple law of physics. For every action, there is an equal
reaction. In certain cases, like mine, the reaction is sudden, jarring,
and almost violent in some ways. My reaction in 2006 was exactly that and
it opened the door to a world I couldn't have comprehended just a few short
months before and would change me forever.

Innocent Beginnings OR That Just Made My Honeypot Buzz

It started simply enough. I had a date with a guy named Harry [not his
real name]. When I say "date," it should not legitimize it. Harry was a
friend of a friend, married, and our dates, when we had them, consisted of
him coming to my apartment with a bottle of wine. We'd chit chat about the
news of the day, about my transition or something else mundane. When the
wine was finished, we'd fool around a little bit and then he would fuck me.
This had happened a few times before. Harry was a good lover with a sizable
dick and, outside of the fact that he would push into me too hard at first,
it was always a decent time and I was glad to be getting a semi-regular
fucking from a nice guy. Mind you, this was the beginning, when my cunt
wasn't as easily accepting of a good sized cock the way it is now.
Thousands of dicks change a girl.

Well, given Harry's married status, it was consistently up in the air as to
whether or not he was going to be able to make it. At that point, I was
just beginning to snap out of what I lovingly refer to as my "dressed-down,
lesbian shemale phase" and really enjoying being a girly-girl and being
comfortable in my skin. For fun, I put an ad on Craigslist to find a rain
check date in case Harry cancelled. I'll let the diary tell the rest ...

Diary Entry: February 2006

My date with Harry wasn't going to come off. Enter Kevin. A lovely name
for a lovely man. With a lovely cock. I met him at my door in a short
black dress and black thigh highs, the dress short enough that the thigh
high tops were visible when I sat and crossed my legs. Black bra/black
g-string/black 4" pumps. My hair was down. My eyes were dark and smoky
with a little bit of glitter on my eyes and brows. Pretty/slutty. I
cannot fucking believe I used to wear jeans and flats. What the fuck was I
thinking?

Kevin was pretty hooked from the get go. We made small talk for a while.
I think he was nervous, me being a tgirl and all. He claimed he had been
with a shemale before, but I'm not buying that. Eventually the wine was
gone and he asked if he could kiss me. I said yes and he gave me a long
drawn out French kiss as I let my body melt into him. We broke the kiss
and I felt him with my hand through his jeans. Divine. I opened his belt
and buttons and he began to feel my breasts as we kissed. I reached into
his undershorts and felt his erection. I knew I had to have it. I pushed
his pants down and dropped to my knees, his cock flaring in front of my
face. Then I parted my lips and took him inside of my mouth, gently
lapping at him with my tongue. Heaven. I let my hands wander up the front
of his thighs and find his balls. They were heavy with cum and I was
delighted by the thought. I moved him back to the couch as he fumbled to
remove his clothes - oh the power a sexual woman has on men - I love it.
He sat on the couch and I resumed my blowjob, licking his balls gently and
stroking his shaft with my hand, my long red talons wrapped around his
stiff member. Then I looked up at him with hungry eyes.

"Do you want to fuck me?" I cooed.

I began to take off my clothes as I continued to suck him, careful to
readjust my breast forms out of his line of sight. I had the lube tucked
away but at the ready and I offered my ass to him as I slid my panties down
my nylon encased legs and stepped out of them. Then I turned my ass to him
and bent slightly, allowing him to see his prize before he fucked it.
Kevin was nice enough to rim me softly before applying grease to my eager
ass-pussy. Then he gently pushed me to the floor - head down, ass up and
entered me. My whole body felt electric. It felt so good to be fucked
again, to feel sexy and wanted again, to feel glamorous again. I needed
it. I needed the ritual of getting ready to get fucked. To slowly select
an outfit, to make sure my lingerie is just right. The ritual of sexiness.
It's back within me.

Kevin began to thrust deeply inside of me as I moved my hips back to meet
him. So perfect and perfectly sized, it didn't take him long to establish
a hard, deep rhythm inside. I could feel his heavy balls slapping against
me as I threw my head back and took the fucking like a good girl should.
He moaned and grabbed for my hips and I knew he was close so I reached my
hand between my legs and pressed his ball sac gently. That was all it
took. He cried out as I felt several heavy streams of cum fill me. I had
satisfied him and he pressed against me and eventually lay on top of me for
a few moments to catch his breath. As we lay there, I felt his shrinking
cock slip out of me. Then he stood and dressed as I kneeled on the floor
with my bottom between my feet, my semi-hard clit exposed for him to see as
a drop of his cum dripped out of my cunt. Then he was gone.

After kissing Kevin goodbye my thoughts turned to cleaning myself up.
That's when the phone rang. Harry. He didn't have to cancel completely as
it turned out. He was running late and a little frantic, but he had a
little time:

"Kristy, honey, I have the wine and I'd love to see you. I don't want to
sound like a jerk, but I only have about 20 minutes if you know what I
mean."

I knew what he meant - Kristy, will you skip the small talk and open your
legs for me?

Of course I will honey. Let me put my panties back on and touch up my
makeup so I can skip the part about just being fucked. And your thick dick
should have no problem slipping inside of me. I'll just say it was my
vibrator. I didn't say that, of course, but I thought it.

Harry was at my place 10 minutes later. We popped the wine, had a few sips
and then he was all over me. We kissed, he took my hands in his and placed
them on his dick through his pants. I stripped off my dress, my bra and my
panties and dropped to my knees to receive his cock in the exact same spot
I had sucked Kevin from 40 minutes earlier. I blew Harry for a couple of
minutes, lovingly worshipping his sensitive glans before I laid him down
naked on the floor and lubed my pussy for show, his erect pole standing at
attention. Then I straddled him, placed his cockhead on my open, cum
filled hole and slid down on it. The whole thought of having two cocks in
one night is mind-blowing to me and it turned me on with a force I've never
felt before. In control and on top, I lightly slapped at his balls as I
worked up and down on his stiff dick, making sure to take all of it to the
hilt as I did so. Harry was clearly ready to go when he got there because
a few minutes later he yelled out and I sat down hard on his shaft and felt
his hot spunk filling me and mixing with Kevin's as the orgasm rocked
through him. Feeling his cock pulsing like that was wonderful.

Then I was off of him and he dressed, leaving me naked, save for my thigh
highs and two dicks worth of cum dribbling from my gaping pussy. He took
another sip of wine, kissed me and was out the door.

End of Diary Entry

Looking back, that was the switch, the sexual lever that started me down
this path. Something had changed. Some reckless embracing of my sexuality
and promiscuity that I didn't (and still don't) fully comprehend. As I
re-read the entry, I laugh at my innocence. Later on I probably would have
taken a few extra minutes to let some of Kevin's cum drizzle from my pussy
into Harry's mouth as my own diabolical way of making him pay for being
late. I certainly wouldn't hold it against him for getting right to the
point and saying, my cock-your ass, right now. That's a good man who says
that.

But I learned a lot on that night. I learned that my ass could take a two
cock pounding. I was always a little worried things would be unclean down
there. As it became more of a regular thing I learned different ways to
ensure cleanliness, but back then this gave me the confidence to not worry
so much. I was barely eating anything anyway. I learned my ass could take
10- 12 thick loads of cum without boiling over - who knew? And I learned
that embracing my sexuality and dressing sexy and not being afraid to do
what feels good is OK - that I didn't have to be a prude to be a woman. I
had fought so hard against the stereotype that transsexuals are just horny
he-shes, that I never considered the fact that I was a horny fucking chick
who craved cock. This was who I was. I had spent the past year fighting
all of that. With every action, there is a reaction and for me, it was the
end of considering girls to be an option. From that night on, I needed a
hard cock like the air that I breathe and my reaction to all of this was to
care less, wear less, suck more and fuck more.

It was around this time that the simpler, shallower emotions of being
Kristy began to give way to erotic stirrings that were of greater
consequence. As I read these entries, some of which are published here, it
becomes clear to me that I was evolving, both as a woman and as a sexual
being. To say things were getting serious doesn't do it justice.

Diary Entry: April 2006

I'm going to try and get some of these emotions down on paper, since
they've been building up inside of me for some time. Things seem rote to
me now. Not in a depressing way, I'm actually feeling really good about
where I'm at. I have a pattern now, a schedule. Before it felt like work
and play were completely separate. I'd go to work as one person and live
other parts of my life as someone else. Now that's changing. I'm Kristy
all the time, even if I don't always look like it. She's me and I'm her
and that's that. I see things through her eyes all the time, whether at
work or at home. And I look like her every second of every day I'm not I
that office.

And the sex ... my god. I love it. I physically need it. I live for it.
I feel like I'm becoming the epitome of a slut. I need sex to make me feel
whole. I love the ritual of getting ready to get fucked. The dressing and
primping of preparing my face, my body, even my clothes. Knowing that by
wearing thigh highs I can simply hike up my skirt, lower my panties and
offer my waiting bottom to a man sends electricity through me. As long as
a man has good hygiene and seems a decent human being he can have me. Just
walking down the street I see a guy and I wish he would take me by the hand
into an alley or into his car and have his way with me. Just take me and
fuck me and cum in me and leave me openly exposed, a run in my stockings
and a dazed look on my face.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: April 2006

Everything seems just so. My apartment couldn't be cleaner. Work is going
well. I could not more hairless if my life depended on it. Tonight I got
home, changed into Kristy - toe to head; 4" silver strappy sandals, my toes
a brilliant red, bare legs looking more toned every day, my silver v-string
from Victoria's, a jean miniskirt, pink tank top that so-so-so accents my
budding breasts (and nipples) and my dark, Lancome eyes and pink perky
lips. I even used a pink bandana to tie my hair back - poured some wine
and cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. Spotless, this apartment of
mine. I even Lemon Pledged the wood. Smells delicious. Then I took a
relaxing bath, my butt plug firmly in place, before draining the water and
showering. In the process I shaved, plucked and pulled every single
solitary hair out of every conceivable place on my body. I was in there so
long the hot water ran out. Now I'm spotless too. Then I moisturized, put
on my robe and watched two hours of Top Model. Heaven.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: May 2006

As I write this I am drunk. Why does that matter? It doesn't. Yet
another Craigslist fling tonight with a semi-delicious man named Charles.
Reality is he looked better in his pictures but they were of him and in
general he was OK. Not the best cock either. The more I think about it
the more I realize Charles kind of sucks. Whatever.

He came over, we had some drinks, he finally kissed me, I took his clothes
off, he took mine off - down to my thigh highs and cincher anyway ... and
proceeded to lick my pussy nice and good. I have to admit, it felt so sexy
to be bent over the arm of the couch in my stockings and high heels,
balanced so delicately on my 5" spikes while an adoring fan lovingly licked
my ass. Suppertime boys. Taste that pussy you fucking whores.

Then he greased my horny, quivering cunt - I SO FUCKING LOVE THAT FEELING -
and slid right into my butt-plug-trained cooze. I took him so easily.
Typical doggie style fuck, me with my head down taking his meat. He gave
me some good strokes, not enough to make me cum, but certainly enough to
give me satisfaction. Then he popped in me and hit the bricks. These boys
keep ordering up a slice of my pie and I keep giving it to them. No one
seems to order a second piece though. Am I ugly?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: June 2006

My new bras and panties came! So excited. Nothing but g-strings and
v-strings for this girl. I'm butt floss all the way all the time. Nice
and tight too, to hold in my clit and keep a butt-pIug pressed into my
bottom. I even got a couple of pairs of panties that say "SEXY" in the
back where my butt meets my hips. Boys, please get in line to take them
off with your teeth. No pushing.

And, I'm now officially a B cup. The A's are snug and these seem better (I
think). Privately I hope they don't stretch. I'd much rather have my
little girls bursting at the small seems of my A bras than swimming in the
deep end of a B. What's a girl to do? I'd like to get a French manicure
for these nails, but I'm not sure what work would say. Decisions.

Yogurt and salad again for dinner tonight. Hello bombshell. I
need-need-need some dick-dick-dick.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: June 2006

Harry was over tonight, giving me his hard, thick cock and fucking me
senseless. He still pushes in too fast but I took it much better this time
- probably because of the plug - and he really did give it to me good. As
I write this, his cum is still trickling out of my bottom. I'm wrecked.
At least, I look a wreck. Total just been fucked look. Still have my 5"
black Pleaser pumps on too. Smeared makeup. Harlot.

Diary Entry: July 2006

Thirty six suits. Bathing suits. That's how many I looked at before
making a decision. I wish-wish-wish I had the uterus to go to the store
and try them on. I don't have that yet. I love to shop too and usually
find it no problem going as Kristy, but I choked on the bathing suit thing
and George's pool party is Saturday. So I ordered a purple one piece - I
fucking hate my body - from Tommy Bahama and that's what I'm going to have
to go with. I hope it fits. I feel like a fat cow. I need a tan, I need
to lose weight, 140 is too fat for me. I need bigger breasts. I see these
girls with their tight fucking waists and their belly rings and I just
want-want-want that so bad.

End Diary Entry

Wow. Hate yourself much? Looking back at some pictures, I wasn't half bad
at all. I really wasn't. And I was already a skilled cocksucker too. I
looked like a girl - nice hair (albeit still a wig), pretty eyes,
tastefully seductive makeup, breasts, I was blessed with hips anyway and I
had and still have incredibly great legs. But there was no telling me that
then. I look better now, but I hadn't gone "all in" on my appearance at
that point. Sure I had the hormones and the B sized boobs, but it wasn't
my own hair, my abs weren't perfectly flat yet, I had no tan, my clothes
still didn't show me off the way they should have ... fuck, I could go on
and on here, which is bad because this probably appears to so vain. You
need to understand. I was reaching a breaking point psychologically where
only one thing mattered - I longed to be sex on two legs.

I also realize I was beyond embryonic at this point. As I read, there's
more and more detail and my entries get longer and/or more frequent. I was
by now officially a hormone chick and although I never had the epiphany of
realizing it until later, at this point I was no longer male. I was a
girl.

Diary Entry: July 2006

Can I describe the feeling of having a cock inside me? What is it that I
feel? It's invasive. It feels hard. It's animalistic. It fills me and
makes me feel whole. It makes me feel like a woman. I can feel each inch
of it inside me, the nerve endings inside of my pussy all alive. I can
feel my cavern being stretched to make way for the bulbous head. I can
feel the heat and see the white light. I can feel my cunt expanding to
accommodate the girth and length, the slickness that permeates my hole.
Can I actually be getting wet? I can look into my lover's eye and see the
desire, the need, feel that moment when he is buried to the hilt and our
bodies truly touch, his root and my rump, the sweat and exchange of energy.
I can feel the extra, that extra little bit of size and hardness that comes
a few strokes before his orgasm is reached. I can see the ecstasy in his
eyes as the waves of orgasm begin to crash and I can feel the pulsing and
flaring of the hard cock as it dumps its sexual seed deep within me,
washing into me in a release of pure lust. I can see him, the conqueror
and he has just taken his slut.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2006

What a night. George invited some of the girls from the club over for a
pool party. I went with Dina with the idea that we would crash there for
the night. There were five t-girls including me and Dina - Amber, Kara and
Michelle - and 3 or 4 of George's friends that he's known for a while.

[Editor's note: George was a regular in the community, a good guy and his
friends were all pretty cool. I knew a few of them.]

I brought my new one piece suit (it fit pretty well, thankfully) and a
towel with my overnight bag - one of these days I'm going to have the
perfect curves to go all bikini on someone if it's the last thing I do. I
wore my hair pulled back with a pink bandana, a pink tank top, jean
miniskirt and my 4" silver strappy sandals. It was a nighttime party, so I
did my eyes dark and my lips were a hot pink with plum liner. Then I put
glitter on them. I fucking love that look, dipping the applicator brush
into the glitter and then dabbing my lips. It really brings them out when
I use a darker liner like I did last night. White g-string panties/white
bra.

We all hung by the pool for a while, talking and laughing. At some point
in the night, around 10:30 or so, I had gone to the powder room to freshen
my face and when I came out John was waiting for me. He said George had
sent him inside because Amber had kissed George and John bet George that I
would be a better kisser. I was pretty drunk at this point, so I kissed
John slow and lovingly, using my tongue to probe his mouth. His breath was
minty fresh. He put his hands on my bottom and squeezed me as I moaned a
little and pressed into him. He hiked up my miniskirt and began to rub my
bottom, my thin g-string the only defense from his probing hands. I was
getting turned on with all the kissing and I could feel John's stiffening
rod through his shorts. Then he pushed me into the bathroom, turned me
around and placed my hands on the sink so I was bent over. I relented,
eager for what, or who, was to cum next. He lifted my skirt again and slid
down my panties and I stepped out of them and offered my ass. John knelt
on the floor and began teasing my t-pussy with his tongue as I moaned with
delight and spread my cheeks - a heavenly feeling. My deep-seated arousal
conquered any inhibitions I may have had.

I found some Vaseline in the medicine cabinet over sink and reached behind
me to offer it to John, my signal to him that he should take my wet, eager
and hungry pussy. I heard his clothes fall to floor and felt the cool
lotion being applied. I love that feeling of a man greasing me up like his
prize, just knowing I'm about to be fucked. John placed his cock, which I
still had not seen, on my opening and slowly pushed into me. I moaned in
ecstasy as he did, catching a glimpse of both of our faces in the mirror as
he began to take me.

I could tell his prick was decently sized as he placed both arms around me
and finally drove his stiff stick into me to the hilt. I spread my legs a
little more, looking down at my high heel sandals and the way they made my
smooth legs and thighs look. Then I pushed back into him so he would back
up and give it to me good. I was now bent at the waist, my head level with
the sink, my hand on it for leverage and my pussy full of John's cock.
John fucked me lovingly, nice and slow, careful to let me feel every inch
of him as he seductively moved back and forth inside me.

"That's it baby, oooh yeah baby," the words were dribbling from my mouth as
I began to coo at my lover. "I need that cock baby, give it to me good."

I wanted him to quicken his pace, to make me his bitch, even going so far
as to push back into him for all I was worth as a signal. It didn't
happen. John took his time with me, giving me some decent thrusts, but
overall it was a little slow and I was glad when I felt him tense and cry
out as his cum filled my unsatisfied hole. He held me there for a moment
before I broke from him, turned and kissed him on the lips. I could feel
his cum inside me, something I love-love-love to experience. Then he
dressed, kissed me one more time and told me he would see me outside.

I cleaned myself up a little; thankful that I had brought my pocketbook
when I first went into the house, as I was able to retouch my makeup. Then
I went back and rejoined the group. Not a word was said, so I don't think
we were missed anyway. Everyone was getting pretty drunk.

Later on, after some people had left (including John), and it was just
Dina, Amber, George and I, George's friend Matt showed up. He wasn't
stumbling drunk, but it was clear that he had a few. From the get-go, Matt
was all over Amber, which isn't surprising considering she has a body to
kill for including enhanced D tits. My little B's look small by
comparison. I need implants!

The good news for me is that Amber wasn't really into him and, given my
less than satisfying tryst with John, I was certainly game for a second
round with young Matt. Once it became clear that Amber wasn't going to go
to bed with him, Matt moved on to me and before long we were alone in
George's basement under the flimsy excuse of finding something else to
drink - awesome, considering there was a half full cooler out on the patio.
I didn't care. I wanted Matt to want me and now that he did, I wasn't
planning to disappoint him or myself.

We kissed for a few seconds and I felt his hands roaming over my body. I
felt his dick through his bathing suit and it was fucking on. I dropped to
my knees and took his stiffening cock into my mouth, attacking him like the
bitch in heat I was. I sucked him hard and fast for a few minutes before
taking his slick shaft out of my mouth. I needed that delicious thick cock
with the strong veins between my legs. I lifted my skirt and stepped out
of my panties. He clearly knew what I wanted and seemed very willing to
oblige. He turned me around, spit on his hand and thrust into me,
doggie-style. Glorious. With my hole still slick from the lube and the
cum, I took Matt's sizable 7" with little discomfort and he had no problem
picking up the pace from there. I was a wild woman.

"Fuck me!" I screamed. "Fuck me you bastard. Fuck that dirty pussy!"

It felt so good to really get fucked with abandon by such a stud. Matt
reached around me and took my hardening clit in his hand, working me
perfectly in rhythm with his own thrusts, fucking me hard and deep. I never
wanted the moment to end. His hand felt so good on me. Clearly the drinks
had some effect on him, because it took him a gloriously long time to cum,
far longer than it took me as about halfway through his assault I felt the
orgasm crest and wash over me. At that point, there was nothing else to do
but take it like a good girl as I left my ass open to him and let him use
me until he was ready. He gave me some spanks on the ass as he fucked into
me too, driving me deep to my core..

"Yeah baby, yeah, fuck that cunt honey, fuck that dirty little cunt. Fuck
it, oooh yeah, take that dirty little hole."

Finally I reached between my legs and cupped his balls. Then I cooed,
"ooooh baby, give that seed honey, give Kristy that delicious cum, her
pussy needs it" - and I meant it - and then with a spasm he rammed his
stiff rod deep into me as his orgasm exploded into my backside.

Fuck-fuck-fuck yes. Seven thick streams pulsing into my bottom, delivering
its lustful payload into the ass of a willing slut. So good and so needed.
We both collapsed on the floor and fell fast asleep. At some point in the
night he woke me to say he was leaving, a blanket and pillow in his hand
for me (so sweet). Then he kissed me goodbye and I fell back into my
blissful, cum and rum-soaked sleep.

As I write this the next day, I realize Matt must have been shitfaced - it
clearly never dawned on him that my pussy was already soaked from John when
he went to fuck me. Silly boys.

End Diary Entry

The Office OR Who's The Slut In The Next Cube?

And so it went like that for several months. I was opening up sexually and
becoming increasingly more comfortable with my body. I was down to about
140 pounds and the hormones were really and truly showing their potency as
my skin was smoother, my hair growth was virtually nonexistent (I was
fanatical about shaving anyway, no hair on Kristy, ever) and my hips and
ass had really sprouted. I still had B cups though - very disappointing.
It was at this time that my friend, Shauna, had gotten her nose done and
had some other facial feminization procedures done on her forehead. She
looked great and it really got me thinking about plastic surgery. I was
intrigued enough to make an appointment for a consultation, but I didn't go
through with it - yet. I did, however, have my first real run in at work.

Diary Entry: October 2006

I knew this was going to happen. Apparently my appearance at work has not
gone unnoticed. I got an email to my work account, from someone clearly in
my office but from a hotmail address with the subject line "Which of These
are You Going To Go As?" Turns out the email contained a whole series of
advertisements of all the different scantily clad costumes a girl could
wear on Halloween. Fuckers. I deleted it - after I checked out the
costumes. Put me down for the sexy Cinderella. Sinderalla I think they
called her. Maybe I should just go as a cum dumpster. It's all I think
about anyway.

I fucking hate being at work because of this.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2006

Last night was Halloween and the party was in full swing. I definitely got
my swerve on. Did some cocaine a nice guy named Greg had brought, drank my
drinks and partied it up. I went as a Flapper, albeit as a flapper in
fishnets with as much of my meager tits showing as I possibly could. I got
felt up by everyone. Sounds like a lot of the girls did. I wasn't even
showing that much skin. Some of the girls, especially the ones who make
their money by shaking their moneymaker were barely in more than panties, a
bra and heels. I looked like a nun by comparison. Alas, I am sweet and I
love to party and all worked out well. I did a couple of lines of Greg's
coke in the bathroom - note, is it possible to love a drug? God it made me
feel so good. Definitely lowers inhibitions too. It did with me. Some of
the girls will go a guy's car for a quickie during the night. I'd never
done that until last night when I went with Carl - and blew him, yummy load
- and then later Greg. I bobbed up and down on his coke infused stick of
meat for a long time before he finally popped in my mouth. Delicious.

I was clearly pretty fucked up because I normally don't let guys near my
clit if they want to suck on it, but I let Carl do it to me and gave him my
watery, hormone mix and that was only around 11:00PM. I'm a skank. One of
these years I'm just wearing a bra and panties if it kills me to tone my
abs to perfection. This sucks. I just can't lose the little I have left,
just a little too soft for my liking. When I do get there, I'm going bare
midriff all the time. Fuck. I work so hard for so little results.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2006

Sex. It's all I think about. When I have sex, it is always in high heels
now too. There's just no taking them off in my world. I think I'm going
insane, like really insane. I can't stop thinking about sex, being
desired, being dirty, that fantasy that guys have. The slutty pinup who a
guy can actually fuck. I'm attainable, so willing to give it up. Why?
Why am I so easy? I like to think of myself as a sexual being, on an even
playing field with a man. I like sex so I have it. Is there anything
deeper? Am I not good enough looking? Am I trying to fill a void caused
by my own narcissism?

Let me take stock. I am 26 years old, 5'8" tall and weigh 140 pounds. My
(wigged) hair is auburn and works with my dark eyes and skin very well. I
have a very pretty face that is even prettier when I smile. My shoulders
are medium, neither broad nor slight. I have very little Adam's Apple at
all, which is good. My nose is good too, with a slight, feminine upturn
and my cheekbones are high and can be accented without issue. My lips
aren't bad, supple, albeit a little too slim on top but I overdraw them and
do fine there. My arms are not too big, no muscles to give me away. My
hands are of good size (a little too big) but my fingers are long and thin
(size 8 ring finger) which helps quite a bit. My breasts are a small B cup
and do not have any of the size or fullness I desire. The extra weight
that I had when I was younger has left me with a little softness around my
midsection, which drives me insane. I look good with a cincher on, curves
in all the right places, but without one I do not have the definition of
taper to hip that I want. My ass is pretty good, as are my hips on their
own. For a girl born a guy I should give myself more credit for my lower
half. I have curves and I don't need padding. My legs are consistently
complimented. My shoes are a women's 10, workable, albeit bigger than I
would prefer.

What I want: I want my own hair, long with body, much bigger breasts and a
flatter tummy. I wish I weighed 15 pounds less. I wish I was 2" shorter
and I wish I had smaller feet.

Diary Entry: November 2006

This is getting bad. Now they're giving me a hard time in the men's room
at work. I get that I am pretty super-femmy and I can barely conceal the
changes in my body, but I don't bother anyone. Justin at the office told
me all the guys make jokes about me peeing in the stalls. What am I
supposed to do? I'm well beyond the standing up point. I sit to pee. End
of story. He told me pretty much everyone has something to say about me
now. That I'm gay, that I'm a faggot; that I'm turning into a girl. I
resent that last one. I turned into a girl a long time ago. I cannot lose
this job. I'm beginning to feel unsafe there, but I don't really know if I
want to do anything about it. What am I going to do anyway, go to human
resources? What are they going to do?

Diary Entry: December 2006

I must-must-must write today as something sensational has happened. I met
Steven and Mark at [Boston T-club] the same way I always meet guys - I was
there with the girls and they were there to try and hook up with us. These
guys were a little different though, out-of-towners, fun, younger and
respectful. Both were dark haired and slim, with Mark being a little
taller - just over six feet. He was the more interesting one to me, partly
due to the 3" scar he had on his left arm, a result, he said, from a fight
over a girl four years ago. We all shot the breeze at the bar for a while
but eventually the three of us got a little closer when the other girls had
gone to watch the performers. We did a shot and they told me they had some
coke in their hotel room if I wanted to go with them and party. I was down
for that but the other girls wanted to stay since it was only about 10:00PM
at this point. Shauna, bless her, always has my back and wouldn't let me
leave without extracting some collateral material in exchange. I'm not
even sure what she worked out, but she told me I was safe to go and she
didn't have to tell me twice. We made our way over to the hotel - the same
place I had lost my cherry at - and before long we were tucked away in
their room with some beers as Mark began chopping out some lines.

[Editor's note: I had only done coke a few times at parties. I liked it a
lot when I did it, but I don't think in my mind I was ready to embrace the
party girl lifestyle when I tried it those prior times. That said, I was
very ready by this point. I knew it made me feel good and once I
discovered that it suppressed my appetite and would turn me into a skinny
and horny slut, I was hooked. Cocaine would become my co-pilot in almost
every sexual escapade I would have - and I had thousands.]

I was looking good last night - a dark brown turtleneck dress, black thigh
highs and 5" black heels with ankle straps. My hair was down, eyes dark,
lips a fat and deep ruby red and matching leopard print bra and g-string.
Sexy.

We did a few lines and had a beer. I had a cigarette [By then I was
smoking. I had started a month or so earlier because I thought it looked
sexy. I was right no matter what anyone says] and another line and another
beer. Then Mark and I began kissing. Then Steven and I kissed. I knew
where this was going and I didn't care. The booze was cold and the coke
was good and these guys were sexy. I let them undress me to my bra,
panties, cincher, stockings and heels as I continued to make out with both
of them. They began getting undressed and before long both were naked,
their rising cocks hardening with each passing second.

We moved to the bed and before long my bra and panties were off as Stephen
began to lick my nipples and Mark took my clit into his mouth. It felt so
good to have my body worshipped like that, two studs working on me and
bringing pleasure to every fiber of my being. As they licked and suckled
me, I started to stroke their cocks with each hand and felt them stiffen to
full potential.

Steven flipped me over and drove his tongue into my pussy as I pushed my
ass up into him and buried my head into a pillow. I enjoyed the rimming
for a short while before I felt Mark's hand lifting my mouth to his cock.
I latched onto his 8" of meat and slid it gently back and forth between my
lips. That's when I felt the lube being applied to my pussy by Steven -
this was going to happen - and I still cannot control my excitement that it
did!

"Oh yeah, baby," I moaned in between sucks of Mark's swollen prick. "Give
me. Give it to Kristy. Give me that dick."

Electric shocks jolted me as Steven slid his cock into my hungry pussy. I
fucking needed this. I needed what was happening to me. I needed to see
it, to see the image of me being double-teamed by these two gorgeous men.
To see me being spit-roasted by two hard cocks as the drool leaked out of
my mouth and pooled on the sheets. To see my horny ass being slammed into
by eight inches of rock hard sex. I moaned in ecstasy as they began to
pound away at me, Steven fucking my ass and Mark fucking my face. With
Steven's 7" buried inside me I had 15" of glorious man meat driving me to
sensations I could never have imagined. I was whole, completely filled,
openly wanton and desperately hoping these feelings would never go away.

"Fuck your slut" my mind screamed to them. "Fuck her like the dirty slut
she is. Feed her your cum and let her take it all inside. Use her for
your own release. Use her!"

"Oooooh fuck yes," I cried as Steven's rigid cock drilled into my prostate.
"Right there, yeah, mmmm." I could feel the milk building inside me with
each thrust. I was blinded by pleasure, by the sensations these men were
giving me. Fuck-fuck-fuck yes, I need this over and over.

My ass felt so open and so used as the pounding continued. I doubled my
efforts on Mark's cock in my mouth, twisting the tip of his magnificent
tool with my hand on each retreat. I had to have his cum. I had to have
it. Fucking give it to me. Give me your fucking seed. Take me. Take my
ass. It's yours. Give me all of your sticky fucking cum and let me feel
it sliding down my throat. Give me all of your hot juice and bury it deep
inside my open hole. Let it coat me, let it fucking take hold inside of me
and rock me to my core. I am yours. Use me.

I screamed in ecstasy and sheer delight as the thought of what was
happening to me blew my sex-soaked mind. My own cum was dripping out of me
with each thrust now, the first time my clit had had its milk fucked out of
it, a new type of orgasm for me. Total rapture. I ran my hand over the
wet sheets and smeared some of my cum onto my ass as Steven continued his
glorious fucking. I was a pig, a dirty fucking hole, a cum dump. Give me
your fucking cum.

"Cum for me baby," I cooed. "Give me all that glorious cum. My hole needs
all of it baby, yeah."

That sent Steven over the edge and he shouted his ecstasy into the air,
driving into me with all his might and causing Mark's hard rod to disappear
down my throat as I felt Steven's orgasm exploding inside me. Seconds
later it was Mark's turn and even though I was gasping for breath I pushed
his cock past my gag reflex and felt his spasms begin as his delicious cock
began to pump its payload into my empty stomach.

End of Diary Entry

Yet another layer of my slutty behavior had been revealed. By now I needed
it with all of my being. Looking back, this was the spot where I went
completely over the edge. Multiple partners in the same night was one
thing, but this was something else. Two partners at once, leaving my
friends to get fucked, cocaine, deep-throating ... and loving all of it to
the core. It took all of these seeds a little time to grow, but they were
planted on that day. I passed a whole bunch of limits on this very night
and, within a few months, would surpass every single one I could have
barely comprehended a few years earlier. I was about to dive to the
deepest part of decadence.

Looking back, it is apparent to me that by this point I was in the early
stages of becoming a full blown party girl. I wanted my kicks as fast as I
could get them. I wanted it all - cocks, cum, coke ... and most of all I
wanted to be a pinup slut. I dreamed of people typing my name into Google
and racing to click the Images button, where picture after picture of me
wearing next to nothing would appear before them so they could jerk their
cocks. I wanted to be wanted to my very core, to be the baddest bitch in
the land. You want to fuck this tight hole? Beg me for it. Fawn all over
me. Ply me with your drugs, buy me those delicious drinks because my tiny
miniskirt rides up my legs and exposes my thigh highs when I delicately sit
down and seductively cross my nylon encased legs. You cannot resist this.
Feed me your delicious coke and then I will drop to my knees like the slut
I am and take your sword all the way down my throat. I'll take it to the
hilt in my ass and leave you spent, covered in glitter, your dick wrecked
from that dirty whore you did so well. Go home to wifey and try to explain
it away. You can't because my delicious vanilla body scent is all over
you, my strawberry infused fuck-hole is still dancing on your dick and my
glitter, the way I mark my territory, is all over you. You've just fucked
me and I love it and now you're fucked and I love that too.

That was the way I felt. Part of me still feels that way. But I didn't
execute it right. I was easily led. And I loved the drinks and the drugs
and giving it up so much that I was never quite hot-bitchy enough back then
to top these guys from the bottom like that. I let them use me because I
wanted what they had more than I wanted to control them. Actions dictate
priorities and my priorities were all about filling my soul and my holes
with as much cock and coke as I could find.

Diary Entry: January 2007

Happy New Year! It's going to be such a great one, I can feel it. At the
New Year's Party at John's last night, something special happened. I ended
up getting fucked by Cory, who was not my first choice, but turned out to
be an incredible lover. God he fucked me so good and in the process, my
pussy truly came for the first time! I don't know exactly what happened, so
I'm just going to describe it in case it happens again. I had heard of
this kind of thing but always thought it was bullshit. An ass can't cum.
Au contraire.

So he was inside of me doggie, giving it to me good, so good that I guess
some people could hear me screaming at his onslaught, which I love, since I
know there were guys in that house that heard my screams of ecstasy and
thought about fucking me. Anyway, I could feel a drip or two, but I
thought it was pre-cum from my clitty and it very well may have been, but
as Cory wailed away at me and my prostate, I could feel something growing
and building inside of me. At first, and this is gross, I thought that
maybe he was fucking me so hard that something was going to happen in a bad
way back there, but then it built and built and built and the sensation
overtook me. My head swam and I cried out and rode the wave. As I did, I
looked down and several drops of sticky milk were being fucked out of my
clitty with each of Cory's thrusts. It wasn't pee or pre-cum, it was the
real thing and even better than the two-on-one a week ago. It started
slowly, just a series of drips, but about 30 seconds later the sensation
came back with even greater power and then my eyes involuntarily closed as
my release took hold and several ropes of my divine honey exploded from my
flaccid cockette. It was glorious. A tidal wave of emotions.

It ended up happening three times and each time was more powerful than the
last. The bedspread Cory fucked me on was soaked and my ass was soaked
even before he came. I could feel the lubrication, again, scared that it
was something else, but it wasn't. I was the clean honeypot I've always
been when I get fucked. I was just simply soaked from our cum, from my
cum. I cannot believe this has happened and I am psyched to try it on my
own so I can learn my body and what it reacts to so I can feel this feeling
again and again. God, I fucking need it.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2007

I can't do this anymore. The more I think about my family and my job the
more I realize how much of a liar I am by keeping my real feelings and real
self from them. I feel terrible about it. It's bogging me down and
filling me with dread. How am I supposed to have that conversation?

End Diary Entry

This was a really confusing time for me. I remember it like yesterday and
it was one of those periods in my life where the highs were very high and
the lows felt really low. I was all over the map at times; one day feeling
so good about myself, the next feeling like a fat cow/guy in a dress, the
next day being in control of my emotions, the day after being a wreck. It
was troubling. Growth I suppose. I was growing, wrestling with issues and
emotions I wasn't completely understanding. I get it now for the most
part, but back then I was just a baby. I love my next entry - I go from
worrying about telling my parents to ...

Diary Entry: January 2007

I am a cummer. A squirter even, dare I say. I spent the night literally
fucking myself with a new 12" vibrator that I bought. It brought me that
place again and yes, the lubrication in my ass is truly cum or something
like it. It wasn't the lube; it came from inside of me. Even better, the
cums out my cockette are the real thing too. I brought myself off four
times tonight and again, each one was stronger than the last and the
streams of cum, without any touching of my clit with my hand, came roping
out of me. This is bad news in an ironic way. I loved cock so much before
and now this. Jesus, I can only imagine what the lure of this will do to my
psyche, and, if I may be so vain, my reputation on the street. Once guys
get wind that I can truly cum, I could be immense.

End Diary Entry

Just some fucked up stuff. "What am I going to do? Should I tell my
parents? What should I say? Cry, cry ... oh look at this vibrator, its
pink, I love it, tee-hee!! Let me fuck myself silly with it for an hour."
Reading this I am left with one conclusion - I am a bimbo :)

The World's Oldest Profession OR I Don't Like The Drugs But The Drugs Like
Me

Diary Entry: January 2007

I need-need-need tits. Big ones. I've been doing the hormone thing for a
long time now. The results have been OK, but not what I want. I have some
nice, fuckable hips. My waist continues to slim - thank goodness for
running, but I need bigger boobs. I see these girls on the internet and
they have these impossibly large breasts - and they reshape their entire
body. Everything up top is incredibly tight, their nipples always seem to
be on display and their cleavage is beyond stunning. When I think of the
amount of cock I could get with bigger tits, my head spins. I need them.
I need to feel myself spilling out of some too-tight baby tee or a fire
engine red cocktail dress. I need it with every ounce of my being.
That'll be the end of me at work though. Not sure if I'll get let go - I
suppose in theory they can't fire me, but I've already been put into the
phone role so they don't have to put me in front of the client anymore. If
I walk in looking like a big-titted sex bomb, they're either going to fuck
me or fire me. I don't care. I'll figure something out.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: February 2007

I cannot believe I am writing these words: I took money for sex. Fuck!

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: February 2007

I need to write in my journal to clarify yesterday's entry and try to make
some sense of how all of this happened. Where to begin? Jack. Fucking
Jack. I'm trying to be good about drinking and driving. I realize that
late nights clubbing and drinking and god knows what else are only going to
add up to trouble at some point. So, I figure that if I can't/shouldn't go
to the party all the time, I should have the party come to me. I've been
running ads on Craigslist "advertising" as a party girl. What I'm offering
is this: if a guy brings cocaine and wine to my house, we'll party it up
and he can fuck me. It's pretty straightforward. It's worked for me twice
so far in the past two weeks and hasn't worked a few other times.
Craigslist is pretty fucking spotty. But, the third time it worked I met
Jack.

Turns out he lives a couple of miles from my apartment and seemingly has
coke all the time. Fucking jackpot. Kind of. So he comes over, actually
on time which is nice because these guys are always late. And he walks in
with a 12 pack of beer, an 8 ball of cocaine and his beyond laid back
attitude.

One of the things I always enjoy when I meet someone from online is their
reaction to me in the flesh. Every single one drools over me in person.
That is, before Jack, who when he met me and I asked him what he thought,
told me I looked a little older and a little heavier than my pictures. I'm
28 years old and I weigh 135 pounds for heaven's sake and I am 5'9" at
least! The nerve.

But he does keep on coming back. He was over Monday with his 8 ball and
over Tuesday with a couple of grams and I saw him again Friday of this week
which I will get to in a second.

Monday he walks in on time with his 8-ball of cocaine and the beer. He's a
pretty decent looking guy. About 5'11" and maybe 170 pounds, dark, wavy
hair that is graying a little on the sides, nice dark eyes and strong
hands. He's not ripped, but he's definitely in shape.

The guy doesn't do coke, but he has it all the time, which is awesomely
twisted on so many levels. So I'm doing my lines and drinking a beer with
him and having a cigarette and it's a hoot. It's Monday after all. Why I
am partying on a Monday is a question I will need to ask myself at some
point. Now is not the time. He got there around 8 and now it's 10 and I
am getting pretty fucked up and very horny. God I love coke. I've already
done plenty by now and my association between drugs and sex is starting to
kick in. I'm horny and ready for action. But he's not interested.

He's not fucking interested in fucking me. Me! The girl who can suck a
dick like a porn star. The girl who will open her baby- doll soft and sexy
legs for anyone. The girl with the strawberry flavored pussy.

Total mind screw. He doesn't want to fuck me? What the hell is he doing
here?

He does, however, want to see me naked, which is odd. So I strip for this
guy, this weird, nice, seemingly polite, smart drug dealer guy. And there
I am in all of my naked glory, just wearing the cincher, black thigh highs
and heels I had on under my skirt and blouse - minus the bra and panties
that I seductively took off for him. He looks me up and down, taking the
time to lift my very little, hormone and coke reduced cock, to spread my
ass cheeks and to fondle my breasts a little bit. He had me bend over at
the waist and run my fingers through my ass crack - and then he was done.

He was done.

I needed something, something to fill my soul, so I essentially begged him
to let me blow him, which he allowed. I did another line of cocaine and
then gave him a long, lingering blowjob, making sure to look up at him from
my knees as I did until he blew his creamy load down my throat. I
swallowed it all. Then he left me to my coke (his coke that he gave me?
WTF?) and walked out of my door.

I was somehow able to function at work the next day. I'm not sure how.
Everyone asked if I had a cold because my nose was so stuffed from all the
candy I was snorting up it the night before.

Later that day, I checked my personal account during the day and Jack had
emailed asking if I was going to be around that night. I said yes and we
set it up for the same drill.

I raced home from work and hit the door by 5:30, giving me over two hours
to get ready for my "date." I showered and shaved and primped and finally
got dressed - my auburn hair flowing over my shoulders, my most seductive,
catlike look on my eyes with heavy, heavy glitter, bronzer and blush on my
cheeks, delicious pink lipstick with a brick red liner and more glitter on
my lips. Then I put on my purple metallic full length bustier, a short
black skirt, black fishnet thigh highs and 4" black fuck me pumps. I was
not going down without a fight.

At 8:00PM there was Jack at my door with more beer and a couple of grams of
coke. Given that there was no way I could do a whole 8-ball by myself from
the night prior, I now had a small hill of cocaine on my kitchen table.

We smoked and drank and I blew some lines and we talked about my transition
and my desire for bigger breasts and that's when he pitched me. Or pimped
me.

"Kristy, do you really want to spend most of your life savings on larger
breasts if you don't have to?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, here's what I have in mind. You clearly love sex and have told me
repeatedly how much you love having men fawning all over you. So, here's
what we do. I'll provide the place, the drinks, the coke and the guys.
You provide the schedule and, well, your ass. I figure we can get
somewhere between $100 and $200 bucks a shot. I take half until you pay
for half of the room and then I take 25%. For that, all you need to do is
tell me when you're available and I'll provide the room and make sure it's
got a line of guys coming to it. They'll all be clean and I'll be there to
make sure it all goes smoothly. It'll basically be exactly like this right
now, us just hanging out, only we'll have to stop sometimes so you can get
fucked. Then the guy will leave, we'll settle the money and we can go back
to hanging out."

I was speechless ... for a second.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!?! I'm not a whore, Jack." I was
furious.

He just stared at me.

"I mean, what the fuck do you take me for? Just some simple fucking chick
that you can pimp out to your fucking friends? Just some dumb fucking
cokehead, fucking cokewhore? I'm not that, OK? I'm not."

He kept looking at me as I rambled on and I could see what he was doing
with his eyes, moving them in a triangle to the open coke, the wine and my
tits, which were as on display as my little Bs can be.

"Come over here," he beckoned.

"What? What the fuck do you want?" I challenged.

"Come over here," he repeated. He patted to his lap. "Sit down."

"No," I protested.

"Come over here," he repeatedly calmly. Then he smiled. I got up and
walked around the table to where he was sitting. He patted his lap again
and I sat down. I shouldn't have. I never should have given in to him.
He rubbed my hips and my sides and then kissed the back of my neck. I
fucking love it when guys do that and I swooned, still trying to resist his
touch. His hot breath gave me goose bumps.

"It's OK," he said. "It's OK."

He kept kissing my neck as he reached around me and laid out two more
lines.

"Do these, you'll feel better."

Still swooning, I leaned forward, careful to ensure I was grinding my
fuckable ass into his crotch as I lifted the straw and put it to my nose.
I did both lines quickly, taking one in each nostril. My head swam and I
sat back as he picked up a wine glass full of Chardonnay and put it to my
lips.

"Drink."

I did, letting the buttery coolness fill my mouth and throat as he rubbed
my thighs. The he chopped out two more lines and I did those as well. God
he could have taken me right there. What is wrong with me? I should have
fought.

"Stand up."

I got off of him and before I could protest he was delicately putting my
short, black Cinzia overcoat on me. Then he grabbed the wine glass and
told me to follow him.

We got into his Acura and before I knew it we were speeding into Boston. I
asked him a couple of times where we were going but all he kept telling me
was that it was a surprise. I had another glass and a half of wine and few
bumps from his coke stash on the way and before long we were in the
Chinatown area of Boston. He guided the Acura down a side street and
stopped the car.

"This should do. Let me see those legs, girl."

I leaned back and put my heels up on the dash, my feet twelve inches apart,
bunching what little of my skirt existed at my waist so he could see the
curvature of my thighs to my knees to my calves all heavenly encased in
fishnet stockings.

"Gorgeous, baby. Such great legs."

"Thanks honey, they'd look so much better wrapped around your waist," I
cooed.

"Take your coat off, love."

"It's cold out, Jack."

"Take it off, Kristy, trust me."

I did as he asked, thankful for the warm car as I sat in my bare shouldered
bustier, tiny miniskirt, fishnets and heels.

"Now put on some more lipstick, baby and glitter them up real nice."

"Jack, what's this all about?" I asked.

"Trust me - and do it."

I reached into my purse and redid my lips, adding glitter to them when I
was done. Jack handed me the wine glass and I took another large sip.

"Look at me." I did as he asked. "You look perfect."

"Thank you," was all I could come up with. What the fuck was this all
about?

"Now listen. We're going to have some fun tonight, OK? Some fun. Around
the corner from here is a bar, the Mandarin Gardens - I want you to go in
there and grab a seat at the bar and I'll join you in a minute."

"What the," I stammered. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be in in a minute. Don't worry about it. Just go in and order a
drink."

This was getting weird. "Whatever, just give me my coat."

"No coat. It's right around the corner. Just shimmy that pretty ass in
there and I'll be right there."

I didn't like this. I was dressed provocatively and was pretty sure the
extra attention was going to get me made. That had happened before, but
this time I'd be alone and not in a place I knew. I didn't like it. Plus
it was one of the coldest nights of the year. I was dressed for a hard
dick in my bedroom, not walking around downtown on a windy, 5-degree night.

"It'll be fun. Trust me," was all he said. Then he put the small spoon to
my nose and I did another bump of cocaine. "One last thing," he said as he
reached around my neck, flipped up my hair and began to attach a velvet dog
collar to me.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. This was a different side of him. "Are you
going to lead me around on a leash, Jack? Make me your bitch?" I teased.

"Maybe. All in good fun," he smiled and adjusted the collar. It fit well,
tight but not outrageously so. I checked myself in the overhead mirror. I
had to admit, it looked sexy.

"Fine, fuck it," I sniffed, and reached for the door handle.

The walk was freezing, on a frozen sidewalk with a stiff wind blowing. By
the time I made around the corner to the Mandarin my teeth were chattering.

I could feel the eyes on me as I made my way over to the Mandarin lounge.
In the middle of February, I was in 4" fuck me heels, fishnet stockings
with the tops not concealed at all by my 8" miniskirt, a bustier and my new
friend, the dog collar. My ass was barely covered. But you know what, I
waited a long time in life to be "me" and it's moments like this that I
relish, so I stuck my tits out and worked my ass back and forth for the
whole slow walk over to the bar. I wiggled my ass onto a barstool,
abandoning any hope of smoothing my skirt under my butt and instead just
fluffed it so it fell around me, crossed my legs and did what any good girl
with some boobies in a bar would do - I pulled my arms back and stuck my
perky little Bs out and waited for the bartender to get me a glass of wine.

I had finished my first glass - and no sign of Jack - when a guy came over
and asked if he could buy me a drink. I said yes and he did and we chatted
for a little while, but I think he made me and politely excused himself. A
short while later a short, stocky, balding guy named Mark came over and
struck up a conversation. He wasn't a bad guy, pretty articulate and in
town on business, fine for a conversation but not for a fucking. He bought
me another drink and made his attentions pretty clear when I felt his hand
on my leg, slowly caressing the tops of my stockings.

Where the fuck was Jack?

I moved his hand away a couple of times and he kept putting it back on my
leg, going ever higher and casually flicking a finger into the front of my
panties. It was obvious by his reaction that either he now knew I was a
tgirl or that his suspicions were confirmed. Either way, he was good with
it and I didn't really care. I had been felt up in bars before. I had my
wine and I was warm.

Mark and I had another drink and I realized that Jack had been missing for
over an hour now, so I excused myself and dialed his cell - no answer.

He fucking left me here? Or was planning to leave me here? How the fuck was
I going to get home? I went into my purse and dug out my wallet - at least
I could take a cab back if I needed to. It would probably cost me over a
hundred bucks but at least I had the means if I could find an ATM machine
... until I looked a little closer and realized all that was in my wallet
were my Macy's card and a few other meaningless pieces of plastic. Shit.

What a fucking sucker I am. Jack had fucking robbed me and left me here.
I was furious.

Gathering myself, I thought about what to do next. I could call my
friends, someone, somewhere to come and get me. It was after 11:00PM at
this point, would anyone still be up? It was a freaking Tuesday night.
Only one way to find out. I called Shauna, Amber and George, all went to
voicemail. Fuck.

I had another drink with Mark, taking my time to nurse it as long as I
could while I let him continue to rub my leg, which had pretty much become
my inner thighs at this point. I looked around and could see the few
remaining sets of eyes watching him rub me. One guy at a high-top table
about 10 feet away actually winked at me. Jesus, I was looking loose.

"So," said Mark, "I was thinking that maybe you'd like to have a drink back
at my hotel."

There it was. I had been propositioned before, so that part of it was no
big deal, but the fact that I was alone and didn't particularly want to go
home with chubby Mark and his so-so-looks-at-best was a problem. I
shouldn't have another drink, I thought, because I was already pretty
wine-d up, I don't want to go home with this guy and I have no ride. How
the hell did I get myself into this?

I called Jack's cell again. Straight to voicemail.

I had made the call from my seat and when I hung up Mark was looking at me
expectantly.

"OK," I said, "let's go get that drink."

His hotel was a few blocks away and my skirt blew up a couple of times
while Mark was trying to hail us a cab. I was shivering by the time we got
to his hotel. As I figured, he just grabbed my hand and whisked me past
the lobby to the elevators; there wasn't going to be any drink.

We got up to his room - Room 319, standard room, two double beds - and he
shut the door and took me in his arms and kissed me. It wasn't a bad kiss
or unexpected really even, but this guy was just not my style and I wasn't
into him at all. I let my body go limp in his arms like all the guys like
and he proceeded to try and give me a seductive French kiss that ended up
being a bad impression and ultimately just stuck his tongue down my throat.
Then he disappeared into the bathroom and I sat down on the bed (big
mistake).

When Mark came out he was completely naked, looking chubby and stocky, his
flaccid dick no more than three inches long. As he stood in front of me,
everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion and I thought about
bailing on this situation long and hard for what seemed liked minutes.
Finally I spit it out.

"I can't have sex with you."

"What?"

I said it again.

"Aren't you a hooker?" Mark asked me.

I was furious. "No," I spat.

He looked at me for a few minutes. Then his demeanor changed. "You have
to leave." He went to the bathroom to gather up his clothes.

Where was I supposed to go? "I can't. I don't have any place to go." I
called after him.

"Get out. You look like a hooker, you're dressed like a hooker, it's
obvious you've been partying and using me for my drink money like a hooker.
If you're not going to bend over and take it like a hooker then get the
fuck out." He was glaring at me. Irate.

"I can't. Please. I have no ride home, no place to go."

"That's not my problem," he spat back at me. "Ass, cash or grass, and
you've only got ass."

The tears started and I fought them back. I gathered up my purse,
straightened my miniskirt and moved for the door. Mark grabbed my tit as I
walked by past, but I pushed by him and stepped out into the hallway.

"No fuck, no stay," he sneered as he slammed the door.

I teetered down the hallway on my 4" spikes, completely at a loss for what
to do. I made my way back through the lobby, looking completely out of
place in my next-to-nothing outfit and all alone. I looked exactly like
what everyone thought I was - a whore. I stepped through the circular door
and out onto the street. The air was bitter cold and snow had begun to
fall. I walked a couple of blocks, trying to shield myself from the wind.
The snow felt like needles. A Honda pulled up and rolled down its window.

"Hey baby, you want a ride?"

I shuffled over to the car. I couldn't really make out the driver's face.
"How much honey?" he asked.

I grimaced and turned and walked on as the tears started to stream down my
face. I shuffled against the wind for a couple of more blocks, my face
flushing red from the wolf whistles and honking of car horns at my
appearance. I walked and walked, aimlessly through the city as it finished
closing up and started to go to sleep. I tried to find a bus station, a
subway station, anything that would give me respite from the elements. I
failed. I was lost, cold and alone.

I was freezing, my body shivering as I finally gave in to the weather and
slumped against a brick wall, hugging myself to keep the wind and snow off
of me. I closed my eyes, hoping that the sounds of the city would
dissipate in my head. I was alone, homeless for a night, without any means
and getting desperate. I searched my brain for a solution, thinking that
maybe I could find an open bar or pub and find someone to give me shelter
for the night. I picked myself up and walked to the corner just in time to
see the lights of a nearby bar go dark. My tears started again.

I tried to keep moving, to keep the blood flowing and to hopefully stumble
across something or someone that would help me. I was in a shitty part of
town and as I walked I passed two homeless men huddled into an alley away
from the wind and snow. I thought there was a chance they could help me,
guide me to a shelter, something. As I approached they perked up at the
click- clack of my heels. I said hello and one of them screamed at me,
telling me to go away, that my pussy was unclean. I turned and ran the
best I could away from them and some sort of board or metal object just
missed hitting me in the head as I turned out of the alley. I could still
hear one screaming about my unclean pussy a block away.

Is that what I am to everyone? Unclean? A prostitute? A whore? Am I a
whore? I started to cry and cried the entire way back to the warmth of the
hotel, back to room 319, back to Mark. I knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Mark called through the door.

"It's me," I stammered through shivering teeth.

I could feel his eye on me through the peephole.

"Why are you here?" he shot back at me.

"Please," I pleaded. "I need a place to stay."

He opened the door, with the chain still on. "Listen," he whispered. "I
want to have a good time with you tonight, bend you over and fuck that
shemale pussy of yours. I have money. You can stay if you ..." he lowered
his voice some more, "....are a hooker."

The words hung in the air like toxic smoke. I could feel tears and fought
them back with all of my might. I reached deep inside and gathered myself
to say the words.

"I am a hooker."

"That's it. Now was that so hard?" he chided. He opened the door and I
stepped inside. Mark dropped his bathrobe, once again revealing his stubby
cock. "Let me see those tits, baby."

So this is what being a hooker is. They own you. I pulled my bustier down
and took out my tits.

"Bend over for me."

Through tear-stained eyes I bent at the waist to give him a good view of my
ass. I was a piece of meat.

"Now suck this cock baby." I walked over to Mark and thought he was going
to lay down on the bed. "No, no," he said. "Get on your knees and suck
me."

My heart sank. I think my soul left me at that point. Then I gave in to
this man and what I am and dropped to my knees. I took his cock into my
mouth and looked up at him through watery eyes.

"That's it," he purred. "Ahhh. Such a good little cocksucker."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. But his torment continued.

"Baby, this what you're good at. It's not so hard is it?"

I didn't react.

"Answer me."

I slowly nodded my head side-to-side, his hard cock still deep in my mouth.

"Take it out and get on the bed."

I did as he asked, the snuffle from my nose beginning to run down my face.
I crossed my legs and faced him.

"Not like that, baby. Face down, ass up. And get those panties off."

I tried not to grimace as I lowered my g-string to the floor and stepped
out of it. Then I crawled onto the bed on all fours, lowered my head and
put my naked ass in the air, offering it to this man. This man who owned
me for the time being. He was going to fuck me ass for money and I was
going to lay there and take it because that's what whores do.

I felt the lube on my ass and then his cockhead pressing against my flower.
Then he plunged into me and I bit down on the pillow and screamed through
clenched teeth, my pussy forever unclean.

Shortly after Mark was done fucking my ass, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"I'm out front in the car."

I got up off the bed and gathered what little belongings I had - my phone
and my purse. I checked my face in the mirror. I was a mess, even
waterproof mascara runs if you soak it with as many tears as I had that
night.

"Money's on the desk," I heard Mark utter.

I walked over to it and stared at the $100 bill for a few seconds. Then I
took it and put it in my purse.

I was through the lobby and out the door of the hotel in a flash, stepping
into Jack's waiting Acura, ready for battle.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screamed. "You fucking leave me!
You fucking left me there!" I punched him in the arm as he drove and the
familiar tears rolled down my cheeks. "You fucking asshole!" I buried my
head in my hands and wailed for a full five minutes before I could calm
down. I was shivering, not from the cold anymore but from either rage or
fright or shock or something.

"Are you OK?" Jack asked me, sympathetically.

"Why? Why did you leave me?" I pleaded. I needed to know.

"I didn't leave you. I was there the whole time."

"Don't!" I shouted. "Don't you fucking play games with me."

"Listen to me," he said. Then he soothed, "Are you going to listen?"

I was silent for a few minutes before my curiosity got the best of
me. "Fine, I'll listen." There was no way anything he said was going to
make a difference anyway.

"You got through it," he said. "I know you're upset but you got through
it."

"Through what?"

"Through the night. Through your ordeal. Listen, I know you're pissed at
me and you probably have a right to be, but I took you out of your comfort
zone and you got through it."

"Fuck you," I said. "Fuck you and your comfort zone and your bullshit
about doing me favors or anything like that. You're a fucking asshole. I
could have died outside. I could have been raped. Beaten up."

"But you weren't."

"You don't know. You don't know what I went through." The memories of the
night flashed through my brain; waiting for Jack, the voicemail on my
friend's phones, Mark, the cold wind and snow, my unclean pussy, admitting
I was the whore everyone thought I was ... and validating it by taking
Mark's money. My ass was worth a hundred dollars. That's what I had sold
it for. A measly hundred bucks.

I buried my head into Jack's shoulder and cried some more.

"Did you sleep with him?" Jack finally asked.

"I had to," I answered. Wait - how the hell did he know?

"Did he pay you?"

"Why are you asking me this?" I questioned through a stuffy nose and wet
eyes. My mascara had run onto the shoulder of Jack's shirt. I was a mess.

"Just answer me for a second. Did he pay you?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked.

"What the fuck does that mean, why?" I snorted. "I let him fuck me. I had
no other choice."

"You could have left it there. The money."

"Whatever, Jack. I'm done with this, with all of this. Just take me
home."

We sat in silence for a long while. Ten minutes, fifteen, something like
that.

"You wanted to do what you did," he said, like a hard slap in the face.
"You wanted it."

"No I didn't."

"You did, Kristy."

"I had no other choice."

"You wanted to do it," he came back with again.

"I didn't. What else could I do? I tried to get out of it. You weren't
there. You wouldn't answer. I thought you had left me!" I was getting
upset now and I didn't like where this was going.

"You had options. You could have called someone else."

"I did! I did call. I didn't want this to happen!" I screamed.

"You wanted this, Kristy. You wanted this whole thing to seem like it
wasn't your idea, like it was against your will, like you needed to do it,
but you didn't. You didn't need to."

"I was outside, it was so cold," I was crying again now.

"But you could have gone inside. You could have sat in the lobby and
waited until a friend answered their phone or I answered mine. You could
have gone to a police station or a train station to get away from the cold.
You could have made your way to someplace safe."

"No," I was balling now. "I had no other choice."

"But you did. You did have a choice. And you made it. You went up there
and you let a stranger fuck you for money."

"No," I whimpered.

"Because that's what you wanted to happen, because you love the thought of
someone paying you for the privilege of fucking you because you were going
to let them fuck you anyway."

"No," I screamed. I was losing the battle, doubting myself.

"Because you're a whore, Kristy. You're a hooker and a guy can have you if
he has the money. You wanted this. You know you wanted this. And me not
being there was the perfect excuse."

I was balling, inconsolable. "No."

I felt Jack lift and shift his weight and when I looked up at his eyes his
were looking down. I followed them and realized he had slid his pants down
to his knees.

"No," I moaned. His cock was hard and flaring. We were going seventy
miles an hour. New tears came flooding out of my eyes.

"Admit it," he said to me. "Admit to me you're a dirty whore. Show me
once and for all what I am saying is true. Admit it, the way a filthy slut
would, the way you would - and the way you will from now on." He pulled a
little bit of cocaine from the vial and dabbed it onto the head of his
cock. "Admit it. You don't even need to say anything. Admit that your
dirty cunt is for sale. You're a whore, Kristy, admit it. A fucking coke
whore. Look at it; my cock and the little white treat for my slut. It's
calling you. Admit it. Bow down to it."

I was gone, beyond repair and broken. Everything seemed like it happened
so fast. I didn't have a choice, did I? How had I ended up in Mark's
room? Could I have called someone else? Maybe I did want it. Maybe I
did. Jack's cock was hard and bobbing as we drove along. I stared at it,
with its little scoop of powder on top. Haunting me. Taunting me. A
totem of my weakness. My mouth watered and that sealed it. I had
broken. I closed my eyes and licked my lips as the tears of acknowledgement
poured down my face. Leaning forward I wrapped my lips around his cock,
sucking him in with every ounce of my being. Giving in to what I was.

"That's it," he soothed. "That's my good girl."

I sucked his cock to the root, deep-throating him and giving in to what I
was. I licked him the length of his shaft, moaning into to his cock,
worshipping it and begging for his cum with my mouth. I wanted it as fast
I could get it out of him and he obliged soon after with a gift of five
streams into my empty stomach. There wasn't anything to wipe away, I had
taken it all. We drove most of the way after that in silence, making small
talk and generally avoiding the subject. When I got home he got the door
for me and watched me disappear into my apartment before driving off. I
took a hot shower, climbed into bed and fell fast asleep.

When I woke up I was still a hooker. That was the one thought I had before
I opened my eyes. The second was that I had survived. I replayed last
night's scene in my head, thinking about what I had done, what Jack had
said. Was it true? It was. It had happened. I was a whore.

He called me later that day with his pitch. Given everything that
happened, he said, he thought we should go forward with his plan, which
wasn't basically that he was planning to pimp me out - he was definitely
planning to pimp me out. Was I a whore? Really a whore? I would open my
legs for money? I had already done that last night. Would it completely
take my self esteem? Had it already? Would it raise it? Fuck. Guys would
pay me to fuck me. They'd be clean. Did I really want to do this? Should
I at least just try it again, on my terms? That's what I kept asking
myself as he talked. Then I made a decision:

"Just don't tell me you have to sample the merchandise."

He laughed. We set it up for Friday and I thought we were all done. Then
he told me he would be over just for a second that night - he had a present
for me. I dolled myself up, hope-hope-hoping his present was Brad Pitt
with a raging hard on and a penchant for shemales. It was just Jack. And
his present.

"Put this on."

I took the heavily boned, royal blue corset and held it up.

"It will help your shape. I want you wearing it all the time."

All the time? Fuck.

It took the two of us almost an hour to not only get it on right, but to
make sure I could take it off and then put it back on and tighten it
properly. Jack showed me how to cinch it down to the point that I could
barely breathe. I couldn't argue with the results though. It gave me the
hourglass shape I craved.

"Total body control, Kristy. Mind over matter. Do not - DO NOT give in.
I want you wearing this. It was expensive and I expect to see results.
Hear me?"

I nodded.

Eventually I was able to move into a chair. Breathing was another matter.

On Friday, it was arranged that we would meet in the room of a nearby hotel
at 6:00PM so I could get ready. Jack claimed he had 3 guys set to come
over for $150 a piece at 8, 9 and 10PM and that he figured his other
inquiries would pay off as the night wore on and that I should expect
anywhere from five to eight guys that night if I could handle it. Could I
handle it? How the fuck should I know?

I walked into the room on Friday straight from work, looking like the
girly-boy I have to be at the office.

"Jesus, we have got to do something about this Kristy. If you're going to
be a sex bomb, be one."

I didn't need that. This was going to be hard enough.

I had brought two potential outfits with me, including the corset, plus
some comfortable clothes to wear home once the night was over, but before I
got into any of that, there was the little issue with the cocaine to be
cleared up. I planned on hoarding my leftovers from these adventures and
had left my hefty remnants at my house.

"I'm going to need some of your delicious coke, Jack." I smiled. Jack
smiled back and dropped an 8-ball on the table.

"Will that get you through the night?"

"We'll see."

Then I hungrily chopped out 3 small lines, took out my straw and started
the party.

Jack decided he liked the all black look to compliment the corset - black
Pleaser pumps with ankle straps (they're going to be up in the air a lot,
so the straps are a good thing, he joked), black Frederick's of Hollywood
fishnet thigh highs, the corset and black panties, black miniskirt (if you
can call a 6" skirt a skirt) and my new dog collar/velvet choker. OK by
me. He couldn't resist a dig though.

"Kristy, we're going to need to suck that little layer of fat out of your
stomach hon. We need you toned up perfectly, slut. Hit the gym or do
another line or something. Are you wearing the corset?"

"Every freaking day, Jack. As tight as I can get it. I sleep in it too."

Fucking prick. How much skinnier can I be?

I showered and shaved my body even though I have no hair and had very
little stubble anyway. I thought a lot about what was about to happen to
me, the ride I was about to go on. Finally I came to the conclusion that
it was worth a shot and my best effort. That I wanted this. I proceeded
to get dressed, taking my time to stop every little while for more blow and
more wine.

"Make sure you brush your teeth honey, that coke will give you nasty
breath."

"Doesn't matter," I shot back, gesturing to the corset. "I can't breathe
in this thing anyway."

He didn't smile. And I brushed my teeth.

We sat from 7:45 to 8:15, chatting. I did some more coke and had another
glass of wine. Then there was a knock on the door. Jack answered it and
greeted "Frank" as if they were old friends. Frank came in and Jack
introduced me. I smiled and then Frank hugged me. Jack offered him a
beer, which he accepted and then he sat down at the table and did a line of
coke. My coke. That's the kind of move Jack needs to put a stop to. I
didn't say anything, preferring to wait until after my trick (did I just
fucking write that?) had left. I did another small line too - I was jumpy
at this point and needed to either cool it with the drugs or drink more to
level off. Then we got to it.

"One hundred and fifty?"

Yes. He handed the money to Jack who counted it. Evidently it jived.

"She's all yours." (Oh fuck).

Frank took me by the hand and led me over to the bed. He kissed me, which
I accepted, thoughts of Julia Roberts' no-kissing rule in Pretty Woman
running through my head.

"Are you gonna suck my dick now honey?"

I sat down on the bed and looked up at him with innocent eyes. "I sure
am."

I reached for his belt and undid it before unbuttoning his pants and taking
down his zipper. I pushed his pants and boxers to his knees as his already
hard, 6" cock bobbed in front of my face. I looked up at him and licked my
lips. Then I opened and took his sex into my mouth.

"Oh yeah," he moaned.

I ran my nails up his legs and encircled them around his balls as I gently
tugged on them, while working his cock tip with my lips and tongue.

Frank chuckled and said - "she gives good head, Jack. Good fucking head."

I smiled up at him and resumed my sucking, this time using my right hand to
gently stroke and pull on his shaft. I sucked him like this for another
minute before he moved my face away from his rod.

"Let me see that ass baby."

"Do you want to fuck it," I cooed?

"I sure do, honey."

I rose from the bed and kissed him passionately on the lips before pulling
away and turning around. Then I seductively stuck my ass out, flipped up
my miniskirt and displayed my ass (his temporary ass) to him. He liked
what he saw - "she's got a great ass, Jack."

I hitched my thumbs into my panties, slid them down and stepped out of
them. Then I stood up straight and circled my ass at him.

"Lube's in the nightstand," I heard Jack say.

"Why don't you get on the bed, baby," Frank said. "Give me a good view of
that pussy."

More doggie style I figured. Guys really like it doggie style. Fuck it,
though, this was different than Mark at the hotel. I was desperate then.
This was going to be on my terms.

I did what he asked and felt the familiar cool grease being applied to my
cunt. "Oh yeah, baby, fuck me with that stick, yeah, give it to me."

I was thankful to feel him slide into me slowly, giving my pussy a chance
to accept his dick. All I could think is that the second one would slide
in much easier. Would the next in line know I had been just fucked? I
suppose he would. He's paying for it (Jesus) he's going to know it's not
my first time.

Frank was taking his time with me, kissing my back and slowly working his
cock in and out my lubed hole. I reached between my legs and found his
balls, taking them in my hand and massaging them slowly. Then I tugged at
them, my signal for him to pick up his pace and fuck me nice and hard. He
moaned with delight and then I felt his hands on my hips as his rhythm
began to quicken.

"That's it baby. Fuck Kristy's tight hole. Yeah, give it to your slut.
Give it to her."

The sheer insanity of the situation wasn't lost on me. I was giving up my
honeypot for money and any man that Jack set up for me, any man that walked
through the door was going to have his way with me. I had little or no
say. That's what being a whore is all about. They would come to the room
and I would let them fuck me. I would suck their cocks; big or small,
clean or dirty, it really didn't matter anymore. This is what I had
become.

Frank was fucking me hard and fast now, egged on by my cooing. "Fuck me
baby, yeah." I whipped my hair around. He grunted through his teeth and I
knew he was close. I wanted his seed, to know the job had been done right.
"Yeah baby, yeah, give it me, give me all that juicy cum. Fuck that ass."
I felt his cock spasm and he began shooting into me. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I
screamed. "That's it baby."

"Oh fuck," he moaned. "Oh fuck yeah." He was holding on to me, the
diminishing waves of orgasm still pulsing through his body. "Oh fuck,
Kristy that was so good."

"Thank you baby."

Frank slid his cock out of me and reached for his clothes. I looked at the
clock. He had arrived around 8:20. It was now 8:47. One hundred and
fifty dollars.

He sat back down, did another line and had a sip of beer. Then he told
Jack he would call him in a couple of days. And then he left.

"See, easy." Jack was looking at me.

I smiled, grabbed my panties and went into the bathroom to clean myself up
and reapply my makeup. I had just taken money for sex - again - only this
time I wasn't acting out of desperation. This time it was premeditated.
My first real trick. I was a whore. These thoughts came blasting into my
head as I tried to keep it together. I was able to, thankfully, and had
just sat back down when there was a knock on the door. There would be no
rest for the wicked.

Adam was no more than 25, supposedly a friend of Jack's (apparently they
all were friends of Jacks) and pretty cute. He was a talker and drank his
whole beer before we got to it. The sex went the same way it had gone with
Frank. I blew him and then he fucked me. Once I got him to stop talking
to me and start touching me we had gone from a kiss to a blowjob to a fuck
to him cumming in 12 minutes. One hundred and thirty dollars. It was
9:25.

Jack asked me how I was holding up. I told him I was a little sore,
nothing major. Inside I was a mess. My emotions were still running high.

Jack told me he had been working his phone and had a couple of guys that
wanted to party around midnight, but the price wasn't high enough - two
hundred for the two of them. He was going to keep working.

Keith was next, arriving promptly at 10. He was in his mid-40's and
overweight. I was not exactly thrilled with him. Overall he was pretty
rough with me, pulling at my hair and slapping my ass. I'll always
remember his fat fingers pinching my thighs as he was fucking me. Even his
cock was fat, which was nice, but it was pretty stubby. He had given Jack
$180 and he wanted to cum on my face for the extra. Fine, coat my face. I
had had that done to me before, so I'll play along.

He pulled out of me at the last second and I spun around, allowing him to
angle his flaring dick at my eyes. Then I took the facial like any whore
should - with a smile on her face. Thankfully the whole ordeal lasted
about 30 minutes and no more.

And that was it. Jack wanted me to wait for another trick late night, but
I was pretty sore and elected to shut it down. We had pulled in $460 in
about two and a half hours. I had the pinch marks and the sore ass to
prove it. I gave him half for the hotel and a quarter of the take and was
left with just under $270.

Jack wasn't happy.

"We'll need to do better, Kristy. I lost money tonight, honey. I want you
to go home and think about what you can do to be better next time. And
make sure you're wearing the corset. And stop fucking eating."

When a guy says that to you; trust me, it's your cue to leave. It didn't
sit very well with me, considering it was my ass that was getting fucked.
I scraped the cocaine back into the baggie, put it into my purse, changed
into a pair of sweats and was out the door without another word.

End Diary Entry

So there it is. My first series of organized tricks. I was so easily led
and innocent. It seems crazy to use the word "innocent" considering the
amount of dick I was getting and the fact that I was now getting paid for
it. But innocent as a prostitute, a hooker - the fact is I didn't know
what I was doing.

I have to admit - the job suited me though. I had a lot of turmoil over
it, but I genuinely think it was a defense mechanism to some degree. It
was exciting and began to occupy my thoughts more and more. It actually
helped my self esteem once I got over the hump and did it and got past the
whole "she's a slut who gives it up for money" thing. Later on it savaged
me, but at the beginning it seemed like a challenge and I took to it
exactly as one would given the situation. How sexy could I be? How much
money could I make? I looked at it as if I was a model - I can't eat, I
have a photo shoot coming up. Only for me it was, I can't eat, I have
booked appointments coming up. I was out of my mind.

Diary Entry: March 2007

I just got off the phone with Jack. The guy is really pretty classic.
He's sticking to the whole "we need to do better" thing, which is fine, but
I don't think he realizes that this is a lot harder on me than it is on
him. He basically needs to sit there and watch me have sex. Yes, he's
doing the setup, which he claims is more difficult than it looks.
Whatever.

So he hit me with this challenge - next weekend, we book the room for two
nights beginning Friday, that way we can go from Friday night through
Sunday morning for just the extra cost of the room for a night.

He also told me we should be interested in groups and parties, since
multiple guys at once will pay more. I told him we needed more blowjobs,
even if it meant less money per trick because I could suck cock all day
long. He didn't agree, he said, because my ass costs more than my mouth
and I need to condition it to be able to take dick after dick without a
problem. He did say he would be stopping by tomorrow night (Tuesday) with
more coke because he wants me to only eat salads, fruit and water for the
next eleven days and the cocaine will keep me from being hungry. He also
wants me to incorporate vigorous workouts into my routine. That's a major
headache for me, because the gym is one of those places that is "iffy" when
it comes to tgirls. I'll have to figure something out to help my girlish
figure. I guess I'm fat in his eyes.

I can't believe Jack wants me to be fucked for a whole weekend. That's
impossible. I'll try it this time and if it's unbearable then I'll just
call it. I'm not Superwoman. I'll need more clothes for the extra hotel
room days. I think I'll try wearing less this time too. Just bring
outfits or lingerie that are made for fucking. One of the guys got cum on
my miniskirt last weekend. I'm not sure I can do this.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2007

This is a battle of wills. My will. I've never been so tested in my life.
It's like I'm in training for the Slut Olympics. I'm barely eating. I'm
running three miles, agonizing through 300 stomach crunches a day and doing
everything I can to get as much exercise as possible without actually
joining a health club. I just don't think I'm quite passable yet for the
gym and the whole locker room thing is t-r-i-c-k-y. I suppose I could just
skip the locker room entirely by racing home to shower when I'm done. I
don't know. Right now the running is my thing and it's working well. I
can run as a girl and pass no sweat jogging down the road. I'm wearing the
corset all the time too, even to work, which is a fucking hard thing to do
without it being spotted. I'm weak from the lack of food from this stupid
diet he wants me on. I may not make it to tomorrow night. I looked up my
meals and I'm on a 450 calorie a day diet coupled with all of that
exercise. It's literally nothing to eat except dry salad and yogurt.
Thank god for the coke.

If I don't write tomorrow, diary, wish me luck!

End Diary Entry

Don't Try This At Home OR You Know You're A Pro When ...

Diary Entry: March 2007

As I write this, I can barely move. It's Monday afternoon. I called in
sick. I think I am sick, like really sick, as if my insides want to come
out. I've never been so burnt, so tired, so sore and so melancholy. I'm
becoming depravity personified. I don't know what to do. Just feels good
to put paper to pen and recap the fucked up things that are happening to
me. Feels sometimes like I'm writing a porno. I'm not trying to, this is
just my life. [Author note: and it was readers - this is real.]

I had agreed with Jack that I would have a go at his weekend idea. I
wasn't certain if I could do it. I wasn't even certain I could spend that
much time in one room. Hell in a cell. When I left work on Friday at 4 I
promised myself I would try my best this weekend and if it didn't work, it
didn't work - no regrets. I also promised myself I would look long and
hard at ever even trying it again whether it worked or not. I don't like
to quit on things and my fear is that if I fail, I'll want another crack at
it. I don't think that's a good idea. I also promised myself that I would
eat something solid on Sunday. Salads and fruit and water and enemas for
eleven days are not a good thing. Given that this is Monday, I will try
and eat something today. I couldn't yesterday. I was too burnt and sore
and fucked up.

I arrived at the hotel on Friday just after 4:30. Jack had gotten there a
few minutes before me. He was excited about the weekend he had planned so
far and figured things would just pick up from there. He had two guys
planned for Friday, one during the day on Saturday and three more that
night. He was also excited about the fact that as the nights wore on and
guys got drunker, he had put enough word out to some non-committals that
those ships with drunken cocks would come in as well.

He did at least tell me my body was looking good. Of course, that's what
happens when you exercise twice a day and don't eat anything. No fucking
shit I look good. I feel weak but I look good. Whatever.

I opened a beer, figuring it would go to my head less than a glass of wine,
as Jack began chopping apart an 8-ball. Then he looked at me and said,
"Now listen - I know you're going to need this and I know you want it, you
- we - just need to be careful that it doesn't go completely out of
control. No overdoses. This is going to be a long weekend, so use your
head."

"I'll need to use my head, because my ass will seemingly always be in use,"
was my joke. He didn't laugh.

I did a few lines before disappearing into the shower. I had brought a big
suitcase of clothes and cosmetics with me so I could be prepared for any
occasion. I ran through my routine - showering, shaving, perfuming, hair,
makeup, glitter for both my body and face, and dressing. I figured this
was going to be a long weekend of sex, so I should keep the clothing
choices skimpy and easily accessible to my money-making parts. I also
promised myself that I was going to try and enjoy this and that my own
satisfaction had to play a role. I needed release too.

I chose a leopard print bikini pushup bra for my top and a pair of leopard
print boy shorts that zipped up the sides for my bottoms so I could just
unzip them and throw them on the floor once it got hot and heavy. Under
the shorts I wore a tight black g-string to pull my clit snug and give me
the right lines. And there I was for the first time with no cincher or
corset. I felt a little self conscious, but if Jack thought I looked
pretty good I had to be doing something right. I completed the outfit with
jet black thigh highs with a seam up the back and black 5" pumps. I also
wore my new Playboy Bunny anklet for the first time. And that was it. I
figured less was more.

Jack approved. He said my body was looking better, which I appreciated.
"Keep wearing the corset. It's like training and you should be able to
cinch it down more and more. But this look works for me without it.
You've definitely lost weight." No fucking shit. Like 7 pounds or
something. How could I not?

I did another line of coke, splitting it between both nostrils, cracked
another beer and waited. Jack kept telling me to pace myself on the coke
and the cigarettes but it was hard because I was nervous. I needed my
first cock to be in the door so I could let my natural instincts take over.

Finally, just after 8:15 there was a knock. I'm going to try and catalog
these guys to the best of my ability because it became a big blur as the
weekend went along.

Marty was first in. He was around 35, blonde and stocky. Decent enough
guy and he definitely liked what he saw. The $150 in the envelope must
have jived because Jack gave me the nod and we were off and running. He
kissed me and I felt my body give in to him the way guys like it. Then he
started to fondle my breasts through my bra. I unhooked it to give him
better access and he suckled on my nipples for a few moments. So sexy and
arousing. Yummy.

"Do you want to take your clothes off, Marty?"

He did ... and then he did, laying down on the bed and spreading his legs
for me. I crawled between them and went to work with my mouth, taking him
inside me and slicking his decent sized cock with my spit as he moaned with
pleasure. Had this been any other time over the weekend, I would have
taken advantage of his passive approach and just sucked him off and had him
out of there, but I felt like I needed to push myself over the edge early
on in the night. That way my openly sexual attitude would come out and I'd
be a fuck machine, so I unzipped my bottoms and slid down my panties. Then
I lubed my pussy while I continued to suck his cock. Finally I slathered
his pole up nice and thick and slid my body up his until his hard 7" prick
was probing at my pussy's entrance.

Marty seemed glad I was taking control, so using my hand as a guide I
worked his swollen cock into my hungry pussy, finally pressing down firm
enough to drive him into me balls deep. I felt the electricity shoot
through me and saw the white light flash before my eyes as my hungry ass
stretched to take the intruder. Marty cried out in ecstasy as I moved in
unison with his hips, undulating my body to his rhythm, the two of us
joined together by his stiff rod deep inside me. I rocked back and forth
on him for a minute before leveraging my 5" spiked heels into the sheets,
straddling him and working the tip of his cock with my slick pussy.

This was go time for me, a pre-planned finishing move to work the tip of
his cock with my cunt opening, heightening his pleasure. He couldn't hold
out much longer and within a few strokes he grunted and moaned and I sat
down on him, taking his full length back into me to the hilt as he shot his
load into me. I let him ride out his cum, leaned forward and kissed him
gently on the lips. Then I climbed off his cock, leaving him naked and
satisfied on the bed. I swayed my way into the bathroom to clean up a
little, all ass sashaying on my 5" spiked heels, and heard him leave before
I was through. Then I walked back out into the hotel room, put my panties
back on and did another line.

David had canceled on Jack while Marty was fucking me but the fat boy Keith
from last week was on his way over. He had negotiated a reduced rate of
$100 from Jack, which did not make me very happy.

"You cut the rate for that guy? It's like we're desperate."

"I'm just trying to fill time, Kristy. We need to keep them coming in and
out."

Keith was the worst of the bunch too. The thigh pincher with the stubby
cock. I was not enjoying this. I zipped up my boy shorts, leaving my bra
off and electing to go topless and waited for el fatso to arrive. He did
about 20 minutes later and it fucking pissed me off to see him waving his
lone hundred dollar bill at me. So rude.

"OK baby. Let's fuck," he hissed as he finished a line of coke. Then he
got up from the chair, grabbed me around the neck, dragged me over to the
bed and through me down on it. Then he spit on me.

"Let's go you fucking dirty whore. I bought you, so suck my cock, bitch."

He grabbed my neck and pulled my head to his cock. I opened my mouth in
submission and he stuffed his dick to the back of my mouth. I gagged twice
before composing myself as he continued to insult me.

"That's it you fucking cunt. Suck Keithy's dick you worthless tramp. Suck
it. Oooh, suck it. Yeah."

I blew him for a while and he wasn't able to get fully erect. Finally,
after working on his semi-rigid prick for about 10 minutes he was able to
get hard and he immediately started pawing at my skin tight tap pants. I
unzipped them, pulled my panties down and opened my ass for him, delighted
only by the thought that some of Marty's cum was still sloshing around
inside of me. Keith wanted it doggie style and only that way, so I lubed
my hole, pressed my face down into the pillow and took what he had to give
me. It took the fucker about 25 more minutes to cum and he was clumsy and
stupid the whole time, slipping out of me on a couple of occasions before
finally establishing some sort of rhythm and reaching his climax as he
pinched my thighs again.

That sex was the first time I felt on the losing end of the money. The
other guys were all pretty decent human beings and fucked me good. Keith is
an asshole, a bad lay and took forever. I wouldn't mind the rough stuff if
it was coming from someone else. I wanted to cry.

To top it all off he made a joke on his way out the door about whacking off
in his car on the way over to make sure he got his money's worth.

I was already a little sore and the weekend had just begun. I sat back down
in my chair, naked save for my thigh highs and heels and did another line.
I could feel the cum dripping out of me and any self-conscious pretense had
clearly faded away. I had no problem sitting there - naked - with
man-juice dripping out of me in front of Jack, who I had only met a few
weeks ago. It was 9:50.

"Good news, Kristy, I've got a group coming in around 10:30 for a party -
three guys for four hundred bucks."

The coke and the sex had begun to take their toll on me. When that
happens, I'm extremely pliable, submissive and horny. I remember saying,
sounds great Jack, I can't wait. I got up from my chair and made my way to
the bathroom to clean up and retouch my makeup. Coming out of the bathroom
I was already a bit of a wobbly mess. I hung in there though, and I don't
think Jack noticed. Around 10:40, my party of three showed up.

"Get the fuck out, that's a guy!" shouted one of them on the way in. They
hooted and hollered.

"Kristy, these are the guys," Jack said. They were Aaron, Brad and Dave,
all around 30 and I could tell they were definitely rolling on coke too.

We made some small talk and they were having a beer when Dave said
something about putting me to work. They paid Jack, no problem, and he
gave them the - "she's all yours" - and then Dave took out his cock and
gestured me over to the bed. I licked my painted lips and crawled on my
hands and knees to his cock, which I took down my throat in one swift
motion, to the delight of the other two guys. They loved seeing my lips
mashed up against his pubic root. Soon Dave was moaning with delight as I
felt other hands feeling my ass and reaching between my legs to my clit.

Holy shit, I can feel it, said one of them as they fumbled with the side
zipper on my shorts.

They wanted to see me naked, so I helped them with the zipper, stood up and
pulled down my panties, taking the time to let the floss in my ass stick to
my bottom for a moment before the fabric slid down my stocking clad legs.
My clit bobbed in front of them.

"I cannot fucking believe she's a dude!" they shouted to one another.
"Fucking A!"

"She's good and ready for you boys," Jack offered.

They laid me down on the bed, just me in my thigh highs and heels and began
to play with my nipples as Aaron moved to begin massaging my clit. It felt
heavenly having that many hands and mouths on me and I am so glad I allowed
myself to be taken in that way. I felt my legs being pressed to my chest
as Aaron began to rim my pussy. Dave pressed his tongue down my throat as
Brad fought for room to caress and lightly pinch my nipples. I caught a
glimpse of Jack watching all of this and it turned me on even more.

Aaron was a rimming expert and I could feel the hunger burning inside my
cunt as the thought of the other two cocks I had taken that night filled my
brain. Such dirty, dirty boys.

I heard one of them say we should start fucking her and before long I felt
the familiar grease on my ass as (I think) Brad slid into me. Being the
third cock I'd had that night, he slid right into me and the familiar
fullness in my bottom rushed back, bringing with it all of the same
emotional and sexual bliss. I was on my back, staring at my nylon-encased
legs and my 5" pumps, getting fucked by some young stud for money while his
two buddies looked on in anticipation, four hundred cold steel dollars
having paid for the privilege of fucking my plump and ready behind. Never
had I felt so good. I was in a state of rapture as Brad's delicious cock
drove in and out of me. Aaron had placed his cock near my mouth and I took
him into me as I reached for Dave's hard shaft. I now had one in my ass,
one in my mouth and one in my hand, the perfect portrait of t-slut
whorishness. I was being taken like a harlot and I loved every minute.

Brad was a skilled cocksman and I was soon in a full state of delirium,
swooning from his attack as his stiff rod rubbed against my prostate on
each thrust. I never wanted it to end and thankfully, he continued to
drive his gorgeous cock into me long and hard while Aaron pulled out of my
mouth and returned my favors, wrapping his lips around my clit while Dave
moved to my breasts. I could feel my own climax building and resolved to
make sure each of these giving, generous and gorgeous men were handsomely
rewarded for making me feel so good. It didn't take my little clit long to
reach oblivion under this type of assault and a short time later I screamed
in ecstasy and came inside Aaron's mouth, so thankful that he took me in
like that and had the courage to swallow a tgirl hooker's sweet cream.

They all switched places and now Dave was inside me and Brad was feeding me
his cock - my first ass to mouth experience and I was thankful that I
tasted sweet and glad the enemas and fruits had left my cunt awash in
cleanliness and honey. Another barrier smashed.

Aaron muscled his cock into my mouth as I continued to lick Brad, leaving
me completely crammed by two cocks and gasping for air as Dave slammed into
me with abandon. Seconds later he grunted and came deep inside my pussy.

Brad was next to continue the pounding, fucking me long and deep and
seemingly unconcerned that his cock was splashing into Dave's love juice
with each thrust. His pole was long, slender and delicious. Aaron pulled
his cock away from my hungry mouth, announcing he wanted do lines of coke
off of me and then fuck me senseless. OK by me.

A moment later Brad's orgasm began to build and he drove his hard cock into
my prostate as my own orgasmic tide began to rise. I wanted it, wanted to
cum with this man, this glorious man who was pounding me like the slut I am
and I felt the buildup and release take me away as my clit leaked its
watery prize and my body reveled in its sexual awakening. As I pitched and
rode my orgasm it sent Brad over the edge and soon his hot seed was filling
my open cunt to the brim with his slick man-juice. I was a cum dumpster
now, it was in me and on me and I was alive in the moment and running on
pure sexual adrenaline. They could do anything they wanted to me.

"Get that fucking body open," demanded Aaron.

I felt their hands pull mine over my head. Then my legs were spread
slightly as the white powder was applied to my tits and pubic area.
Moments later there were three hungry straws taking the powder off of my
body. When they were finished, each one licked and sucked the powdery
residue from their respective areas. Aaron insisted I do a line off of his
cock before he fucked me, so more of their coke was produced and arranged
on his dick as I crawled on my hands and knees over to his 8", coke coated
monster. I blew the line and then sucked his cock into my mouth, feeling
the numbness of the drug on my lips. Then he pushed me gently onto the bed
and hoisted my legs over his shoulders before sliding into my gaping, cum
slicked hole. I had my arms at my sides and pushed my bottom up against
him on each inward thrust. I felt his hands take my clit and he began
rubbing me in rhythm with his fucking. I was grateful for the time he
spent on my sexual enjoyment and I swooned when I felt my love button
nearing a third climax. I think I had a small one in my ass when Aaron
reached his own dizzying cum and my head went completely numb from the
buzzing of my orgasms - front and back. I rode out my own waves and let
Aaron ride his crest until he finally pulled his shrinking cock from my cum
drenched ass.

Then they flipped me over and told me to reach back and hold onto my heels,
and in one of the hottest displays of male sexuality and confidence I have
ever witnessed, each one lovingly laid out another line of their coke on my
ass cheeks and inhaled it deeply into their noses just an inch or two from
my spunk-filled, wide open pussy. I was delirious and awash in sexual
fever. I could have gone on and on with them fucking me for days.

The problem with cocaine, especially when you have a lot of it in your
system and a lot of it at your disposal, is that it keeps you awake and
keeps making you want more and more. That was the problem after my
glorious threesome had left. I knew I should shut it down for the night.
I wanted to. But it was just after midnight and Jack's phone was lighting
up from texts and emails from party boys and drunks who wanted in on my
action. I should have said no, but I just kept going.

First it was Dan, then Steve, then Alex. Each had their way with me over
the course of the next few hours. I believe it was Steve, the 40-ish nerdy
type, who had a big, thick 9" cock and drove me to cum soaked delirium for
the fourth (fifth?) time that night. Never had my pussy felt so open.

At some time around 4 in the morning, I closed up shop on my cunt, showered
and finally went to bed. My kitty had earned us over a grand in one night.
The last thing I remember was Jack crawling into bed beside me. He told me
I smelled like cum.

On Saturday, Jack woke me up around 11 with a small line of cocaine. I had
two hours to get ready for my first trick of the day. I showered and
primped and then selected an outfit - a cherry red push up bra, matching
g-string, a gray plaid school girl's skirt, black fishnet stockings and 5"
cherry red fuck me pumps with ankle straps. I elected to go with a black
and heavy amount of eye liner, black, gray and white shadow and painted my
lips a fiery red before applying glitter to them, my hair and my body. It
may have been an afternoon date, but I was painted up like 2AM.

Gerry arrived promptly at 1. Jack had told me he thought it would be a
regular suck and fuck for $150, but when Gerry got there he had other
ideas. I learned this just after we were introduced.

"Does she like water sports?" he asked Jack while still in my presence as
if I didn't even exist. I suppose to him I didn't. I was a toy. Just an
open hole. Nothing more.

"She likes everything if the price is right." Jack smiled at me.

"A real whore, then, huh? Is that what you are honey - a real whore?"

"That's right, Gerry."

"Tell me then. Tell me you're a whore. A cock whore - and by the looks of
it a coke whore too."

I couldn't bring myself to it, could I? Is that what I was?

I stammered. Then the words came out. "I'm a whore Gerry. I'm a cock
whore. And I'm a coke whore."

"You'll do anything, won't you baby?"

"I'll do anything for you honey," I cooed.

"Feed her Jack. Feed her the fucking coke so she can feel whole again."

Jack grabbed the coke and got to his feet.

"Wait one second," Gerry said. He reached for the CD case Jack had been
chopping line on since the weekend started. He placed it on the floor.
"Let me do it." Gerry placed the CD case and the coke on the floor. "Get
on your knees you fucking bitch."

I dropped to my knees as Gerry chopped out 3 huge lines on the case. He
put it on the floor in front of me and handed me the straw. The lines were
barely chopped and full of rocks.

"This one," he said, pointing at it. I hesitated, staring at the lines.
Is this what I have become?

"Do it bitch, feed the fucking dragon. It's all you're good for."

I was on my hands and knees, staring at the coke, my insides at a rolling
boil over what to do. Give in. Give in. Be what they want. It's what
you want. I wanted the degradation.

I leaned over and did half the line with my right nostril and the other
half with my left. It was massive and my nose felt of fire.

"That's a good little coke whore. Now this one." I did the second in
blind, silent humiliation. I was a whore. Nothing more. My nose was
running. I hoped it wasn't blood.

"Jesus Gerry," said Jack. "Don't kill her."

"Nah, little faggot bitch like Kristy. Little fucking coke whore, she
loves it - don't you whore?"

I managed to whimper out a "yes." The coke was burning in my nose, burning
into my brain.

"Now this one." I bore down, my head on the carpet and did the third. I
sniffed and snuffed it all in but couldn't manage to keep the mucus from
running out of my nose. Still on my hands and knees I looked up at Gerry,
the snot running into my mouth. I was completely degraded.

"That's a good little fuck slut. Show me those fucking tits, girl."

My mind was whirling. I was on overload.

"Hold on," Jack stepped in. "I need three hundred and then you can have
your way with her." My brain was foggy from the huge influx of drugs into
my system. I hadn't eaten anything and was living on alcohol and cocaine.
Did he just barter my ass for $300 or was there more to it?

Gerry slapped the money down. "Now let me see those tits."

I took off my bra and he began to rub my nipples, pinching them to an erect
state.

"Take off that fucking skirt." I did.

"And the panties too you fucking slut." I did. I was. I am.

I handed the panties to Gerry. He used them to wipe my nose. Then he
stuffed them into my mouth.

"Little fucking boy clitty, probably can't even get hard anymore," Gerry
sneered. "Tell you what, you fucking cunt. If you can get that little
fucking thing hard, I'll skip the sex and just leave you the money. If
not, well, you're fucking mine and three hundred won't even come close.
Rub that fucking little dick for me, you slut, rub it till it's hard and
make it spunk. You have two minutes."

I didn't know what to do. I looked at Jack but he was no help. There I
was, in thigh highs and heels on my knees in front of this man, this
terrible man, my little clit a mess from all the drugs and hormones and sex
and alcohol.

"Go ahead you fucking whore. Rub it. Get it hard for me. I bet you
can't," he sneered. "A bitch like you can only get hard with a dick in
your ass. You fucking need this," he was grabbing at the front of his
pants. I began to rub and pull at my clit. It was only about an inch long
at this point, shrunken from fear and shriveled from the drugs.

"Rub it baby, that's right, you little fucking twink. Baby can't even get
hard anymore."

I began furiously pulling at my cockette, but it just wouldn't grow. I
began to cry.

"There it is. There's the tears. Little fucking faggot just wants a real
man all day because she's not one anymore. Cry for me you fucking slut."

The tears were streaming down my face as I tugged at my little clit.
Nothing was going to work.

"Time!" Gerry called. "Dumb slut."

Then he unzipped his pants and stuck his dick into my face. "Now suck me,
bitch."

I opened up for him, thankful that I was sucking a cock and hoping the
degradation had stopped. I was wrong.

"That's it Kristy. Good bitch. Such a good little whore with your painted
lips wrapped around my cock. Tell me you like my cock baby."

"I lub you cock," I mumbled with his dick in my mouth.

I was on my knees in my stockings and heels sucking Gerry for all he was
worth when he stopped me, lifted me up and put me on the bed.

"Open those legs and let me see that fucking hole."

I got on my hands and knees, pushed my face into a pillow, reached back and
opened myself to him, spreading my cheeks with the fingers on my right
hand.

"Look at that open cunt. How many cocks have you had inside you, girl.
Have you had lots of cocks, slut?"

"Yes sir," I warbled through fresh tears. "I've had lots of cocks in me."

"I like that. Sir. You should keep calling me sir."

He slapped my ass. Then I felt the cooling, seductive grease on my asshole
and Gerry drove into me with one massive thrust. I cried out but he didn't
care. He fucked me hard and deep, with aggression and without concern for
my own pleasure. He was using me. Using his whore, fucking me deep, sawing
against my prostate with each thrust. My head swam.

I rode out the storm, digging my 5" spikes into the sides of his legs.
Gerry took his hands off my hips and began to slap violently at my ass and
sides with every stroke, pounding into me for all it was worth, ramming
into my prostate as my pussy reached its peak and my clit began to betray
me by spraying its watery milk with each violent thrust. "Fuck you," my
head screamed. "Stop cumming. Stop the squirting. Do not give into this
man!" But I had. I had given in to his will. He owned me until he was
done with me. I could feel my little cockette continuing to spray,
continuing to betray me as the tears rolled down my face.

"What a fucking slut you are," Gerry sneered. "You fucking like it."

"No," I breathed through clenched teeth. "No, I don't"

"Yeah? Then what is this then, huh?"

Gerry had rubbed his hand over the sheets and was smearing my cum on my
face.

"What is this?"

He grabbed at my cockette as the streams continued to be fucked out of me
with each thrust. He collected it in his hand as another orgasm took me.

"What is this then, you fucking whore?" he taunted as he stuck his hand
into my mouth, feeding me my own cum. I wanted to bite him, I really did,
but I was beaten. He had beaten me and I had accepted my fate and would
have done anything he wanted.

I could feel him hardening inside me to the breaking point, that little
extra size that only a cock about to burst gets. Soon he had his hands
back on my hips and was railing into me with all his might.

"I'm going to cum on your face you little fucking cunt. I'm going to cum
all over that whore face. When I tell you, you spin around and take it
like a fucking slut."

He drove into me a few more times before he gave the word and pulled out.
I spun around as he had commanded and he angled his massive cock head at
me. After 2 quick strokes of his hand, a steady stream of cum came roping
out of his dick as he gasped in ecstasy. Each stream covered different
areas of my face as some splashed into my eyes, others onto my nose and
some onto my lips. Then he pushed the back of my head forward, I
instinctively opened my mouth and he rammed his dick down my throat.

"Clean that fucking cock," he said as I licked it, gasping for air, my nose
running down my face, mixing with his cum.

He got off the bed in an instant and grabbed my arm roughly to follow him
into the bathroom. He whipped the shower curtain back and threw me into
the tub.

"Get on your fucking knees, bitch." I did as he commanded, still breathing
heavy from the intense fucking he had given me.

Now I was in the bathtub on my knees as he again angled his cock towards my
face. I should have put it all together and known what was coming from a
million miles away. But the drugs and the insanity of the weekend had
taken my senses away and it finally dawned on me too late.

"No!" I cried. "No, please."

"Fucking beg me you cunt. Now hold your breath."

"No please!"

"Beg me," he shouted.

"Please!"

"Hold your fucking breath, cunt!"

I did as he commanded and a second later the urine began splashing onto me,
coating my already cum soaked face. He pissed all over me; my face, my
hair, my tits, my clit, and it all pooled and then ran down the shower
drain. Even my stockings and heels were wet.

When Gerry was done he told me to open my eyes. I did, to find him looking
down and smiling at me.

"Beautiful," he said. "Just like a whore should look. Now that was some
fucking sex," he said, to no one in particular. I smiled. I can't believe
it, but I smiled. This man had just degraded me worse than anyone ever
before and for a time I smiled at him. Satisfy the client. I was a
fucking whore. I was everything he called me.

He walked out of the bathroom. Once alone, I curled up for a moment in the
pee soaked tub. It was gross. I was gross. But I needed a moment. I
heard him talking to Jack. On his way out he stopped to say goodbye,
smiling at my fetal position in the spot of his golden shower. The he
left, done using me and now throwing me away.

I couldn't even face Jack after what had just happened, so I took my heels
off and slid my pee-soaked thigh highs down and turned on the shower water.
Jack came in a few minutes later.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"I had a trick that wanted to come in at 2, that's 10 minutes from now.
But I told him we could do 3:30 and he agreed. Oh, and Gerry left an extra
hundred because he thought he might have ruined your shoes." Then he
turned and left.

If I was an amateur whore yesterday, it was clear I was a pro today. I had
been fucked silly by countless guys and the last one had just pissed all
over me ... and now I had a 3:30?

I finished my shower and stepped out, looking at myself in the mirror. My
eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep. I looked like hell. The
emotional toll of what had just happened hit me like a freight train. I
slumped against the counter and began to cry again. I'm a whore. Guys
fuck me for money and it is clear I will do whatever they tell me to do. I
have no limits. I couldn't get that thought out of my head. Do I have no
limits? I cried so hard I made no sound. I broke.

Ten minutes later I pulled myself up, dried off and wrapped a towel around
my head. I'd need my other identical wig since the first one was covered
in piss. I could do this. I had to do this. I had to see the weekend
through.

The shower caused me to basically have to start from scratch, so I darkened
my eyes again and plumped my lips. Then I started the assembly line of
trashy slut clothing again. I went with a matching set of electric blue
bra and g-string and put a pair of electric blue boy short panties over the
g-string. I finished it off with a strappy pair of 4" Bandolino stilettos.
I left my legs bare and brought them (and the rest of me) to a shine with
baby oil. By 3:05 I was done and back at the table waiting for my next
dick.

Chris, my 3:30 was early, no surprise considering he wanted to be there at
2, so by 3:15 I was laying on the bed while he fucked my face with his
stiff 7" cock. Clearly the time he spent waiting had really brought his
juices to a boil, because he pulled my face off of his cock and then slung
my legs (heels still on) over his shoulders, lubed his dick and fucked me
for about three minutes before blowing his load inside my cunt. He was in
and out in less than 20 minutes.

The pain from Gerry's treatment and all of my realizations slammed into me
again. I felt the tears well up and I willed them back, the battle raging
inside of me. I would be OK. I had to be OK. A tgirl's life is not for
the faint of heart, so to be a tgirl hooker required a special set of
uterus that I needed to show itself right then. I had to get back on top
of my emotions.

I cleaned the cum out of my ass the best I could without having to take
another shower, put my panties and boy shorts back on and waited for my
next assignment. Jack told me the schedule was clear until 7 and that I
should rest. I couldn't. The drugs would see to that. Jack had to run
out so he left me alone with the coke and the booze, telling me on his way
out the door that my 7:00 was a t-girl and her boyfriend, and the guy was
interested in watching us use a double together, so Jack was on his way to
get one. Good by me. I'd take the dildo in my cunt. I'd do the work.
Fucking Jack, all he does is sit at the desk with his phone and his
computer negotiating with guys for the right to fuck my pussy. Whatever.
I was glad for the break.

By the time Jack got back I was completely fucked up from the drugs. I had
had at least 5 more lines and several beers. I hadn't eaten. He claims I
offered to let him fuck me. I don't remember that. He said I was
basically overdosing on coke at this point, not in a you're-going-to-die
way, but in a you've-done-too-much-and-now-your-brain-is-fucked way.

I do remember most of my 7:00 appointment. I was wearing my blue boy
shorts and bra with a pair of 5" clear stilettos. The tgirl, Allison, was
pretty, not gorgeous, but certainly pretty, while her boyfriend Charles was
one of those stocky types. He wasn't a bad guy. For $250 he wanted
Allison and I to do as he said. Fine by me. She took off her clothes
without much prompting - she was flat-chested but smooth and soft. I was
OK with her body. He wanted Allison to peel my clothes off, which she did,
and made sure we each left our heels on. Then he wanted us to 69 for a
little while. We kissed for a few moments and I could tell she was
nervous, but by the time we curled up on the bed and I took her clit in my
mouth, she began to relax and just go with the feelings.

I was so completely fucked up at this point from the sex and the drugs that
I just let my body and mind drift. I sucked her clit and soon I looked
over and Charles was rubbing his cock on us. We switched positions and
began to both work on his stiff shaft, sharing it between our mouths. Then
he wanted us to use the double, so we both lubed up and while Allison was
staring at Charles through passionate eyes, I was staring right at Jack as
one half of the double sided monster slid into my pussy. I stared at him
because I wanted him to see what I was becoming. It was like a cry for
help. I was fucked up, my nose running from all the coke that I had done,
while random dick after dick plowed into me. Allison and I each fucked
into the double for a few minutes before Charles demanded we each take it
all the way in. I give Allison credit, she was a trooper. We each bore
down and before long all 20" of the monster was either inside her or inside
me.

"That's it girls, grind those crotches."

I began to move my hips in a circle, grinding my cockette and pussy into
Allison as she pushed back against me. I moaned out through gritted teeth
as my clit came alive. The dildo was huge inside of me. The two of us
were hard and Charles began rubbing our clits, sometimes mashing them
together and jerking them with one hand. It felt divine and my head swam.

"That's it, you dirty sluts."

"Yeah," I cooed. "I'm a dirty fucking slut. Oooh."

Charles gripped our girlish cocks in each hand and began to piston them up
and down as I rammed my ass against Allison, straining for every last inch
of the dildo. She was clenched on it and I used that leverage to work my
pussy up and down on the 20" monster as best I could.

"Oh baby, yeah. Oh fuck. Oh honey fuck, yeah that feels so good," I
cried.

Allison began to spurt as Charles' hands continued their assault. I could
feel the warm cum spattering all over and soon my body was awash in my own
clitoral orgasm as the warmness rushed through me and the watery liquid
from my cockette let go.

Charles was not finished with us. He made Allison and I kiss for a few
moments before he lined us up on the bed, facing the headboard, ass up and
face down, offering our gaping holes to his cock. No lube was needed after
the dildo and he slammed his stiff meat into me with one shove, fucking me
fast and hard for about 30 seconds before he took his cock from me and
plunged it into Allison. He repeated the process again, driving deep into
my backside for all he was worth as Allison mewled and waited for her next
turn. She got it soon enough and before long Charles was cumming deep
inside his girl's ass, lost in euphoric bliss.

Once he came to, he told me to lick his cum from Allison's love bucket. I
gently tongued her delicate pussy full of his musky load for about 5
minutes. Then they were gone.

And so on and on it went. Gary, Chris, another Chris and Ronny, who had a
cock that was at least 10" long, pounding into me deep into the night.
More lines, more drinks. I couldn't sleep Saturday night and finally fell
asleep early Sunday morning. By then we needed to check out in a few hours
so there was no rest for me. The room was a wreck. I was a wreck. I
hadn't left it in 40 hours. It smelled of sex and cum and sweat. The
towels were soaked and caked with makeup and cum. None of them could
possibly be ever used again. Just the eye shadow and mascara alone had
smeared them black all over.

After paying Jack for the room I walked away with over seventeen hundred
dollars. I had had 15 different cocks inside of me.

End Diary Entry

Fucked up stuff. At that point, I was pretty much gone. You can't cram
that much decadence, let alone that many cocks, into a weekend and then
just go back to a normal routine. As I read my journal entries following
that experience, it was clear that I was trying to do just that. I went
back to work on Tuesday, still without having had any solid food. I was
shaking and weak. It's like my brain couldn't switch off and my body was
paying the price. My nose was a mess from all the coke. My legs were
bruised. My tits hurt. My whole body was sore.

Diary Entry: April 2007

Jack called. He wants to do the same thing this coming weekend. I told
him I'd think about it. I love the money and being desired. I'm just not
sure I can go through with that again so soon. I can barely move.

End Diary Entry

But I did go through with it. I did it again that weekend and the one
after it and the one after that. By my count, I took over 60 cocks during
that time. Hard and dripping cocks fucking my wide open pussy, cumming
inside me, cumming on me, taking me to places I could never have imagined.
Work became a place I would go to pass the time, nothing more. I was a
tranny Sisyphus, only my uphill rock was a pursuit of feminine perfection
and sex appeal that no amount of cock or coke could quell.

Diary Entry: May 2007

I crossed another line. What the hell is wrong with me? I got home from
work last night and I could hear my coke stash calling me. Yet another
week night? But I had some wine and I did some lines and before I knew it
I was on Craigslist advertising my "services" to whoever wanted them. I
posted the ad and then jumped in the shower to prepare myself. By the time
I was finished I had about 20 responses. I weeded a bunch out and then set
John up for 8PM ($100) and Mark up for 10 ($90). It was clear that both of
them were interested in a quick fuck rather than anything resembling a
date, so I slipped on a pink bra and slid pink lace boy shorts over my
white gaff. I darkened my eyes with Lancome and used a blend of dark grey
and pink shadow. I painted my lips a heavy, hot pink and glittered them
up. Then I completed my trampy look with pair of 5" silver pumps and
waited. I still can't fucking believe I did this at my apartment.

John was there just after 8 and I had his cock in my mouth three minutes
later. A delicious 7" tube of meat with some nice girth, and even better,
once we got down to it he only fucked me doggie for a few moments before he
rolled me over and fucked me missionary. I love being able to look them in
the eyes, seeing their knowing sparkle that I am theirs, that I am their
plaything. Then he decided he wanted me on top, so we rolled over and I
got to ride that delicious stick at my pace, angling it just right to
engage my prostate fully. Fucking glorious and I came so fucking good, my
milk dripping from my clit with each luscious thrust. He was blown away
that I can come like that. He smelled so good too. Even his cock smelled
like fresh linens. I would definitely see this guy again.

John was gone by 9 and Mark was inside me an hour later. It was a typical
transaction fuck - a little small talk, the money exchange, he took off his
clothes, I sucked his dick, he took off my clothes, he lubed me and then he
fucked me doggie. It was OK. Neither guy asked me if I had any condoms
and they didn't bring any themselves. Stupid on my part, but how the fuck
is Jack checking these guys, anyway? He's not, and I do in fact love to
feel a good stiff dick explode inside of my pussy, so what the hell?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: June 2007

Jack was over tonight with a new corset. He says I have to buy my own next
time. This one has more boning and cinches down even tighter than the
other one. More boning for my boning, so I can get boned. Basic black in
color and will go with anything. But it is so tight! I can barely fucking
breathe in the thing and I'm already used to wearing a corset. How the
hell does a newbie do this? He also wants me to get more laser surgery for
hair removal. I don't have any hair! He says he can see it sometimes
after a late night. The guy is bad for my self esteem.

Diary Entry: June 2007

Well, the time is here. I'm going to come out to my family. This is going
to suck and I fear the worst but I feel like I have to do it. Kristy is
me, there's no other way around it.

End Diary Entry

Daddy's Little Girl OR You Did What?

I remember this period like it was yesterday. The feelings and guilt I had
about not telling my family had been eating me up inside for a while and I
felt like I had to do something. I wanted everyone there - mother, father,
brother, sister-in-law, sister, brother-in-law, so it took me some time to
coordinate the night around everyone's schedules. It ended up taking
almost a week to put together and my emotions were a wreck leading up to
it. I wanted it all out in the open in one shot, without using my parents
as a go-between. I'm not sure I did it the right way or even if there is a
right way, but I did it my way.

It's funny to me as I read these diaries just how much of "me" is in them.
Could I be more narcissistic? The looming issue of telling my parents or
family or my job was with me throughout much of this time and yet I wrote
about it very little. A couple of entries here or there, most of which
aren't published here for the simple fact that they're pretty boring and
just little notes. I was way more interested in writing about my
sexcapades. And shoes. I have a ton of stuff in here about shoes that
couldn't be more useless. Anyway, here's an excerpt of a family focused
entry taken from a couple of months before this that I find interesting
since I'm on the topic:

... It would be nice if there would come a day when I could just be one of
the girls. Just Mom, [my sister], [my sister-in-law] and me sitting around
a coffee table talking about the news of the day. Each of us with a glass
of wine, looking pretty and just being girls. Could that day actually
happen? Acceptance is a tricky thing. I wonder, and this sounds shallow,
if they would have the decency to love me the same if I made the
transition, but did it poorly. If I got fat or stopped the hormones and
the hair removal and just let myself go, would they see me the same? I
envision myself sitting with them and when I do, I see myself looking good,
being pretty, being a girly-girl and being able to get down to brass tacks
about girl stuff. My voice is pitch perfect and I look great. Would it
matter if I was ugly? Will it matter if I'm pretty? Does that matter at
all? And why is that important to me? ...

Telling stuff, I think. Is my entire existence based on acceptance? Where
is my self esteem level? Tough question to answer.

Diary Entry: June 2007

Fucking laser surgery resumes tomorrow. I'm all stubbly because I have to
let the hair grow so they can zap it. I feel so gross. To top it all off
I ate a frozen pizza for dinner. Right now I'm Kent Dorfman; fat, drunk
and hairy is no way to go through life. This sucks. One pizza and I feel
like I weigh 300 pounds. Jack would fucking kill me if he knew I ate it.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: June 2007

A lot of reflection going on right now. I could barely concentrate at work
today. I think this whole "coming out to my family" thing has me tied in
knots. I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I've managed to get to
this point as Kristy; how it started, why it started, why I didn't do it
sooner. I remember back to the Hustler Magazines I used to look at. It's
funny, even then Playboy was never my thing. Even then I liked the sluts
better, the ones that were never afraid to show their cooze to the world.
The ones with the slutty eyes that seemed to say, "if you want me, you can
have me." You just knew those girls were down for a good fuck all the
time. Thinking about those girls and just wanting to be one of them.
Desired.

I was thinking about the amount of boy-cum I used up flipping through those
magazines, not even desiring the women, but desiring what it must have felt
like to them to have men wanting you. I can't believe I was so blind to
all of these signs for so long. Playing it up, dating girls (what a joke),
being a guy. It's just not ... me. I'm a high heeled party girl and there
ain't no way around it. Who could ever think that a reaction to magazine
would have started me down this path? Granted, I realize it's more than
that, much more and it comes from deep inside, but I have to admit, they
played a role. Larry Flynt ... who knew?

Everything around me now is feminine; from my clothing to my skin to the
candles in my bathroom. I remember the first dick I sucked like it was
yesterday. I remember the first time I put on a wig and saw it completely
transform my face into something else. I remember the very first time I
wore breast forms. Bought at the [one and only local tgirl shop] and they
were C cups. Fucking crazy that I had bigger boobs then than I have now.
Granted, I had to cover them up because they were fake rather than letting
them fly like I do now, but still, I need bigger tits!! Thinking about the
first time I used press on nails and trying to get the damn glue off. What
a nightmare. So funny to think about now.

That first night I went out. God I was so nervous. I remember talking to
Shelly and she told me I should shave every spec of hair off of my body.
Leave nothing. Eventually I did and now I'm doing laser and have plucked
my brows into short, sexy arches. You were right Shelly.

Experimenting with makeup, all those nights with Shauna just messing around
and trying to get the look down. I think about all the shopping I've done
and how I'd be nervous to buy a pair of thigh highs from Kohl's when I was
in boy mode, as if they even cared enough to look at what I was buying. So
crazy to think about how far I have come. And so depressing to think about
how far I still have to go. I can't wait to lose the wigs, more weight,
get my breasts done, my lips, maybe pierce my nipples, facial surgery, the
list goes on and on. Can I really succeed as a girl?

I suppose at this point my B cup boobs are pretty much the answer. There's
no going back. Not that I want to. I just used to enjoy the journey. Now
part of me just wants it to be over. To be done with the work and the
day-to-day. I think it used to be more fun. I think I need to see someone
and talk to them about this. Maybe talk to them about the hooking and the
drugs. Something. I feel like it's me against the world right now.

End Diary Entry

Interesting to read that entry. If you asked me before I saw it I would
have said that I was so focused on being a good time girl that I wouldn't
have made any room for those sorts of feelings. I'm actually relieved in a
way to know that they were there. I was definitely confused and feeling
melancholy and there's some woe-is-me in there too. Fun to reminisce
though. That part is great. I think we as tgirls owe it to one another to
pool our knowledge and write a giant "How To" manual for any new girls. We
owe it to them. This is hard stuff, hard work and it isn't always fun and
you see the bad side of people quite a lot - but the payoff if you're
sincere about it cannot be overvalued. It's insanely good for the soul to
be who you are and be comfortable with that.

Diary Entry: July 2007

It's done. Fuck. Where to begin? I invited my entire family over for
appetizers and drinks instead of dinner because I wanted it to be less
formal. I think it worked because [my brother] and [his wife] ended up
leaving shortly after I made the announcement, something he might not have
done had we had a formal sit-down type dinner. Anyway, let me back up.

I decided to dress down and as much like my old self as I can at this point
considering I have no hair on my body, pierced ears, high arched brows,
size B tits, supple hips and weigh way less than the average guy my size.
For that I went with jeans (women's), a baggy button down shirt and flip
flops. My toes are painted plum. I left that part of me uncovered because
I felt (and still feel) like my family needed to be able to see part of me,
part of what I am. Had I just thrown on some mythical pair of work boots
and didn't have my earrings in and thrown on a Red Sox cap it would have
been harder for them to even grasp what I was saying. I have read a lot of
information about our community coming out to their wives or family and it
is strongly advised the t-chick not just pop out of some corner all
hoochie-mama'd up and ready to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.
Reports are that never goes well. I respect that and think it makes sense
but I figured this way would be enough for them to dip a toe in and see
... something.

[Author's note: I think it's important for me to say something about my
family so they're not just faceless people. Regardless of the way my story
ends - and I'm talking big picture here, the way it ends years and years
from now, not the way these diaries read - a reader needs to understand
something: my parents are awesome. They both grew up outside of Boston,
were high school sweethearts and are still married. Both graduated college
at a time when very few people even went. My Dad was a project manager, my
Mom a grade school teacher. He did a six year stint in the army after
college and they moved around a little bit as a result before settling back
in Massachusetts to raise a family. They raised three kids; my older
brother, older sister and me. My father was a self made man, not rich but
providing for us enough that we all went to college on his dime and leaving
a surplus for himself that allowed him to retire early. His Dad moved
rocks for a living, so I give the man a ton of credit. And all the while
Mom was by his side, raising us and doing her part. They're a great team.
Dad could be a bit of a grouch when he was working, but once he retired,
which he had done in 2004, he became a new man; happy, smiling, loving.

My mother is one of those outspoken ladies who has an opinion on
everything. She's a smart lady and she'll let you know that. Drives me
nuts sometimes because she has a pretty negative view on a lot of things
... here's an example: if I told my family I bought a Ferrari they'd all be
excited, want to see it, touch it drive it, etc ... my Mom would simply say
"people die in those things." It's kind of funny in a way. She's such a
ball-buster (not very ladylike I know, but that's the word that describes
her best). But she has her good points too and I know she loves me.

My brother is kind of a douche. Not in a Chet-from-Weird-Science way, but
just kind of a self-centered guy who is content to talk about himself a lot
and not talk about you very much at all. He's not mean or anything, just a
douche. He's always been a pretty big dink to me about the whole
transition thing and I get it to a point. He had a brother and then I
disappeared. I understand. But still, if you love someone enough that
you're deeply bothered by their disappearance, wouldn't you try to make an
effort when your brother (me) becomes your sister? Still the same person
you loved. But he can't do it. I'm not persona non grata, but we're not
tight. I've tried too, but he's not really interested.

In an awesome bit of irony, a couple years after this, I ran into one of
his friends at a bar one night, he hit on me and I let him fuck me. My bro
doesn't know that it happened, but his friend obviously does. Knew it was
me too (once I told him) and he still stuck his dick inside of me and
fucked me good. He had the hottest cum I have ever felt. Just molten man
juice warming all of my insides. Good kisser too. Totally made my nips
hard. What happened to that guy?

My sister is pretty great. She's the one who over time really gave me a
chance, gave us the chance to get to know each other as girls. She's the
one I'm closest to fulfilling my hope of sitting around gabbing like chicks
about pop culture or sex or something. We're getting close. We do it on
the phone from time to time. She's all good for the most part. I say that
because she's also the one who knows more of my story than anyone. She
doesn't approve and she only knows a little, so I could only imagine her
shock and disapproval if she knew I was taking 7 or 8 cocks on some Tuesday
night when business is booming.]

Back to the diary entry ...

Thankfully my parents were the first to arrive. Telling my parents was
going to be hard but I felt like if anyone was going to at least look
towards the root of my emotions - does this make you happy? Is this truly
what you feel like? - it would be them. My mother noticed my painted toes
immediately and gave me a "what the hell?" type of comment but I was able
to put her off for a few minutes by telling her we could all talk about it
together. She wasn't pleased with that, but what are you gonna do?

Before long my brother and sister and their spouses were there. I got
everyone a glass of wine and then over the cheese plate I dropped the
Kristy-bomb.

"Look guys, there something that's been going on for a while and been on my
mind for a while that I need to tell you."

They looked at me and I could feel my tension rising. So I said it, to the
best of my ability anyway and I tried to deliver it lightly, not in volume,
but light as in breezy, because I didn't want the weight of the situation
to overcome me.

"I'm a girl."

My sister said, "what?" my mother said, "oh, Stephen, no" and no one else
said a thing. Fuck-fuck-fuck, this is precisely what I didn't want to
happen. Just seems so cliché to have your family flip out or not accept
you. Can't we just all be good with this?

"I'm a girl. I live my life as a woman."

"All the time?" my mother asked.

"Every minute I'm not at work."

"Oh my God," from my sister.

"Like a cross-dresser?" another one from Mom.

"No, not a cross-dresser. A girl. I live my life as a girl. There's the
clothes, yes, but this is about emotions. It's different."

There was a long pause.

My brother, evidently now playing the role of Stifler: "so you're gay?"

"That's not important right now."

My dad: "I don't even really know what that means." Gotta love Dads.

"Look," I was fighting to find some words. "It's something that I have felt
for a long time now. Something that makes me happy. It's natural for me
to feel this way, but I realize it's probably a shock to you, and I wanted
you to know because I don't want to be lying to you guys. This was a hard
decision. To tell you."

God love [my sister-in-law] who chimed in with, "More wine?"

We ran the gamut of questions for about another 5 minutes. Five minutes
that felt like forever. I told them I wore makeup, dresses, women's shoes
- that yes, I was a woman. More questions - how long had this been going
on? Did anyone else know? What was I going to tell work? Those kinds of
things. And then [my brother] and [his wife] left. I think they needed to
process. Hopefully that's what it was and it's not the kiss-off. After
they did I talked to my mom and sister for a while about other things,
small talk kind of stuff and then everyone hit the road. My dad didn't say
much. Mom said we'd talk more tomorrow. I think she wants to digest this
news. Total time, just over an hour.

I thought long and hard about maybe changing into something more feminine
after [my brother] left but decided against it. Probably the right call to
leave the 5" fuck me pumps in the closet. After they left I finished a
couple bottles of wine and reflected on the night. No coke though. I
stayed away from it. Way to go, me.

All in all it didn't go bad and it didn't go good. In a lot of ways it
didn't go. There wasn't some big dramatic blow up or breakdown or
anything. It was strangely calm. I'm not sure they completely get it.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

So Mom called tonight to see how I was doing. I think that's pretty sweet
of her. I'm actually doing OK. I'm glad they know, scared of the
potential fallout though. That shoe hasn't dropped yet. She'd like to
come over tomorrow after work to talk some more. OK by me.

Jack called to confirm we were on for this weekend. Does he think I'd skip
out on my ritualistic pussy pounding and degradation? Who wouldn't want to
be fucked and sweated on by an old, fat guy? It's what I live for.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

So Mom and Dad were over tonight for a chat. I don't think they really get
it and I'm beginning to think they need some kind of shock to the system to
really understand. They kept asking if I looked like a girl all the time
and I kept telling them I did when I wasn't at work and it was like they
couldn't wrap their head around what that means. The whole thing gives me
an ice cream headache. I think I need to have them over and look
completely like Kristy when I do. I told Dad I had boobs tonight and his
head looked like it might go spinning off, but again, I don't think they're
going to fully comprehend it all unless I show them. After all, I had told
them that two nights ago. It's going to have to wait though, tomorrow is a
"Jack Friday," the start of another hotel room weekend which means I can
actually eat something when everyone is done fucking me on Sunday.

Mom did ask some pertinent questions about my job and whether I wanted a
sex change. I can't answer the job question yet but I told her I didn't
want a sex change. She seemed confused. I didn't have the heart to tell
her some guys pay good money to fuck a chick with a dick. They would have
had to put her six feet down if I said that.

Anyway, all of this family drama is going to have to wait because I have my
other job to do this weekend and I plan on doing it well.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

OMG, so much to write about. It's Monday and I'm a mess. The whole thing
is an exhausting intersection of another hooker weekend, my family and my
job. I don't really know where to start. First, the weekend, I guess. I
got to the hotel at 6:45 on Friday and there was Jack to let me in with his
bottles of wine and too much cocaine. My tight little ass has become quite
the little earner for him lately and I think he's beginning to feel the
effects of my pussy on his wallet. If I can be so vain, the guy has it
made. He works another job, is clearly single and spends most of his
weekends sitting in a hotel room sipping wine, insulting me, ordering me
around, watching me fuck and getting paid for it. Not a bad gig.

So I get there at 6:45 after getting partially ready at my apartment after
work because whenever I come straight in my sort-of boy mode Jack would
always have shit to say about how bad I looked. So I get there in a pair
of yoga pants and a light sweatshirt, but looking very much like myself and
he starts in on me right away:

"What's with the modesty crap? You're a hooker, Kristy, dress like one."

"Well, I'm not going to pick up a trick walking from my car to the hotel
now, am I?" I shot back.

"Don't you fucking talk back to me!!" he shouted. The guy had turned on a
dime.

"OK. I'm sorry," was all I said, trying to keep the peace. Fucking jerk.

I went through my regular routine of taking yet another shower (my 3rd of
the day), shaving, primping, makeup and dressing. I chose a black pair of
boy shorts, a black tube top and 5" black fuck me pumps. Simple yet
elegant. Then I glittered up my dark plum lips and eyebrows and blew
myself a kiss in the mirror. I was all come-fuck-me attitude as I made my
way back over to the table.

"Are you wearing the corset?" Jack asked.

"Everyday." I couldn't resist asking - "why?"

"Because your shape hasn't changed since the last time."

"Jack, I wear the thing 24/7 - and it has changed. I wasn't this
hourglassy the last time."

He mumbled something shitty to me and then we got down to business.

"Tonight is light. Just two guys on the docket, but tomorrow looks like a
really good day. I've got four in the afternoon and as many as six that
night."

Ten different cocks in a day. It's unhealthy to have that much sex.
Still, I was here and ready to work and we only had one last detail to take
care of. I smiled at Jack and he threw the 8-ball of coke at me. I opened
it and dumped some out on the CD case, ready to be chopped.

"You really should be paying for this," he said.

"Oh, I'm paying for it alright. Ten guys tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm not kidding." he said. "I need to start taking the coke as part
of my money." He was serious.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked.

"No. It's just one more trick."

Fucking asshole. I pay about $110 for my share of the two nights at the
hotel and 25% of the money my ass makes and now I have to give him another
$150? Between the room and the coke that's two tricks that are fucking me
for free. I didn't want to argue because he is a steady supply of blow and
I don't want to lose that.

"OK." I relented. Then I chopped up the coke and snorted two lines up
each nostril, a little turbo charge to get my night going.

Friday night was pretty uneventful for a while. I ended up having three
tricks for a total of $375, which was short for my liking. John was the
first inside me, a short but wide cock and he popped within the first five
minutes. Fucking great that they're all named John. How many John's can
there be?

An hour later was a different guy and I can't for the life of me remember
his name (probably John). Same thing as the first, a typical suck and
fuck, doggie style. His cum felt heavy in my bottom. I remember that.

Xavier was last and a complete godsend; a toned and lean beautiful black
man with a luscious 8" torpedo. I have only had one other African-American
inside me and I'm definitely beginning to understand what all the fuss is
about. For one-on-one sex, this is the best I have ever had. He took his
time with me, making me deepthroat his entire enormous cock by holding onto
my hoop earrings and not letting me get away. I choked back my gag reflex
like the good whore I am and took it all with everything I had. Then he
picked me up and gently tossed me on the bed, before tearing off my panties
with one strong pull. I can still hear the sound of the fabric tearing and
it gives me chills. I can see his strong hand reaching towards me on my
right hip side and ripping them off of me; his slut, his plaything, his
whore.

I felt the familiar grease on my pussy and let out an involuntary moan as
Xavier prepared me. Then he drove into me with one shot. I cried out and
then bore down on him, milking his cock with my muscles and grinding my
hips back into him with each delicious thrust. He felt huge inside me.

"Ungh. Yeah baby, ooh," I cooed. "Take that fucking pussy, yeah." My cunt
was still stretching to take all of him and I bore down to let him take me
to the hilt. I needed this fuck, to be mounted and taken with animalistic
brutality.

"You fuck me now, baby, you fuck me good," I cried. "Stuff that fucking
dirty cunt, yeah."

Xavier felt huge inside me and I maneuvered my prostate love button into
just the right angle. Divinity. He was so big and so thick that I could
feel every movement to my core. He had such a strong, consistent pace that
I was able to move in tune with his body and his dick so well. We were
one. I could feel my first orgasm beginning to build and I centered all of
my focus onto the buzzing in my cunt. Such a fucking and such a fucking
build up as I held out as long as I could before Xavier's magnificent cock
took me over the edge. I felt myself swooning under his torrid assault and
I screamed in glorious rapture as I felt my orgasm rip through me. By now
I was completely wanton, an open sexual channel for my young stud, a tgirl
harlot desperate to take all he could give me. I could feel my clit
dripping with each thrust and at that moment there was no other place or
person I ever wanted to be or be with. I was completely conquered, taken
and breathless with lust as the tears began to stream down my face.

"Please, never stop," my mind cried. "Never stop fucking me. Never stop
taking me to this place," my mind screamed, as my eyes closed in yet
another glorious rapture, the milky ropes of release now pouring from my
cockette. He was milking his cum pig for all she was worth and at that
moment I was proud to be his sow, proud to be opening my ass for this man
with the beautiful black cock and the rhythm of an angel. He could have
done anything he wanted with me and I would have obliged with batted
eyelashes and a cunt on fire.

Finally his ride ended with a deep moan and his own delicious explosion of
heavy, thick streams of cum into my pussy. I clenched my cunt onto his
shaft, milking every last drop, begging him emotionally to never pull out
of me. I felt my tears well up in my eyes when he did. To show my
gratitude I reached my hand between my legs, gathered some of his angelic
seed and put it to my lips.

Normally I retreat to the bathroom once they cum but with Xavier I lay
there spent, in my own cooling milk, and watched him gather up his clothes,
admiring his rippled body, secretly hoping he would extend his hand and
take me with him. He thanked me - and I thanked him, something I had never
said out loud before to a trick. I don't think he really knows just how
good of a fuck he is. Please see me again. I need you.

Once he was gone Jack couldn't resist. "Like it much," he said
sarcastically.

I smiled, satisfied, "so fucking good."

Jack looked at me for a minute, sizing me up and down. I actually felt a
little self conscious. Then he unzipped his pants. "Come over here," he
ordered. I hesitated for a second. Who was he to just order me? And then
it hit me full on. He's my pimp. Maybe not in a back-alley hooker way,
but my pimp nonetheless. And if he orders me to do something I better do
it. A whore needs to know her place. So, content in the knowledge that
sometimes a hoe needs to bow down, I slithered off the bed and crawled on
my hands and knees until his stiff dick was bobbing in my face. Then I
bowed my head to my pimp and sucked his cock.

And that was it for Friday. I had laid off the coke pretty good that night
and the pounding Xavier had given me had left me wrecked, sore and tired.
After I finished sucking Jack's cock I had a cigarette, a couple more sips
of beer and climbed into bed, the thoughts of my gorgeous Xavier dancing in
my head. I wish they were all like him.

Sadly ... they are not.

Jack woke me on Saturday at 9:30. My first trick of the day was due in two
hours.

"We've got a long day ahead,"

"I already knew that," I said, as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I had
gone to bed without showering or taking off my makeup, so the linens were
smeared with eye liner and covered in glitter.

"I've got the maid coming up in about 10 minutes. I told them you would be
in the shower and they can skip the bathroom, but they should make the bed
up and empty the trash. I'm running out to get the paper. I put your coke
in your purse if you want it. Just go easy. We've got at least 12 hours
today."

And with that he was off. I got up, stretched and had a cigarette. Right
as I finished the maid knocked at the door. I grabbed my coke, a cold
beer, dove into the bathroom and called, "Come in!"

I locked the bathroom door to ensure privacy and opened my beer, enjoying
its cold crispness even at 9-something in the morning. Then I turned on
the shower for cover and chopped out two nice lines for breakfast. There's
something about these types of days - 10 scheduled cocks - that just brings
out the coke whore in me. Give me a date with one guy and maybe I'd do a
little. Tell me I have to get fucked all day long and deep into the night
and I will throw on my fuck-me heels and blow lines the whole time while an
endless string of guys dump their hot spunk into me like the cum catcher I
am. It's like when I know I'm going to be degraded I use the drugs to
degrade me even further. I fucking need that feeling of being an open cunt
or something. Is this all I'm good for? I'm a cum dump ... and I like it.
WTF?

By the time I got out of the shower the maid was gone, the room had been
cleaned and Jack was back. I was wearing green, having settled on the boy
shorts and matching bra being my best options when it came to turning
tricks. I added a pair of jet black thigh highs and 5" black fuck me
pumps. I used extra mascara, dark and thick on my lashes and smoked out my
eyes with liner and shadow right up to my brows. It was pretty caked on
and there was no mistaking what I was. It was 10:30 and I was a tramp
ready for a day of opening her legs for money. Then I added my glitter,
sashayed into the room and did a couple of more lines.

Adam was right on time at 11:30 AM. I was his first tranny and the young
boy was doing his best to please me by putting my little clit into his
mouth and sucking me for all he was worth. Poor thing. Between the
hormones and the coke, I can't get hard anyway and my cockette is well on
its way to shriveling away to nothing. I don't need it for my sexual
pleasure anymore, so it makes no difference to me, but I think he thought
he was doing something wrong.

I pulled his mouth off of me and returned the favor. His 6" of dick was
nice and clean and I lubed him up good with my spit. Then I got down on
all fours on the bed and offered my ass to him. I think he was having some
problems with Jack being in the room because he was a pretty timid fuck.
I'm a professional, so I gently slid my hips forward and back and did a lot
of the work for him, massaging his cock with my pussy muscles and
eventually milking the cum from his cock. He had paid in full so I wanted
to make sure he got his money's worth and got to cum before he went soft
again. Mission accomplished.

Eric was next at 12:30, a chubby guy with a non-descript 6" cock. He
fucked me pretty good (doggie again) and moaned softly when he came inside
me.

Tom was an older guy, probably in his mid-50's. Graying hair and gray
pubes. He took his time with me and let me ride him, so I was able to
angle his dick into my g-spot and I got a nice cum out of it before he
exploded inside me. Thank you, darling. I'm glad you enjoyed the ride.

My scheduled fourth never showed.

By now it was around 3:00 and I was feeling no pain, a mix of a few beers
and plenty of coke. I was lounging on the bed when Jack came over and put
his cock in my face. I opened and took him inside me, savoring my pimp's
dick.

"You work for me don't you," he taunted.

"Mmmhhmmm," I mumbled through a mouthful of cock.

"That's it slut, suck my cock, you fucking whore." I doubled my efforts,
rolling my tongue along his balls and pumping his stiff shaft with my hand.
He tasted good and I knew all my fucking had turned him on by the sheer
hardness of his prick. This wasn't going to take long - and it didn't.

"Yeah," he teased, "I'm going to give you my cum, my gift."

I mumbled again into his cockhead as his thick streams began to fill my
mouth. I pushed his dick past my gag reflex and took the last two or three
ropes directly down my throat. He moaned when I deep-throated him and
shoved my lips into his pubic patch, holding me there until I was gasping
for air. Then he pulled out of me, zipped up his pants and went back over
to the table.

I went to the bathroom to clean myself up a little bit, touch up my makeup
and plump my lips. I did a few more lines and had another beer as Jack
kept working the computer, looking for more tricks.

"We probably have enough," I said to him. We still had six more scheduled.

"Never enough," he shot back. "Time is money."

He really is a fucking asshole. How much pounding can my pussy take?

I had a 5:30 that was in and out of me in 20 minutes. David, as he
preferred to be called, had a decent 6 to 7 inches of love that I hungrily
gobbled down my throat before he flipped me over, slid my panties down and
fucked my ass until he dropped his load inside it with a grunt. Then he
was gone. Full price.

I should have known the whole weekend was going too easily. Guys were in
and out and were paying full price and my ass was holding up pretty well.
There wasn't a lot of small talk and everything was just rolling along.
Good times, good coke and good money. This was getting easier.

Then Martin came in.

Martin wanted to tie me up and dominate me for $250. Jack had talked to me
about it earlier in the week before he booked the appointment. I was fine
with it, figuring Jack was going to be there and I loved the thought of
being tied and forced to submit. He got there just a few minutes after
7:00 and carried a mysterious duffel bag of his "tools" with him. He sat
down and we talked for a couple of minutes, just small talk really, nothing
focused on my desires and few about his - he liked getting head and he
wanted me to obey without hesitation. He paid in full and I was now his
"slave" for the next hour. I didn't realize at the time just how brutal it
was going to be.

He started by laying out the ground rules, most of which I already knew -
he was to be addressed as Master Martin or Martin, I was only to speak when
spoken to, I had no say in what he did, etc.

He told me to lose my clothes, including my heels, which I thought was odd
since all guys seem to want me in heels to the point where now I always
leave them on without thinking about it, even if I'm completely naked. He
sat me on the bed with my legs about a foot apart. Then he slid in behind
me up near the pillows and cuffed my wrists behind my back and added a
thick, leather collar to my neck. Finally, he produced a small "cuff,"
reached between my legs, pulled my two balls down hard and cinched the cuff
down tight at the base of my clit, pushing my balls down and away from my
body, stretched out away from me. That didn't make me very happy, since my
cockette and her two friends are pretty much off limits to people. I'm a
girl. I have holes. I thought about protesting but didn't.

I should have. He clipped a short measure of chain into the cuff binding
my balls and attached it to ring on my collar. After a couple adjustments
I was completely immobilized. I couldn't straighten my neck. If I moved
it at all, it tugged on my ball sac. If I jerked my head, I was in danger
of having them ripped off. So I was forced into a head down position,
tethered to my own sex.

Martin carefully rolled me on my side and placed a riding crop to my lips.
I could feel myself being tugged on even in this simple motion.

"Beg me to use it," he taunted.

I didn't like where this was going.

"Please Martin, use it on me."

He began to lightly slap me with the crop all over my body - my hips, my
ass, shoulders and back. Gradually he picked up the ferocity of his slaps.
He would hit me and my body would react, tugging on my testicles if I made
even a subtle move.

He showed me the wooden ruler before I felt it and seconds later he began
to spank my bare bottom with it. I could feel the heat spreading on my ass
and thighs. The cuffs on my hands were tight. There was no escape.

He unzipped his pants and stuffed his cock into my mouth. It was hard for
me to suck it because every movement caused me pain. I did the best I
could, lapping at his cock with my tongue and bathing it with my saliva.
As I did he continued to spank my ass and body with the ruler.

As if this wasn't enough I felt the cool grease being applied to my pussy.

"I like my girls to be loose," he stated. "Are you a loose girl, Kristy?"

"Yes Master. I'm a loose girl."

He slapped my ass. "Are you a loose girl?"

"I'm a loose girl."

Another slap. "Tell me!" He slapped me again with the ruler.

"Yes, yes. I'm a loose girl. I'm a fucking whore and a loose girl!"

"Are you a fucking slut?" Another slap.

"I'm a fucking slut! I'm such a fucking slut. I have a dirty pussy and I
need you to fuck it!"

I must have had my eyes closed because he told me to open them and when I
did I saw that he was holding the biggest dildo I had ever seen. It had to
be over a foot long, but it was the girth that made me moan - at least 4"
in diameter at its widest. It would split me in two.

"Please no," I begged.

"Oh yes," came his reply.

"No, no, please!"

"Shut up!" he shouted.

I whimpered.

"You're going to take this cock in your pussy and you will do it now, my
loose girl."

More grease on my ass, then more on the dildo. Then more on me as he worked
two fingers into my pussy.

"This isn't your first cock today, is it, slut?"

"No Martin," I admitted.

"Such a dirty girl. Such a loose and dirty girl."

I could feel the tip of the monster sliding into my bottom.

"No, please."

Deeper it went, as my ring began to stretch to take what he was going to
give me. I bit down on my lip as I felt the hard, rubber dong sliding into
me, preparing me to be stretched beyond anything I had ever experienced
before. I thought of Xavier and his big dick and some of the others I had
taken in my time. This was twice that. It was huge, the giant, bulbous
head, followed by the enormous shaft, a massive torpedo. I thought about
whether I would bleed, whether my bowels would hold out. Would I ever be
able to be fucked again? I cried out in pain as it passed the halfway
point and then what must have been the three- quarters mark. This was it.
This was the widest part. My ass was on fire, engorged by this beast, this
uncompromising man and his hard rubber, God-like phallus. I was moaning.
My body convulsed and I felt a sharp tug on my sex. I needed to remain
still, to take the monster to my hilt. Martin reversed the dildo and I
felt my ring contract for a moment before he resumed his torture, sliding
the demon into me deeper than it had been before. I bore down the best I
could, a wanton slut who had naively given all control to this man.

I could feel his hand at the base of the dildo touching my bottom. I was
nearing the end. He pushed into me and I grunted and then screamed, my
cunt squealing in pain like a wounded animal. The white heat was blazing
and I couldn't see anything. I was involuntarily writhing on the bed, the
tug at my sex no longer my biggest problem. Martin reversed the dildo
again and with a short warning plunged the rest into me. I was taken,
defeated and he screamed in victory.

That's when it got worse.

Getting the monster to the hilt inside me was only the first step and I
realized this the moment he slid part of the dildo out of me and then
pressed it back in. He just didn't want it all inside me; he wanted to
fuck me with it.

I bucked and I screamed, searing pain shooting through me, as he began to
quicken the pace.

"That's it, my loose girl, you will learn to love the size, darling,"
Martin teased. "You will learn to worship it."

I gritted my teeth as he continued to fuck me with the beast, establishing
an in-and-out rhythm and adding slaps to my ass and thighs as he did so.
Then the ruler was back as the dildo continued its pounding in his other
hand. He reached around and tugged on my leash as he fucked me deep and
hard, all twelve inches buried inside my white-hot cunt. I was gone,
completely at his mercy - the dildo firing in and out of me as the slaps
and the spanks and the tugs sent me into subspace and complete sexual
overload. I was a greased pig, filled with lube that was now seemingly all
over me. He began to fondle my nipples until they were erect. Then he
pinched them, rolling them harshly between his fingers as my pounding
continued. I was gone, oblivious to everything. An overloaded whore.

Martin was working the massive dildo in and out of me with abandon, as if
it were a standard size. I was squealing in pleasure and pain. I swooned
and was thunderstruck as my orgasm blazed through me and the milk began to
leak from my clit - my own body betraying me yet again with this
degradation. Is there no limit to my nymphomania? In and out, in and out.
More cum, milky ropes now erupting from inside me. I swooned again, thick
streams of prostate milk now pouring out of me with each thrust. I was
truly a sow, my milk being taken from me at the hands of this man. With
each deep insertion I saw stars and when I came to I could see the milk
streaming from me, pooling on the bed.

Then more slaps and spanks. I was being fucked to death, or so I thought.
This couldn't continue. I didn't have any more milk to give, did I? Out
and out it poured from my sexual well. Would I drown?

And then it stopped.

Suddenly he was done, removing the monster from my cunt in one motion. I
could feel my pussy gaping. He unchained my neck and released my hands. I
was free for a moment before he brought my wrists over my head, binding me
to the headboard face down. Martin lifted my ass to him and I waited
breathlessly as he slid his pants off. His dick was rock hard and he was
inside me a moment later. I could barely feel him in my cunt, so open I
was from the dildo. But I could feel his body and his motions and I knew
he was sawing back and forth inside me, lost in his own perversions of
fucking the loosest girls he could find to fulfill his fantasy.

I was a gaping cunt to him now and he was driving into me with a force that
moved me with each thrust. I could feel his balls slapping into me as my
wide open hole welcomed his cock. I felt him shiver and I knew he was
close. I tried to massage him with my pussy but it was just too open and I
couldn't establish a grip so I concentrated on feeling his orgasm and I
felt it splash inside of me as he moaned and held me tight, the waves of
pleasure rippling through him.

"Kristy, so good," he warbled. "Thank you my dear."

Martin untied me from the bed and I spun around as fast as I could. I was
so worried about his cleanliness after the dildo and I was shocked and
thrilled that he remained clean through the process. I worried about my
own health. My pussy was gaping. It felt so open. Would it ever
contract?

I remained on all fours as Martin went into the bathroom for a moment and
had a drink of water. Then he gathered up his tools, kissed me on the lips
and left an extra $50 on the foot of the bed.

When he was gone I gathered myself up and headed for the bathroom. Jack
tried to say something but I gave him the "1- minute" finger, shut the door
and stood there dazed. I was shaking. I felt like I had ripped open. I
wasn't sure whether to sit down or bend over. I chose to bend over. Then
I vomited.

I eventually sat on the toilet. Nothing came out. I still took a second
to wipe any remaining cum away and when I did I realized I could have
easily put four fingers into my pussy without discomfort or stretching or
anything. I was wide open. It took me a long time in the bathroom to
compose myself and what I just realized is that Jack never checked on me
once. Fucking prick.

Finally I was able to stand and walk back into the room. I was still naked
and shaking. Jack was on the phone as I gingerly tried to sit down. I was
able to, thankfully. Then I got back up and went to my bag to find
something, anything that would keep me warm. Nothing. It's the middle of
summer. I didn't have a sweatshirt or anything. I hooked my bra and threw
on the yoga pants I normally wear home. Then I sat back down and tried to
stop shaking. I opened a beer.

Jack hung up the phone. "What the fuck are you doing? Your next one could
be here any second."

"Jack," I was all fucked up. "I can't. I can't do it."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You have to. We've got appointments.
We've got clients."

"I can't. There's just no way."

He looked at me, like he needed an explanation or something.

"My ass is on fire. You have to cancel."

"Fuck you. Fuck you I'm not canceling. We have like six or seven more guys
coming tonight. Now get the fuck back in there and get ready."

"Jack," I was trying to remain calm. "I can't. I'm hurt."

He got up from the chair. "You're not hurt. It wasn't that big."

Wasn't that big?

He was standing over me now. "Go get ready," he said again. I didn't like
where this was going. I sat in silence.

"Get your fucking ass into that bathroom now." I just sat there.

"Now!" he shouted. I didn't move.

That's when he grabbed me. I tried to get away but he was too quick. He
picked me up and threw me onto the bed. I tried to scramble off but he was
on me in a flash. He slapped me hard on the head and wrapped his hands
around my throat. "You fucking do what I tell you to do! You fucking hear
me! You fucking hear me you whore!"

I looked away and he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him.

"You hear me you cunt? You fucking do what I tell you to do!"

"Fuck you!" I snapped back.

Then he punched me in the face as hard as he could.

I cried out and then I cried as I stared into his eyes. I was stunned.
Thankfully I think he was too. His rage ebbed away enough that I think he
caught himself. I was crying. Hurt. Feeling new emotions. He rolled off
of me.

"You're a fucking asshole," I whimpered. I had to leave. I had to find a
way to get out of there.

Jack was silent for a while.

"You fucking do what I tell you to do," he quietly said. "That's what you
do - what I tell you."

No, I thought. No fucking way. Not anymore.

There was a knock at the door. Jack looked at me and I looked at him.

"You - in the bathroom now. And not a fucking word or I'll fucking kill
you." His exact words. I'll fucking kill you.

I shuffled as quickly as I could into the bathroom and locked the door. I
heard my next trick come in and start the small talk with Jack. Then the
bathroom door opened and Jack threw in the rest of my "hooker outfit" and
shut the door. I checked my face in the mirror. I had a welt, not a
shiner, but more of a bright red bruise from the punch. My throat had
marks from his hands. I should have run right then. Just right out the
door in my bare feet and off into the sunset. Instead I caked on the
makeup to cover up my bruises, plumped my lips, fixed my hair and slid back
into my panties, thigh highs and heels. Then I walked back into the room
and let six more guys whose names I will never know fuck my abused pussy in
front of my abusive pimp.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

This shit can't go on. I called in sick to work and Mom and Dad were
supposed to come over tonight. I had to cancel both because of the big
fucking bruise on my face. One thing I'm not going to tolerate is Jack
hitting me. That's just not right or fair or anything like that. I'm not
going to turn into one of those hookers who get hit by their manager. I'm
not fucking doing that. My face is sore. I can barely move from the sex
and the massive dildo and now I have a black and blue face and marks on my
neck. I look like shit and I feel like shit. I couldn't eat again today.
I'm worrying about anorexia. I'm not that thin but I just don't eat. The
drugs, the sex, the booze, I don't know. I feel like I'm not well.

I think I need to get out and go do something fun. See the girls. Change
it up. I've spent so much time on my back with my legs in the air lately
and that can't be healthy. I think I need a break from hooking.

End Diary Entry

Like A Stone OR That Deep, Dark Place

Diary Entry: July 2007

Holy shit I did it. M&D were over tonight and they got a firsthand look at
the real me. A-line black dress, 4" black heels, my auburn wig, tasteful
makeup, jewelry and my perky B-cup boobs. If they didn't get it or
understand before, they get it now. I can't say it went well; they were
pretty upset, but what the fuck did they think I was talking about? I give
myself major props for wearing fuck me pumps in front of my parents.

We talked a lot about my feelings and how I fully believe this is right.
They're both worried about my safety. I do too, although more for my line
of work than anything happening to me normally. They're from a different
time, when this sort of thing was in the closet and never discussed. I
suppose it's still this way largely. Tgirls are still pretty subculture,
but things are changing. I can see it happening.

Thing is, our own community can be its own worst enemy. We fight so hard
for acceptance from society and yet we often don't accept one another.
Girls are looked at as too fat, too manly, too something and in a lot of
cases they're shunned by their own. It's not fair. We've all had some
kind of similar feelings to get us to this point. Shouldn't that be enough
in common to make it work? I guess not. I'm one to talk. Everything I do
is for outer beauty. I hate myself for being like that.

Where the heck was I? Oh, so I talked to Mom and Dad as Kristy too - her
voice, my voice and I think that threw them. We talked about work, my
plans for the future, my relationships, etc. Mom asked me if I like men
and I told her I did. That was a little awkward, although I think some of
that is my own head trash about being a hooker. She seemed like she got
it, which makes sense considering I'm a girl, but for me, I see my legs in
the air and trashy heels and cocks deep in my ass when I think about men.
I don't think about flowers and someone getting the door for me; some sort
of loving, mutually respectful relationship - I think about cocks. Men are
hard cocks to me. They pay me and I make them cum.

Lately I've been thinking about how mean they can be too. Just fucking
mean and terrible and degrading. Spread your legs, slut. Suck that cock,
slut. Scream my name, slut. They're talking to me. I'm subhuman.

The whole time my parents were over my cell phone was ringing - Jack must
have called about 10 times. You don't like it when I'm not available to
you, do you Jack? I was concerned that he might just show up when M&D were
there. That would have been bad. What does he care? I am just a
disposable whore to him it seems.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

Work sucks.

End Diary Entry

I'm trying to understand the above entry and it doesn't fit in with
anything around it. Something must have happened, but I never explained it
in my diaries and I can't for the life of me think about what it could have
been. Telling entry, even at two words; I was definitely going through
some shit at this point.

Diary Entry: July 2007

What the fuck is wrong with me? I said I wasn't going to take this shit
anymore and what do I do? I go and take it. Surprise, surprise there's a
knock on my door at 8:00 tonight and wouldn't you know it's Jack. I guess
the fucking asshole got tired of waiting for me to return a call that
wasn't going to come. So there he is at my doorway with his smug smile.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asks, standing there with a bottle
of wine like we're buddies or something.

"No. I'm all set with this."

I went to shut the door in his face but he put his foot in the sash and
blocked it.

"Can't you just hear me out?"

"I really don't think there's anything for us to talk about," I spat.

"Look, let me come in and we'll have a drink and talk."

I just looked at him, wondering what the police would say if a hooker
called them and wanted to file a trespassing complaint against her pimp.
Does that work?

"Besides," he continued. "I have something else for you." He pulled a big
baggie of coke from his pocket.

"I have to pay for those now," I said to him. God I hate it when I'm
passive aggressive.

"This one's on me."

Fuck. Whatever. I let him in. Not sure why and it was totally a mistake
because I have so much left over coke from all my time with Jack that I
could probably deal it myself. Thing is, it's getting low - not low as in
running out, but lower than I like it to be. For some reason I take pride
in my collection. I'm such a fucking idiot. So I let him in. All I
really wanted is for him to either stay the hell away from me or to
legitimately apologize and assure me he will never lay a hand on me again.
This whole relationship needs to change.

I shouldn't have even opened the bag of cocaine. I just should have taken
it from him and put it with my stash. But I didn't, because evidently I'm
a fucking stupid coke whore. He opened the wine, I opened the drugs. I
did a couple of big lines and had a few sips of wine and then he started in
on me.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks." I was in my yoga pants and flip-flops. I wasn't planning on
having company.

"No corset?"

"No. No corset. I needed a break."

"You can't take breaks, Kristy," he said. "Not if you truly want it all.
You need to always be going for perfection. Always. Go put it on and
slide into a party dress and some sexy shoes. We're going out."

"I'm not really interested in doing what you want anymore."

"Then at least do some more coke. You always look hot when you do that."

I smiled. Then I did some more coke; two good sized lines, one in each
nostril. What is it about compliments, even phony-ass ones like that?
They still get to me.

"See, you do some of what I tell you," he laughed.

I smiled again. The fucking jerk.

"So," he started. "Are you in the mood to work tonight?"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah. There's four guys at a house in [next town over] that have been
circling our weekends for a while but have never pulled the trigger. Now
they have."

I had a sip of wine.

"How much?"

"Three hundred."

"Three hundred for me or three hundred total?"

"For you."

"How much are you getting?"

"That's between me and the client."

Between me and the client? "Are you fucking kidding me? Are we on
opposite sides now?" I couldn't believe it.

"Do you want the job or not? Otherwise I'll get someone else."

I'll get someone else. The words just hung there. I was floored. So this
was it. He was officially a pimp and I was officially a hooker. Not just
a hooker. One of his hookers. Now I had competition? Now he had a
stable? Now the money he made was off limits? Who was this other girl?
Where did he meet her? Had she already turned tricks for him? Is he
planning on using her in the same hotel?

I did another line of cocaine.

"Tell them we'll be there in an hour."

I'd never had an outcall before. Guys always came to me. I wasn't really
sure what to do.

"What should I wear?" I asked.

"They wanted you to be as trashy as possible. These guys seem like they're
pretty kinky. Said you should be wearing a butt plug when you got there."

Fuck. I got up from the table and went to my closet to see what would fit
the bill. Lord knows there's plenty of trashy in there. Then I remembered
I needed the plug so I grabbed my 3-inch one, lubed it and myself and then
slid it home. My cunt was still pretty stretched from the massive dildo
fucking I took or it just accommodates cocks no problem now, because it
just slid right it. I was concerned for a second that it would slip right
back out, but that wasn't a problem. It was securely in my bottom and not
going anywhere.

When I got home from work I had just put light makeup on, so that needed to
be redone. I washed my face and then started my whore routine. Cover Girl
honey blonde concealer and foundation, Tea Tree eyebrow wax for maximum
shaping, heavy black Lancome eyeliner - overdrawn for cat-eyes, a variety
of different dark shadows up to my brows to smoke my eyes out. Just a
touch of white liner on the insides for balance. Heavy and thick mascara -
two coats of extender and 2 coats of black. [Author's note: I was
genetically lucky to have dark, thick lashes. When I use heavy makeup on
them they almost look long enough to be fake, but they're not.] Cover Girl
red blush and a little bronzer. Dark plum Maybelline lip liner and hot
pink lipstick (three coats). Then pressed powder and finally Wet-n-Wild
glitter on the outside of my brows and brushed onto my overdrawn slutty
lips. Done and done.

I chose a fire-red push-up bra and g-string and slipped a matching pair of
boy short panties over them. Then I slid jet black thigh highs up my legs
and finished with 5" black fuck me pumps. I chose a gray plaid schoolgirl
skirt and a white blouse tied below my tits to complete my ensemble. The
schoolgirl look is cliché, but it gets results. I gathered up any
cosmetics I would need and put them in my purse. Then I went back out to
Jack (who told me I looked very fuckable) had another two lines and a glass
of wine. Then I smoked a cigarette. I was ready.

The ride was short and we pulled up to the address. The house was nothing
great, nothing terrible; just a basic cape style home on a decent
tree-lined street. My tricks were going to be college guys or middle
managers or something. Jack told me to wait in the car while he went to
the door. He did, knocked, someone answered, they chatted for a second and
then he came back to collect me.

"There's a bathroom to the right when we get in the door. Slip in there
and I'll knock when they're ready," he instructed.

We entered and I went straight to the bathroom like he asked. I chopped
out two more lines, did them and the touched up my face. I wasn't waiting
long when Jack knocked and entered.

"You ready?"

"What's the deal?" I asked.

"They're in the family room or something, just down the hall to the right.
Money's good. We're all set. Go have fun."

I smiled. "I've never had four before."

Jack shrugged. "Two holes, two hands."

I heard the music start playing in the other room. Jack left and I could
hear him introduce me. "Boys, its Kristy!"

They cheered and I did my sexiest strut into the room. I was right; they
were college boys, probably hanging here over the summer because someone's
parents weren't around. They were still dressed.

"Boys, boys," I scolded. "This will not do."

"Show me that ass girl," said one of the dark haired ones.

I put my foot up on an ottoman and ran my hand up my thigh. They cheered.
Then I flipped around and bent over the ottoman, using both hands to flip
my skirt up and show them my ass. I wiggled it at them and they cheered
again.

"Are you ready, boys?" I cooed.

I went over to another dark haired guy and kissed him passionately on the
lips. His friends were laughing and cheering. Then I felt some hands on
me as one guy began to untie my blouse and another started to unbuckle the
belt on my skirt. I reached down and felt my kissing partner's crotch. I
could feel his hardness through his shorts. Someone pulled my blouse away
and I let it fall to the ground. Then I felt a hand inside my bra.

"Real tits," was the comment.

My skirt fell to the ground, and then my boy shorts were dropped. Whoever
did that then pressed on the plug.

"Fucking butt plug, just like we wanted. So hot."

I could feel a tongue begin licking my bottom as I started unbuckling belts
and tugging at zippers. Before long there were four dangling cocks out.

In the room were three dark haired guys and a blonde guy, all in the
college phase of short gelled hair or baseball hats. I sat down on the
ottoman and took the first dick into my mouth. I could see another one
close to my face so I wrapped my right hand around that. Then a dick was
on my left and I took that in my other hand. I was sucking and tugging and
getting my party ready for me.

"On your knees, girl," one of them said, so I slid off the ottoman and
assumed the position, switching between cocks as I lubed them up with my
wet mouth. I felt a hand on my bra and in seconds it was hanging loose.
One of the guys worked it off me with some of my help and I felt a hand on
my nipples, rubbing them and pinching them. I felt them harden to his
touch.

"That's it baby, suck that cock."

I was moving between the three hard dicks in my face, taking one in my
mouth and the two others in my hands. Guy number four began tugging at my
g-string and I stopped sucking and stood up so he could slide my panties
down. My clit popped free.

"That's the most fucked up thing I've ever seen," said one guy.

"She sucks a mean fucking dick," said another.

I went back to my knees and started sucking again. Guy four had pushed his
way into the circle, his cock now added to mix. I sucked them all in a
round robin fashion for a few more minutes, using my hands to stroke the
hard shafts of two others as I did so. I took a second and realized there
was at least six inches of dick on each. One dark haired guy had a strong
looking eight inches and plenty of girth.

"Let's get to that body," said one of them. I felt my hands being lifted
and they laid me down on my back across the ottoman. There was a cock in
my face instantly and I put it back in my mouth as some of the other guys
got between my legs and began to fuck me slowly with my own butt plug. I
moaned into the cock in my mouth and heard him sigh.

"Get some fucking lube," one of them said. I felt the butt plug being
pulled from me.

"Look at that ass, baby. You've got a nice fucking ass."

I nodded my head, wiggled it and took another cock in my mouth.

"Girl's got some fuck me heels on. I guess she wants to be fucked," said
someone.

I nodded my head again. "Mmmhmm," I moaned into the cock.

I felt the grease on my pussy and then the blonde pushed into me.

"Oh yeah," I moaned. "Mmmmm."

I slipped another cock into my mouth as blondie started to drive into me
with greater force.

"Oh fuck. Oh," I cooed. "That's it baby."

He was fucking me good now, thrusting in and out of me as I continued
taking different cocks in my mouth.

"Such a dirty fucking girl," blondie said. "Such a slut."

"Let me get in there," said one of the dark haired guys. Blondie pulled
out and I had a new one mounting me, sliding his cock to the hilt in one
motion. Blondie was up near my face now and pushed his buddies aside.
"Fucking ass to mouth, girl."

I pulled off the cock I was on and took his freshly fucked meat down my
throat. The guys laughed and cheered.

"That's it bitch, suck that fucking cock. Suck that fucking dirty cock."

Dark hair was fucking into me deep now, taking my legs and hoisting them
over his shoulders. I was an open hole, ready to take on all comers.

"That's it you fucking slut. You fucking whore. You like that, shit?"

I nodded and moaned as I kept sucking whatever dick was being thrust into
my face.

The he grabbed my nipples and twisted them hard. I cried out in pain.

"You take that you fucking whore," he said.

The dark haired guys switched places and now I had the eight inches of meat
driving into my cunt. My last fuck buddy wanted the same cleaning
treatment, so I took his dick down my throat.

"Fucking ass to mouth, that's it."

I felt a cock slapping me in the face. I turned my mouth to find it, but
he kept moving it, taunting me.

"Look," he said as he'd slap me. "Look, look at her go try and find it."
He kept slapping me with his dick. Then they all were. Then one fucking
guy slapped me with his hand, lightly at first, but then someone did it
hard. Really hard. Feel the heat hard.

I moaned, not in pleasure, but in pain. It hurt.

"She fucking likes it!" one shouted. More dick slaps. More hand slaps.
Someone pushed down on my forehead so I couldn't move. Then they slapped
my face. Someone made a fist and faked like they were going to hit me.
Not again, please. Then another slap. Then more pinches to my nipples. I
tried to focus on my pleasure. Somehow through all of this I was still
experiencing delirium from the sex. It was rough and I was degraded.

The eight inches was glorious, spreading my cunt lips and driving past my
ring with each deep thrust, fucking me good and deep. I was trying to find
the right leverage to pound that delicious tube into my prostate but my
position wouldn't allow for it. I had to settle for being filled by eight
inches of 22-year old meat with the stamina to match.

Eight inches pulled out and the last dark hair slid inside me. I wrapped
my legs around his waist and let him ride me however he wanted. I felt
more hands on my tits, pinching my nipples. Then a mouth was on my tit and
I squealed when he used his teeth, biting my nipple and pulling upward.
Someone scratched their hand down my thigh highs and ran them.

"Look, she's fucking airtight," one of them said. They all laughed. I had
a dick in my ass, one in my mouth and one in each hand.

"We should fucking DP her," said one of them.

DP me? Fuck. That wasn't in the deal.

They started chanting "DP!" and before I knew it I was lifted up from the
ottoman and blondie slid onto it. Then they dropped me so I was laying on
him and I felt him angle his cock to my hole and slide it back inside my
pussy. Someone stuffed their dick into my mouth as I searched around with
my hands to find another. Then I felt it, but not with my hands, with my
cunt. It was another cockhead clumsily trying to stuff itself into my
pussy. I opened my eyes and saw one of the dark hairs straddling my legs -
and blondie's beneath me. I took my mouth off the cock and said "no,"
searching for Jack with my limited line of sight. They kept shouting "DP!"
and I saw more lube and felt it on my cunt and then it happened. Blondie's
cock had retreated inside me just a little at just the right angle and it
allowed dark hair to get his cock inside my ring. There were two dicks
poised to enter me. I looked up and could see the victory in their eyes.
Then they pushed into me together.

I cried out, a mixture of agony and pleasure as my cunt was stretched to
the breaking point yet again. First it was the massive dildo and now I was
being double penetrated by two thick cocks. My head swam and I bit down on
my lip as I felt a cock slap across my face. I opened my mouth and
searched for it, taking it down my throat in one gulp as the chaotic tag
team on my ass began to sort itself out. I was torn up inside, first from
the pain, then from the disorientation of it all and finally from the
rapture I felt as the cocks moved in tandem inside me. The size was
killing me but the depravity of it all lit a flame. I had been completely
conquered yet again, this time by a group of porn-crazed college boys who
had no business being handed the right to take me as they were. Aren't I
better than this? No, I'm not.

More slaps to my face by two hard dicks. More pinching of my nipples.
Someone slapped me across the tits with all their might. I cried out in
pain. Someone covered my mouth. I couldn't breathe. They let me go and I
sucked in for air just as another cock was thrust down my throat. More
slaps to the face and body.

The sweet and sour assault on my cunt was intensifying and my pussy was so
completely filled I had no choice. I wanted to fight my urges, to take
back some measure of myself and my dignity but I couldn't. I felt the
orgasmic waves and I swooned and then the telling drips from my clit began
as my milk began its sweet release.

"She's fucking cumming!" shouted one. I felt a hand grab a hold of my clit
and pump it as more of my honey began to flow. My body had betrayed me yet
again. I couldn't fight it. I had to give in, to let the waves wash over
me and as the rhythmic double penetration continued I dove a second time to
the depths of depravity, my mouth and face contorting in orgasmic bliss as
my ropes of sweet jelly poured from their well.

It must have been all dark hair needed to see because he pulled his cock
from my cunt and stuffed it into my face as his own cum exploded from it,
painting my left eye and nose with his spunk. My pussy felt so open, even
with blondie still fucking me. Soon eight inches slid between my legs and
crammed his dick into my open hole, stretching me wider still as my heart
sank further and my humiliation continued. Now I had one cock in my mouth
and two in my ass as my blowjob man began to fuck my face, tugging on my
hoop earnings and dragging me around with him.

"She fucking has to go where I go," he laughed and exchanged a high-five
with eight Inches. Soon blondie was making moves and moans like he was
going to cum. Evidently that was a no-go as far as these guys were
concerned - they weren't interested in sharing sperm, so he wiggled out
from under me, dropping me hard on my left shoulder as he did so and
jacking his cock until it came all over my chin, neck and tits. Eight
inches was next, exploding inside my gaping pussy as yet another orgasm
blew through me and my clit continued its poor, humiliating milking at the
hands of these smug douches. Finally I felt earrings grunt and moan and
tug me so hard I thought my ears would come off as he forced his cock fully
down my throat and dumped his load into my empty stomach.

I was a mess. Beaten. Betrayed by my body and my pimp who never told me
these assholes were planning on shoving two cocks up my twat at the same
time. I was mad and hurt and yet fully aroused. I had never felt more
used. Shamefully, I liked it.

I lay spent on the ottoman as my four conquerors began to clean up around
me. "Can someone get me a towel?" I asked.

"Eat it cunt," said one of them. Before I knew it they were scooping their
spunk off my body and stuffing cum-filled fingers into my mouth. "Eat it."
I did what they asked.

I got up and grabbed my clothes, managing to get my g-string back on before
I nearly fell over.

"See that," said blondie. "Fucked so hard she can't walk." They laughed.

My legs were shaking. I managed to get my bra on but I couldn't hook it.
I wasn't about to ask for help and neither they, nor Jack, looked like they
were going to give it. Finally I said fuck it and limped over to the car
in just my panties and dangling bra.

I got in and we rode home in silence. I was sore, but still high on
adrenaline. I could feel cum dripping out of my gaping cunt. We reached
my apartment, Jack gave me my $300 and I got out, hoping no one in my
complex would notice the slut in her underwear doing the walk of shame back
to her place.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2007

I'm so sore. Everything hurts. I feel like I'm a failure. Part of me
doesn't want this anymore; being a whore, pimps, tricks, drugs. Part of me
can't get enough of it. It's like a drug that I physically need, and yet,
I can't even take a double penetration without having my body shut down on
me in a heap of hurt and soreness. If I'm going to be a slut I need to be
one and to be able to handle these sorts of things without it being a
problem. I need to get away from this for a week or so. Just chill out
and try and focus on the stabilizing influences in my life. I need to keep
it together.

Diary Entry: August 2007

I seem to have settled into a pretty good routine. I'm doing my best at
work even though they treat me like an outcast. I've managed to have some
success in my new role and I'm leaving there with a smile on my face every
night, so that's good. I've been coming home, dressing and then just being
myself. I've joined a transgendered dating site and couple of others.
Just trying to make some new friends or even find a client or two if one is
so inclined. I like it. Going out with the girls this weekend. Not sure
where yet, but it will be nice to get out and see everybody.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2007

It's been a week since I have written. Let me see if I can get some of
this down on paper. Work continues to be good. I had my parents over on
Tuesday. We had a nice meal, me as Kristy and more talk about my future.
They were wondering about my money and I told them not to worry about it.
A girl has her ways.

Wednesday was a trick from Craigslist. Just a simple suck and fuck for
$100 but god was it good to slide into my fuck me heels again. I liked it
when he put his hands to my neck and almost choked me for a few seconds. I
felt like I could cum right there.

Thursday was the chat rooms and answering lots of emails. Evidently there
are a lot of people who want to date a tgirl but won't put their picture up
to do so. Yup, that's who I want to date. Not. Some guy named Ryan told
me he had some modeling connections and wanted to take some pictures of me.
Whatever, I met him in a chat room. Seems like a decent enough guy though.
Lots of calls from Jack. Evidently he wants me to fuck again this weekend.
I'm pretty much all set with Jack.

Friday was out with the girls. So great-great-great to catch up. I had
some drinks with Shauna and we got ready together and then went out. She
ended up blowing this guy Chris in his car and then came back into the bar
with a bunch of spunk on her shirt. Awesome. I got hit on a lot but never
went with anyone. One pretty cool guy was trying to get me to go home with
him and next thing I know I was telling him how much it would be for a
blowjob, how much for a fuck, etc and he backed off. If that doesn't tell
me I'm a hooker then nothing does. I really need to get it through my
bimbo head. I'm a whore. What's a girl to do?

Saturday was a day of avoiding more calls from Jack. At one point in the
afternoon he showed up but I didn't answer my door. I'm nervous to have
guys to the house because I feel like he's going to come running in or
something. That sucks, because I need to make a living same as the next
girl. I ended up doing an outcall Saturday night with a guy named Frank
for $100. Stubby cock and a douche of a guy. Bad lay too. He smelled and
I was horrified when he came in my ass. I hate unclean people. But I
smiled and took his money and that was that.

Sunday was lounging. I watched some bad movies and was back in the chat
rooms. Ryan seems to be legit. He's emailed me some photos he's taken of
other tgirls. Says this sort of photography and modeling is his hobby.
He's not a pro but the shots looked pretty good. I may meet him next
weekend for a drink.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2007

I had a decent phone conversation with [my sister]. She was checking in to
see how I'm doing. She heard my real voice, my Kristy voice and said I
sounded good - like me but higher, more feminine and very "authentic" as
she put it. I'll take that as passable. More calls from Jack - ignored.
Now he's getting mad. Fuck him. Abuser.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2007

I could not be more weak. Thing is, I don't really care. I met with Ryan
at his house. Nice fucking place, just outside of Boston. Hardwood
floors, clean and spacious, nice art, tastefully decorated, pool, bar,
flatscreen TV, etc. Pretty posh. He's a good looking guy, he said he's
32, dark brown hair, brown eyes, sexy body. Definitely a ladies' man. He
claims he's not, but I'm not buying it ... maybe he's a ladyboy's man.

So anyway, he knows plenty of people and he does some work for [shemale
porn company] and [shemale porn site] and I guess the way it works is that
he scouts the talent in this area and if he finds a girl he takes some
pictures of her and then sends them to [porn company]. If the company
likes them, they authorize more pictures and pay the girl and the
photographer for them. As a model, you have options. You can just get
paid for the pictures or you can make more by doing a video. Its a few
hundred dollars extra for a solo video shoot, a little more with toys and
even more if you get fucked on camera by a real dude. It all adds up to
about a grand.

The whole modeling thing is a little odd and it's definitely flattering but
I just don't see it. I know I'm pretty attractive but I'm by no means a
finished product. Ryan said it doesn't matter. Guys who go to the site
want girls with real tits and since I'm pretty and have real tits I'm
perfect for it.

He wanted me to take some test shots but I wasn't even remotely dressed for
that sort of thing. I wore a short black skirt and a crisp white blouse,
some black 4" pumps and some jewelry. It was the middle of the day, so my
makeup was light. I can do trashy just fine, but I need some warning and
in this case none was provided. Ryan said it didn't matter, as long as my
underwear matched. My underwear always fucking matches. I take pride in
that. Anyway, I went into this massive bathroom and did my best to slut
myself up a bit - darker makeup, some glitter, etc. Then I popped a couple
of buttons on my blouse.

I came out of the bathroom and Ryan looked at me.

"Perfect. Let me take some pictures."

I had no idea what to do and told him so.

"Just be sexy. That can't be hard."

I smiled and did my best.

"Beautiful. Can you lose the shirt?"

I did. Then I fondled my breasts through my bra, caressing them for the
camera.

"Excellent. How about the skirt?"

I slid it down my legs as seductively as I could. I was incredibly nervous
and I could see the whole thing going in a sexier and more provocative
direction. I was scared. It's one thing to strip for a guy who is going
to fuck you. It's something altogether different to strip for someone who
is taking pictures of you that will last thousands of years.

I was uptight and clueless. My hands were shaking. I excused myself and
went back into Ryan's bathroom. Then I chopped out four of the biggest
lines I have ever done and finished them in seconds. So fucking pathetic I
know, but when I came out of that bathroom it was fucking on.

Ryan took a few more pictures and then I unhooked my bra. My nipples were
already erect but Ryan had other plans. He returned with an ice cube and
told me to hold it on each nipple. They hardened even more, like two sharp
pencil erasers.

He kept clicking away, just me in my g-string and I felt so great, so
comfortable now, since cocaine and taking off my clothes is exactly what I
do for a living.

"Now the panties," he said, so I shimmied my little dental floss g-string
down my legs and showed him and the world everything there is to see. I
turned my ass to him, pulling my right cheek up with my hand so he could
see and shoot my honeyed pussy. I was naked in front of this gorgeous man,
feeling a little vulnerable and incredibly turned on.

"Are you nervous?" he asked me.

"Darling, I'm whatever you want me to be," I said. I was partly delirious
because the whole nude modeling thing feels degrading and when I feel
degraded, especially when I've had coke, all of my sexual instincts come
out.

"Then I want you to be my slut," he said, holding a beautiful red, glass 8"
dildo in his hand. It looked heavenly. "Do you know how to use it?"

I smiled and nodded and took it from him. "Do you have any lube?" I asked.

"I do, but you can't use it. Everything needs to look perfect for the
camera."

Dry? "OK," I said. I put the dildo to my lips and sucked on in,
lubricating it with my saliva as Ryan snapped away. Then I licked a couple
of fingers and put them to my pussy, wetting my cunt the best I could. I
smiled at Ryan as I maneuvered the phallus to my bottom. Then I slowly
worked it in. It felt so cold and hard inside me. And dry. I'm such a
whore just taking cocks in my ass without any lube. Dirty girls do that.

I drove the dildo to the hilt as Ryan began calling out directions. Arch
your back. Use both hands. Spread your pussy. Pull it out. Push it in.
Now just slowly do yourself with it.

I started to work the dildo in and out of me as Ryan moved closer and
closer taking photos from different angles. Eventually he was between my
legs, getting money shots of just the dildo working in and out of my ass.
He smelled so good and I moaned at the eroticism of it all. He pulled the
camera up from between my legs as he took some pictures of me in the throes
of ecstasy. Then I felt his hand on mine, touching me, guiding the phallus
and we began to work the dildo in and out of me together. That was his
move and I wanted him so badly I wasn't about to turn back. I was his. I
pulled him on top of me, the fake cock still pressed deep into my pussy. I
felt his hands all over my body as I reached for his belt and freed his
stiffening cock. I wrapped my hands around his shaft as he pushed his
shorts to his ankles. Then I felt him take the dildo out of me, replacing
it with the head of his penis.

He kissed me hard and I swooned, giving in to him completely. He asked me
if I needed any lube and I nodded "no." I just needed him. He pressed
into me and my body switched to a higher gear, feeling his mushroom head
diving deep into my depths, taking me and pushing me to new pleasures. I
opened my legs for him and wrapped them around his waist, taking all of
him, feeding my fire. Our bodies moved in unison, he thrusting downward,
me up to meet him and my head rolled back in the glory of being taken by
this beautiful man with his beautiful cock. He moved so well on top me,
undulating his groin and sending shockwaves through my honeypot. He
caressed my breasts and nipples, heightening my pleasure as he nibbled on
my neck, inhaling my perfume and sending me to glorious sexual heights.

He moaned into my ear as I began to encourage him. "That's it baby, yes,
give in to it, feel that pussy." I was squeezing his cock with my cunt,
milking him, and yearning for his seed. I knew he couldn't hold out much
longer and he didn't, exploding inside me with an animalistic grunt. I
felt every contraction of his cock as it dumped its seed deep within me.
At that moment I felt weightless.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2007

What a night. It's 3:00AM and I can't concentrate. Ryan had me over again
last night to show me my pictures and to talk about the sites. The
pictures came out pretty good. I like some of them, some not so
much. Modeling is fucking hard. The camera doesn't lie. I thought I was
thin. Thin! Yeah right. There's a little flab here, some there. Yuck.
I have work to do. Anyway, Ryan had invited me over and I wasn't about to
say no, so off I went in the prettiest Ann Taylor little black dress I
could find in a pinch, 4" red peep toe pumps and my best attempt at
tasteful makeup. I darkened my eyes, left my lips a healthy pink and went
easy on the blush and the glitter. I was hope-hope-hoping this was an
actual date. I wasn't sure.

I got there and he was making dinner. OMG I was on an actual date. And I
played it right too. I didn't walk in all hoochie-mama or anything like
that. I was me at my best; perky, spunky and (hopefully) flirty. And no
coke either.

I got there around 7:30 and Ryan opened a bottle of white burgundy. "One
of the best expressions of the French style of chardonnay," he said. "Not
over-oaked. The essence of the grape comes through." Good by me. I was
nervous, so my glass was empty in about 3 minutes. Keep it together!

He looked great - pressed cargo shorts and a polo shirt with loafers.
Classy. He smelled great too. His dark, wavy hair was styled back and he
had about two days of unshaven scruff, which makes my heart beat faster
when it's on the right guy.

We talked a little about his life. He was born in Virginia and went to
school in Boston. He has an MBA from an Ivy League school and made a lot of
money working for two different networking startups. One had gone public
and he made a mint when it did, the other was bought and he made over seven
figures from that too. Now he was an investor, working with small
companies and trying to help them grow. He seemed too good to be true.
Why the hell was this guy interested in me? My curiosity got the better of
me.

"So why tgirls?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a single - you are single right?"

He laughed. "Yes."

"You're a single, successful guy, good looking, you could probably have any
girl you want. So why tgirls?"

He paused. "There's just something about them. Some raw sexuality. Look
at you; the way you dress, the femininity, I love that. I think you all
have a bit of an underdog quality that I admire too. You weren't born with
many of the gifts a female has and yet you play it straight, the same way
they do. Finding a beautiful tgirl is like, I don't know, finding a great
piece of art." He laughed. "It sounds stupid when I hear myself say that.
Let me recover." He looked at me sheepishly. "You all just work so damn
hard at giving great blowjobs."

I laughed. "Get a lot of those, do you?" I teased.

"I've had a few," he smiled. "But there's one that I want very badly."

I winked at him and had another sip of wine. I had to calm down and
control myself or I was going to be on my knees in front of this guy before
the water boiled.

And the house? Fucking huge. A girl could get used to this place. I
pressed him: "So, you happen to like tgirls. What happens when you have a
business dinner to go to and a companion is needed? Do you bring your
tgirl out of the darkness and show her to the world?"

He laughed again. "I suppose that depends on the girl. But if she's the
right one, then yes, I do. I'd care far more about what my girls thinks
and feels than some business associate."

We have a winner!! We smiled at each other. There was a warmth there.
Holy-holy-holy fuck.

Dinner was great. Shrimp and scallops sautéed in garlic, butter and
breadcrumbs over angel hair pasta with a touch of red sauce. We had opened
another bottle of wine about halfway through. When we were done we looked
at my pictures. There I was on his big projector image, buck naked and
fucking myself with a dildo. That was pretty tough for me, as it stood in
great contrast to the image I was hoping to display during our time
together. It was a cold reminder that you can't take the hooker out of the
girl. I was horrified.

Ryan ticked through the images while I did my best not to cry. Some were
good and he'd remark with "beautiful," others were so-so and he'd flip on
by, a few were just plain bad and we both laughed, albeit I was laughing
nervously through teary eyes. When we were done he asked me what I
thought.

"I don't know," I feigned a smile.

"I think they're great and I think you're beautiful," he said. "I think
they'd accept these. But here's the thing - if you want this, really want
this, to have your pictures up on a website and maybe make a video with
someone for money, then I think we should take some more. We can do better
and if you want this, we should put our best image on display."

I didn't know what to say.

"I know what happened between us the other day," he said. "But let me ask
you, are you generally comfortable with having sex with strangers? I mean,
when it comes time to film the scene, you need to be able to do that."

Fuck-fuck-fuck. What was I supposed to say? I couldn't tell him the
truth. I couldn't tell him that dozens of guys I never knew fucked me in
the course of a weekend - and I had had a bunch of those weekends. Not
now. Not like this.

"Well, would the guy in the video be you?" I dodged.

"No. It wouldn't be me. I don't know who it would be," he answered.

"Can I think about it?" I dodged again.

"Sure. No harm in that." He smiled and I smiled back. We were sitting in
leather recliners in his theater and he leaned over the arm and kissed me.
A rush of emotions blasted through me. I accepted his tongue in my mouth
with a whimper and kissed him as passionately as I have ever kissed someone
before. Here was this nice, great, successful, rich guy and while there
were no promises, he was definitely into me a little anyway. I could
barely control myself.

We kissed for another minute and then I reached over and felt his package
through his shorts. I broke the kiss, slid onto my knees and got between
his legs.

"Now about that blowjob," I cooed. He slid his shorts and boxers down and
his gorgeous seven inch cock was now free for me to worship. I wrapped two
red painted nails around the shaft and bowed my head, opening my mouth as I
did and taking his cock in my mouth, relishing the feeling of it hardening
inside me. I worked him slowly, using very little hand action. I wanted
to revel in this, revel in serving this man - my man? - taking my time to
pleasure him with all of my heart. I licked him slowly up the sides,
lingering under the cockhead, amazed at my good fortune of being able to
kneel before this man and be presented with his gift. I never wanted this
moment to end and I did everything I could to prolong his enjoyment,
stopping every few moments to gaze up at him, to let him get a great view
of his cock in my adoring mouth.

I ran a hand up his thigh, letting it come to rest on his balls. They felt
heavy in my hand and I knew then that his orgasm would be thick and strong.
I wanted it to build, so I continued to take his cock out of my mouth and
tease it, blowing on it, caressing the spongy, mushroom head with my hands.

I lovingly put it back into my mouth, pressing it past my gag reflex and
stuffing it down my own throat. I held it there, my lips pressed against
his well-groomed pubic area. He moaned in ecstasy as I rolled my tongue
around his shaft. Heaven.

I withdrew his cock from my throat and then pressed back into him,
beginning to deep-throat his magnificent prick at a quickening pace. The
teasing over, I wanted his cum. I wanted his orgasm. I wanted it however
he wanted to give it to me. I began to use my hands in unison with my
mouth, sliding my left hand up and down his slick shaft, while caressing
his heavy, meaty balls with my right. "Give it to me!" my brain was
shouting. "Please!" Ryan's legs bucked and I knew he was close. I thrust
his cock back down my throat, urgent to get as close to this man as I
could.

"Oh," he moaned. "Oh baby, I'm gonna cum."

"Mmmmmhhnmmm," I moaned into his cock, sending him over the edge. I
wrapped my lips around his root as his cock spasmed inside me; the thick,
heavy ropes of his man juice blasting down my throat and coating my
insides. Blissfully divine.

It took Ryan a moment to let the aftereffects of his orgasm subside. I
held him in my mouth until they did. Then I lifted his shaft and gently
licked his balls.

"That was amazing," he said.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you."

He laughed a little. "I should be thanking you."

He pulled me up to him and kissed me, our tongues dancing around one
another. Such a good kisser.

"Do you want another glass of wine?" he asked.

Who was I to say no? We had another drink and I was able to compose
myself. I couldn't-shouldn't fall for this guy, this hard, this fast. I
couldn't. And even if I was going to let that happen, I couldn't let him
know it was happening. Sucks to be like that, but that's the way it is
with relationships. I needed to stay strong. So when he asked me to spend
the night and I knew-knew- knew his gorgeous cock was going to be inside my
pussy in his bed, and when I knew that I would feel his arms around me all
night long and we would wake up in the morning holding each other and we
would kiss and he would hopefully do me again with the light shining
through the windows ... that I shouldn't do any of that.

"I would love to, Ryan," I said. "I really would. But I can't. Not
tonight. But thank you."

"OK, well can we agree on a phone call tomorrow?"

I smiled. "Of course. I would love to speak with you tomorrow."

"OK then."

He walked me to the door, kissed me and our time together ended. My knees
were weak then and they're still weak now. Is everything in my head
possible? I'm so fucked.

End Diary Entry

No Means No OR This Isn't The Spot For Something Pithy

Diary Entry: August 2007

I can't think of the right word. Consumed, maybe? Something like that.
I'm torn; but in a good way. Ryan seems perfect. Just a great guy who
really seems to like me. Dare I say love me? Dare I say that? It's like
I'm 14 again. Just totally, totally crushing hard on this guy with his
wavy hair, dashing smile and magnificent cock. I'm settling, or I should
say we're settling into a routine. I've seen him three times in the last
week, twice at his place, once out to dinner at [t-friendly Boston
restaurant] and each time it's been amazing. I've done my best and played
it cool. We've had sex twice and only twice. I'm trying as hard as I can
to restrain myself, to not give in. It's hard. I'm wearing out my
vibrator.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2007

And that, as they say, is that. The final nail in the coffin with Jack.
I'm done. I'm out of the hooker business. He's been calling and has come
by a few times. I haven't answered the door. Tonight I did. I let him
in. He was pissed as hell that I haven't called him; said I was costing
him money. I was direct and told him that he was bad for my self esteem
and bad for my life.

"I'm out, Jack." I said. "I'm done."

"No, you're not fucking done," he shot back. "I have plans for us. For
you."

"Well, you're going to have to find someone else. I'm through. I've met
someone and I'm in a different place in my life."

"A guy?" he countered with, smiling. "You can't be serious. This is all
over a guy?"

"Not a guy. The guy."

He laughed. The fucker actually laughed at me. "It's THE guy now. What's
it been a couple of weeks? Or were you simply not paying attention when
you had eighty-five dicks in your ass. You're not exactly a one-man woman,
Kristy. You're a prostitute. Does he know that?"

"That's none of your business," I shot back.

"I can't believe this. He doesn't know does he? What's he going to say
when he finds out, huh? What's he going to say when he finds out you fuck
for money? You can't hide from what you are."

My eyes were starting to well up.

"He'll drop you so fucking fast," he continued. "He's not gonna want to be
dating a hooker."

"I'm not a hooker."

"Jesus!" he said. "Can you hear yourself right now? This self righteous
bullshit? Christ you're dumb. You're a fucking hooker, with the cunt
money to show for it."

"No."

"You are, so fucking get over yourself like you're some housewife. I've
been there the whole time. All those dicks inside you. Swaying that ass,
shaking your shit all over the place while dudes stick their dicks inside
you." He laughed at me again. "This is fucking ridiculous."

"I want you to leave," I said. I was crying now.

"I don't really give a fuck what you want. You're out of your fucking
mind."

"Leave."

"Leave. Awesome," he taunted. "You don't want to hear the truth so you
want me to leave. I can still smell the cum from all of those guys on you.
Has he fucked you yet? Was he sloshing around in that loose pussy?"

"Fuck you!" I shouted. "Fuck you! Get out now, please."

"This is the most fucked up thing I've heard in a long time. What sort of
hooker stops fucking because she meets a guy? This isn't Pretty Woman."

"Get out of my house," I snapped. I was going to lose it.

"Yeah. OK. Whatever," he said. "Listen to me - there's no way it ends
well with your guy. No fucking chance of that, OK? You're a slut. And
I'm not saying that to be a dick. But you are. And you'll be back
hustling that ass before you know it. My advice would be to do it soon,
too. You're not eighteen, so you should make your fucking money now. You
hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Good. If you change your mind, and you really fucking should, I've got at
least eight guys for this weekend. A lot of repeats, including your boy
Xavier, have been asking for you. It's all set up - the tricks, the room,
the blow. If we turn the eight into twelve you're walking away with four
figures easy. Think about it."

Xavier and his big, beautiful black cock. The fucking mind games with this
guy.

"I will."

"You're a whore, Kristy. You can't hide that from me."

Such a fucking asshole. "Thanks," I said. Then he left.

Ryan, please be what you seem. Please be good to me.

End Diary Entry

For the record, I never thought about going back to Jack for another
second. That part of my life was over.

Diary Entry: September 2007

I feel like a princess who has met her prince. I feel like I can finally
be myself. Major, major moment last night. When I see Ryan, I have to run
home first to doll myself up. I'm pretty androgynous at work, certainly
not the girl I want to be for my man, so I race home to put myself together
and make myself presentable for him when we have a date. I told him about
my routine last night and he was like, "Why? Just come over." I honestly
don't feel comfortable doing that. I don't want him to see me like that.
But he did see me in a different light anyway.

We had finished dinner (grilled chicken over salad for me, yummy) and were
having some wine and he asked me if I would do something for him. Of
course, right? I'd do anything for this man. So I said "yes" and he
brought me over to his couch and I was half expecting he was going to unzip
and ask for a blowjob (double yummy) but instead he said:

"I was hoping you would show me what you look like without your wig on."

Holy crap!

So what am I supposed to do? I mean, I'm pretty much as femme as they get,
but still, there's parts that are still illusion - the wig being the main
one. Fuck-fuck-fuck. What was I supposed to say? I hesitated and finally
said yes and he reached over and gently took it off me. I had my nylon
skull cap, so I took that off and shook the real me out so he could see. I
have to admit, it felt great to do that.

"Kristy," he said. "You are beautiful."

So nice!

"Look at you. Your hair is definitely long enough to just go "as is" with."

I smiled and I kissed him.

"What do you think - no more wigs?" he asked. "I want the real you."

I didn't know what to say. Finally I came up with "Would that make you
happy?"

He laughed. "This isn't about me. I just want this to be real. The real
you. The happy you. Whatever makes you happy. If wearing the wig does
that, then I'm fine with it."

I considered that for a moment. I wanted to make him happy, no matter how
I felt. He said he wanted the real me. And if he asked to see me without
the wig and thought I looked beautiful then as much as he can say it's for
me, I just want to be the girl he wants me to be. I care about him that
much. So I said, "No more wigs."

He put his arms up in the air like victory, smiled and kissed me. Then we
went upstairs and made love. He made love to me and it was wonderful to
feel the real me on the pillow, to not have to worry about my wig shifting
in the night, and amazing to have that wonderful cock deep inside me. He
came so good and it was heaven.

I spent the night and felt his arms around me, comforting me, keeping me
safe. In the morning I felt his fingers in my bottom getting me ready.
Then he gently pressed into me. He felt enormous, that stiff morning wood
is like magic in my pussy. He fucked me slow, at his pace, savoring me. I
got to look into his eyes as he came. Orgasmic bliss.

End Diary Entry

And so it went. I had a boyfriend. A beautiful boyfriend with a big
heart. Looking back, this time was the most stable in my life. Ryan and I
saw each other a lot. We'd usually go to his place. Sometimes we went
out; dinner, the movies, shows; we saw the Van Halen reunion tour with
David Lee Roth from the 3rd row. Just having a lot of fun.

He saw my apartment too. I was a little nervous about that. He lived in
one of the nicest places in Massachusetts and I lived in a decent section
of one of the worst. The whole thing was nerve-racking. I didn't want him
to think I was trash. But I spruced the place up the best I could and he
saw it and he still kissed me and held me and everything was OK.

I saw my friends and partied a little bit, but I was always faithful, even
when other nice looking men tried to ply me with their smiles or their
drinks. I smiled, I flirted, I accepted the drinks sometimes, but I was
always good. I was his.

And I was me. My hair, my body, all natural. Just good hard work and
exercise for my body, constantly trying to firm it, tone it and sculpt it.
Some corset work for my figure, cinched tight and bringing my waist in and
my hips out. Tons of ass work, thigh work and core work. Lots of tanning.
Facials. Microderm abrasion. Beauty techniques of all kinds. I was a
blank canvas.

Diary Entry: December 2007

He loves me!!!!!!! He loves me!!!! I can't believe it. He said it last
night. We were having wine at his place and he pulled me to him and looked
into my eyes and said "Kristy, I love you." I told him I loved him too. I
can't believe this is happening!!

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

As I write this, it's Monday. I spent the weekend with Ryan. Just a nice,
relaxing time spent talking and fooling around and he did some work and I
tended the house and made the meals and the whole thing was just amazing.
Who says I'm not housewife material?

He asked me if I had ever been in love before and I told him no. That's
the truth. Then we got to talking about his past relationships - he hasn't
been in love either - and he asked me how many men I had been with. Fuck
me. I told him a woman never tells and that I have been completely
faithful to him since we met. That's the truth too.

We got talking about sex appeal and he asked me my thoughts about it. I
told him I thought it was important for a woman to revel in her femininity
and that sex appeal just comes with that. It's important to look good,
especially for your man. He agreed. Is there some hidden message in
there? I don't know. Does he think I'm not sexy enough? Fuck.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

Ryan asked me to move in with him!! I'm going to, too. I'll be out of
here in a little over a week and will live there even while I finish out my
rent. Goodbye old apartment. Hello new chapter.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

Where to begin? Christmas came early. There was a card on the counter for
me when I got to Ryan's, excuse me, home tonight. It said "what if you
could have the one thing (two things, actually) that you've always wanted?"

He's buying me boobs!!!! I can't fucking believe it. Just can't fucking
believe it. I'm so excited. My consult is in 2 days!!!!

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

I need to take a few minutes here and catch up on everything that's going
on. OK, here I go:

All moved in at Ryan's. I'm so loving all of this. The house is gorgeous
and he told me to feel free to make any changes if I want. I wouldn't
change a thing. I like it just the way it is. I have massive closets for
shoes!!!!

What else? Consult went great. Ryan and I talked to the doc about
different options and sizes. I'm thinking big. I've gotten pretty thin at
this point - note for posterity, 5'9" 131 pounds - and I really and truly
want some serious balloons. Problem is, there's no going back and 480cc's
are huge. I want them round rather than tear-drop so I have that sexy
upper breast fullness, even if they look a little fake. I want porn star
tits as Ryan put it. He's fresh. I want them to always be on display,
even if they're covered up. Just bursting at the seams. I want him to
always think I'm the sexiest girl in the room.

I worry about this a little. No one wants bigger tits more than me, but
he's really got me wondering if I'm not good enough for him as I am? Do I
need to be prettier?

It gets worse. I mentioned getting my lips done and he seemed like he was
all for that too. A bunch of stuff got talked about and he was good with
all of it. In the end, I'm getting my tits done, what the doctor called a
spec of liposuction at my waist, my lips done, and my nose done. I'm glad,
but I don't know how I feel about it in general because I don't understand
if Ryan really wants this because I'm not hot enough. Everything we
discussed doing with the doctor Ryan agreed with. Is he trying to remake
me?

I also have the issue of this diary. I don't want him to see it. I have
to come to terms with my past and hopefully I can talk to him about what
I've been through, but there's some graphic stuff in here that I wouldn't
want anyone who cares about me to see. I'd like to keep writing in it.
It's been like five years. I'll figure something out.

Ryan told me that I need to talk to work about my operations too. I can't
come in one day as me and then the next as big- titted-blowjob-lips me.

[Same Entry, Later]

I had a long conversation with Ryan about the surgery. I'm not really too
sure we resolved anything though. We went round and round, him telling me
he wants me to be happy, me telling him I want him to be. I asked him if
he loved me the way I am now and he said he did. He just wants me to be
real. No wigs, no corsets, no nothing; just me and only me and if that
means we need to do this or that to make that happen then he's fine with
it. He said I should be able to stand naked in front of him without
feeling self-conscious or like I should be hiding something. I couldn't
get an answer out of what makes him happy about this. All he said was that
he loved my sex appeal and wanted me to be myself and play it up.

I kind of take that as a warning or an insult. Play up my sexuality? Am I
not sexual? Sensual? I guess maybe I've slacked off a bit in the sexy
department. He does tend to see me in bare feet and snuggly clothes. But
that's for our time together. I'm comfortable! Fuck. I don't know.
Maybe I need to go more high-gloss, get back to always wearing high heels
and glitter. Would that made him happy?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

So it's done. Holy fuck. I talked to [my company] about my feelings, my
upcoming operation(s), all of it. It went OK. Makes me a little nervous.
It's a privately held company, so basically they can do whatever they want
with me. I don't think I'll get fired, but who knows? I spoke to [my
boss] and we agreed things have obviously been different for me for some
time now. It's not a new thing. He's been moderately happy with my
performance dealing with clients. That wasn't exactly a vote of
confidence. Told me he's noticed I've been leaving earlier. I couldn't
defend that. I've just been in a rush to either get to Ryan's or to get
home or whatever. I need to be better at work. When I was escorting that
took priority. I'd need to rush home to get ready or was so worn out from
the night before that I had to bail on work. Now there's Ryan, who I
desperately want to be with. The whole thing kind of sucks.

Two days to hello tits!

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

I have tits. Big ones too. More later.

OK, it's later. I'm fucking dying here, just sitting here and trying not
to move. I went through with my surgery two days ago. I'm swollen and
sore. They're huge. I went with 520cc implants and should be a full
Double D once everything settles. Right now they're so swollen I'm
probably an F. I love them already. I'm just trying not to touch them and
to just sit here. I don't know how I'm going to sleep. I can't drink
alcohol at all though, so that's good. Ryan has been a dream. He's taken
a couple days off to look after me and just keep me comfortable. He's
like, "holy shit, they are fucking big." You think? Right now they're
enormous. My face kills too. My nose. Everything hurts. I'm a full
blown mess.

Diary Entry: December 2007

Merry Christmas! Or in this case day after. Merry Day After!!!

Nine days since surgery and only a little wine to celebrate the holidays
and no coke. Yeay me. Leaving that shit behind. I've been a good girl.
And obviously no dicks since then either, since the doctor said Ryan and I
should refrain from sex and let me heal. That part sucks. I need Ryan's
cock. I've barely gotten off the couch. I had taken the time off from
work so tomorrow is the big day. Back to work. No real way to downplay
what has happened. I have two giant coconuts on my chest and major
bee-stung lips. Not anywhere near as swollen but still sore and definitely
still some bruising in my chest and on my face and nose. Hopefully some
makeup will cover it. I have to go out and get some bras. The doctor says
I'm doing fine and looking good. Sweet! No intimacy - he says - involving
my breasts for another couple of weeks. I can understand that. Things
still hurt and everything needs to settle and heal. But still, what the
fuck am I going to do for the next month? This whole thing with work is
going to get bad. Between my face and my tits I just look plastic. Plus,
I've grown my hair out to the point where it's just plain long. I'm a girl
now, no hiding it anymore. There's no way I can flatten these tits to
conceal them. They're enormous and I swear my hips have gotten bigger.
I'm all tits and ass right now.

My parents were over for a few minutes yesterday to say Merry Christmas and
see how I'm doing. My Dad nearly shit a brick. Finally hit home did it?
What gave it away - the boyfriend calling me honey or the globes on my
chest? Awesome. He held it together though. Mom was typical Mom.
Disapproving. "Oh they're too big." Thanks. No, no I feel fine thanks
for asking.

I think they both like Ryan though. They've gotten along with him both
times.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

I have to write. I left work a couple of weeks ago as a guy - albeit a
pretty one - and came in today as a woman. What the fuck else am I
supposed to do? I can't hide my fucking tits and I certainly can't hide my
lips, both of which are the size of Detroit. I have to be honest, I look
pretty plastic. They tell me that will change, which is fine. I can wait.
I really don't care what people have to say. I did my job today, so
whatever. The looks I got though. Everyone just kind of stared. I don't
think I spoke to a single person today, just a passing smile to Marcia in
the ladies room. Kind of sucks that it's the holiday break. There are so
many people out and I'd just rather get it all over with at once. I'm
meeting with my boss tomorrow. I'm sure it's about "the change."

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2007

Yup, they're pissed. I suppose I can't blame them. Biggest thing he said
was that I didn't tell him about what I was planning until just before I
did it, but fuck, how do you have that conversation? He's completely
disappointed in me, which sucks. I don't think they know what to do. I'll
probably get fired. Can you get fired for having plastic surgery?

The looks, oh man the looks I got. I went as conservative as I could the
last couple of days too. Flats and pants and as little makeup as I could
get away with. A couple of bangles and some earrings and that's it. Fuck
fuck fuck this sucks.

Ryan told me he's proud of me. Guy's a rock.

End Diary Entry

I remember this time like it was yesterday. The whole situation was
terrible. Looking back, I should have told them what I was doing sooner,
give them some chance to talk it through. Instead I just stuffed it down
their throat. Really bad decision on my part.

Diary Entry: January 2008

This is fucking ridiculous. Now people are complaining about me using the
ladies room, my boss is just plain pissed off and then they sent me in with
HR, who proceeded to try to be nice, but basically came off as
condescending as they possibly could. Fucking cunty Karen in HR. I'd love
to open my legs for her husband and keep his cum in a jar overnight so I
could put it on her desk in the morning. It's not like this wasn't coming.
They had to see it. My voice has been at its new register for a year now.
I looked like a girl before anyway, how could they not know? Plus, what
the fuck am I going to do in the ladies room? I like men.

This is a major adjustment for me. I think the surgery did something to
affect my hormones. That doesn't make any sense, but I'm crying all the
time. I cried today in my car and then I cried when I got home. I feel
like such an outcast. I basically just buried my head into Ryan's shoulder
and dumped it all on him. Some sexy girlfriend I am. This sucks.

End Diary Entry

I hung in there at work, even though at one point they talked about me
using a separate bathroom. I won't get into a lot of the specifics because
it's kind of boring and isn't one of those things that had major events.
It's subtle. You realize over time who's on your side and who isn't.
Who's out to get you or has shit to say and also who just wants you to be
happy and accepts you for who you are.

I encourage any tgirl reading my diary to write me if you are thinking
about transitioning at work. I'm no expert, but am certainly open to
sharing stories and relaying what I went through. At times it was pretty
horrible. They moved my cube. I had a couple of people call me "it" -
that's always welcome and really positive. I had a lot of people say
things to me they'd never say to another co-worker. I was called "fake
tits" and "big boobs" and "Dolly Parton." That last one was awesome. My
boobs aren't that big by a mile. They're DD. Dolly's are like an F or
something. I don't know. I like them, and I'm not Chesty Morgan or
anything. They don't define me. They're your basic too big boobs on a
girl, where you can tell they're fake but they don't look foolish. And
they're perky. There's no sag at all, which is exactly what I saw when I
closed my eyes and pictured myself with large breasts. I wanted two
perfectly round coconuts and that's exactly what I have.

Anyway, I had some people talk a lot of shit about me. I had a couple
people that I barely knew say really nice things. And I even had one guy
ask me out, which I thought was pretty courageous because I was definitely
a polarizing person. I said no thanks, but I definitely appreciated it.

Part of my problem stems from me withdrawing into myself at work. I was
pretty outgoing for a time. Once I started hooking though I slowly
retreated into my own world. I'm not sure why that was, but it happened.
And then by the time I met Ryan and found some temporary stability I was
already too far gone. I was the quiet, androgynous person at work. An
outcast. Then I had my surgeries and while my body certainly took on the
shape of a very outgoing girl, I was gun-shy to do anything about it at the
office. No matter how bad I wanted to, I couldn't be a sex bomb. It would
have made things worse. Besides, I had a boyfriend. I wasn't looking for
any male attention.

But I managed to keep my job and my body healed and took on a more natural
look, even after some facial work I had done on Ryan's suggestion about 6
weeks after my boob job. I settled into the new me. And boy did I love
it. As I re-read my entries, I can actually feel my attitude changing. I
can see my spunk and sauciness returning. A whole new sort of confidence.

Diary Entry: March 2008

When I get home ahead of Ryan I've taken to greeting him in a g-string, bra
and fuck me heels. That sort of thing is good for a girl's sex life. God
I love my new tits. They've done exactly what I had hoped - complete body
transformation. Two juicy and perky breasts standing at attention,
tapering to a trim waist, a firm butt and toned legs. I really feel like
I'm looking good. Yeah, there's still things I'd change but this is a
major difference. I really feel more feminine and like a total chick now.
And I can tuck my clit so good. Everything just goes away and all my lines
have never been smoother.

Thinking of changing my hair color. I don't know how I would look as a
blonde, but I'm thinking about it. Do they have more fun? Ryan's down
with the change and it might be great to just cut loose. I don't know.
Part of me is like, how many big titted blondes does the world need? The
other part of me is saying go for it. Just be fun and flirty and happy
with whatever comes your way.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2008

I'm back to working out. Praise the lord. I had gotten out of my routine
- moving, surgery, work issues - all of a sudden I didn't feel like I had
the time. And now the distractions are gone. Funny how that works. I'm
getting locked in; running a couple of miles a day again (2.5 today) and
doing some good core and butt exercises, some light arm stuff. Yummy. And
such a fucking blast to be able to throw on a sports bra and feel like
you're going to rip it at the seams. I love that. Bare midriff, the whole
nine yards. And yes, I confess, I am one of those girls who work out
wearing makeup. Sue me. I'm back to feeling sexy. Ryan's noticed and he
definitely loves it. When I met him I was a crazy girl and I think he
liked that about me. And then it kind of got lost. Well, I am proud to
say it is fucking back baby. Now take your slut to bed and bend her over.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2008

What an amazing night. So fun. It's 1:30AM as I type this. I don't like
keeping things from Ryan, but the whole thing is really so good and I just
felt like I needed to write. Had some of the girls over tonight - Shauna,
Amber, Michelle, Kara; total blast. Ryan was the perfect host and
gentleman. We had some drinks, some dinner and just generally had girl
talk even though a boy was there. So much good news. Shauna is going in
for more surgery now that she's seen mine. Could be a new pair of boobs in
the offing. Amber is just her awesome self; totally hot-bitchy and fun.
If I go blonde we're going to look a bit alike; two big titted, blonde
chicas. Michelle and Kara are both doing awesome. Everyone's in a good
place. Everything just so. Lots of laughs. I think we're going out this
weekend - just the girls. I think it'll be nice to get back into a regular
social routine.

They left around 11:00 and then Ryan took me to bed, where he gently
undressed me, ever the gentleman by leaving my thigh highs and heels on and
then proceeded to make beautiful love to me. God I love the way his cock
feels. At one point when I was riding him cowgirl he pulled my heels up to
his shoulders. Then I laid back so my head was at his feet, his hard cock
still deep inside my pussy. I was on top of him, but we moved at his pace
and he gently brought his hips up and down, sliding back and forth within
me. It was hot and something completely new. Heavenly.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I had to have his cum, so I sat back
up and rode him, grinding his hard cock into my g-spot and then feeling the
beautiful release build inside me until my body convulsed and the honey
began to flow in watery streams from my clit. Seconds later Ryan's hips
bucked and he filled my flower with his delicious seed. We collapsed in a
heap as his cum slowly leaked out of me.

I've never been happier.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2008

Well I did it! I'm a blonde! Ryan called me his blonde bombshell, which
couldn't make me happier. He loves it when I embrace my feminine and
sexual side and I'm all for that. Anything to make it hotter in the
bedroom, hotter during the day when we're apart. I want him to want me
like he's never wanted another woman ever. I want to make him bow to me,
my sexuality, to physically need it. To need my pussy and the thrills I
give him.

Boy, if I thought I was a bimbo before, this blonde thing seals it. I'm
all tits and ass and now I've got these lovely golden tresses on top of my
head. I can only imagine what work will think. I'm definitely going to
the office tomorrow in all black, just a nice little contrast to my new
hair. And fuck them, I'm wearing fuck me heels too. Get used to it
fuckers.

Tomorrow night with the girls. They're going to go nuts when they see the
new me.

End Diary Entry

It took me over two weeks to get back to my journal after that last entry.
Everything was going so great and then in one instant, everything went
horribly wrong.

Diary Entry: April 2008

Things just aren't like they used to be. I've gone from feeling like I had
it all to having nothing. Let me start from the beginning I guess. I
don't even know if I can type the words. I'm just sitting here in a daze.
Useless. Dirty. I'm the lowest person on earth. Damaged.

I don't know what happened.

I went out with the girls to [I'll leave the club name out of it] and
everything was great. We shot the shit, had some drinks and danced a
little. I saw one of those fucking guys in the club, I know I did, because
I saw him looking at me. At us. Around 11:30 Shauna left because she had
to get up early the next day. That left Amber, Kara and I. Around 12:30
Kara left with Gary [a guy we knew who had the hots for Kara]. When Amber
and I left, she grabbed a cab and I remember her asking me if I wanted the
taxi to take me to my car and I told her I was fine, that my car was no
more than a 5-minute walk from the club. I figured the short walk would do
me good since I had to drive home and had had too much to drink.

I talked to a couple of people on the sidewalk that were leaving too and
then I started walking to my car. I was a couple of hundred feet down the
road when a car drove past, stopped and then backed up. It was the guy
from the club who was looking over at us earlier in the night. He had a
friend in the car with them and asked me if I wanted to party. I told them
no and kept walking. He kept rolling slowly alongside me, bugging me and
telling me I should get in. It got creepy. I should have ran or called
Ryan or the police or done something besides still going to my car.
Stupid. But I crossed the street to where my car was and I should have had
the keys at the ready and just got in, but I didn't. I had to fish for
them. I should have just kept walking by because up around the corner from
where I was is a pretty good sized intersection. Instead, I fished for the
keys in my purse. I was on a darker part of the street and the driver's
buddy got out of the car and took a couple steps toward me. I thought for
a second about running and I should have. He pulled out a knife and I
froze. He told me to get into the car. I should have screamed.

I got in and felt a whole range of emotions; fear, anger. I was definitely
sober right then and there. They drove me to a parking lot maybe a half
mile from where my car was. Then the driver got into the backseat with me
and the knife guy and that was it. They were on me the second he closed
the door. One guy ripped my shirt and the other guy tore at my skirt and
panties. I felt his hand grab hold of me down there. That was when they
evidently discovered I was a tgirl. How the fuck could they not have
known? We were in a gay/tgirl club. I know for a fact I saw that fucking
guy in there. My clit clearly made them mad and they started hitting me.
I distinctly remember one of them saying "fucking shemale." Someone
punched me in the face about a dozen times. They were calling me a
"faggot" and other shit. Then they threw me out of the car.

I thought at that point it was over. It wasn't. One of them got out and
kicked me a couple of times. I got kicked in the head and the stomach. My
clothes were rags.

I was laying there and I thought they were done. I remember thinking "it's
OK. It's going to be OK. You're intact." I was all adrenaline and
nothing seemed to hurt. I remember I kept waiting for the car to leave. I
kept waiting for them to back up or pull out or something. It felt like
forever. Then the whole thing turned into a nightmare because I heard one
of them say, "I'm still going to fuck her." I remember my head screaming
"no!" and I tried to get to my feet. Too slow.

They dragged me back into the car by my hair. The friend of the driver
held my hands. I screamed and he punched me in the face and told me to
shut up. I'll never forget that as long as I live; being held at
knifepoint and being told to shut up. Then the driver ripped off what was
left of my panties and pushed into me. No lube, no nothing. I cried out
but it didn't fucking matter at that point. There wasn't anyone around
anyway. So I took it, on my knees in the back of some guy's car, while his
friend held my arms. He pulled my hair and rode me the whole time like
some fucking horse; rough, mean, like I was subhuman. To him I was. Just
some hole he could violate. Then he came inside me and the guy holding my
arms let them go. I had been raped. There, I said it. I've been
raped. And I'm never going to be the same.

I hoped maybe his release would calm the violence but I was wrong. His
friend punched me again. I was back out of the car for another kick to my
head. I laid there in the fetal position. Finally they drove off. I
never got the license plate. I should have. But I didn't.

I managed to get up and get myself back to my car. I wasn't looking for
help, but something occurred to me as I limped back to my car; the blouse
hanging off of me, my tits basically out, my skirt ripped, by face bleeding
- no one stopped to ask if I was alright. Society.

I got back to my car and managed to drive home, trying to make sense of
what had happened. Where had it all gone wrong? I pulled into the garage
and saw myself in the light. I was a mess. I tried to put myself back
together before Ryan saw me. That's when I noticed. At first I thought it
was residual or leakage from the driver. This was different. When I
looked close at the front of me, I realized it was mine; that my own cum
was half dry. Some of it was still dripping down the front of me. I had
cum while I was raped.

I don't remember feeling it. I don't remember any of the sensations or
what was going through my head at the time. All I know is that I had cum
while this was happening to me. My emotions overwhelmed me. I went down
to a knee and then slid slowly onto the floor of the garage between the
cars. Then I passed out. That's how Ryan found me.

He got me up and got me inside. Ryan wanted me to go to the hospital. I
didn't want to do that. He wanted to call an ambulance. He wanted me to
go to the police. I didn't want to do those things either. He thought I
could have internal bleeding. I begged him to just hold me and leave me be
and I am grateful he allowed that. I just wanted to take a shower and go
to bed. I was, and remain, horrified by what had happened. I don't even
know what the police would do. How could anyone be charged with rape if
their victim came during the assault? It's too fucked up to even think
about.

I woke the next day to a body full of soreness. To say I had a black eye
doesn't do it justice. My whole face was bruised. My whole body was, for
the most part. Ryan convinced me to see my plastic surgeon and I was lucky
in that my face and my breasts were OK. I had (have) two cracked ribs, 12
cuts and bruises all over. He said I'd be up and around in about a week
and he was right. It's been a couple weeks since then and physically I'm
improved. Mentally, I'm a mess. Everything spilled out of me the night of
the doctor's visit. I was laying in bed when Ryan came in.

"How you doing?" he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm OK," I said. And at the time I was.

"Listen. I was thinking about this," he said. "You have to go to the
police."

We had talked about this a couple of times before and he told me he would
respect my wishes to leave it be. "Ryan, I can't. We discussed this. I
don't have a plate number. I barely have a description."

"But there's other girls out there. They'll do this again."

I didn't say anything.

"Let's just call them. File a report."

"I don't want to."

"Why?" he asked. "We need to do something. I keep thinking of those
fuckers and what they did to you."

"I know. But please, just leave it alone."

"Look," he said. "I don't want to push you. But I think we should call
the police and at least file a report."

"Ryan! No!" I shouted. At that moment I felt like he knew. I know he
didn't. He actually was probably going to completely back off. But I felt
like he knew. I felt like my shame could be spotted from a mile away. I
was all fucked up and just dead tired and sore and feeling completely torn
up inside about what happened. There just wasn't any way I could live with
this secret. Not the way I was feeling. I had kept the hooking from him
and now there was this. I started bawling because I knew I was going to
tell him.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

I buried my head into his shoulder. "I came." Emotionally I was gone.

"What?"

"It was all over the front of me."

"What was?"

"My cum," I mumbled. "I came when he was fucking me."

"Kristy, honey, it was something else." [Amazing man. I'm sure this was
processing in his brain and he was looking for a way out.]

"No," I blubbered. "I know what it was!" I was inconsolable.

Ryan held me. It felt so good, so needed, and yet I knew inside he had
turmoil.

When I calmed down he asked me if I had cheated on him and we got into a
huge fight because that was obviously not the case and what sort of person
beats the shit out of themselves to cover up a one-night stand? After
everything that had happened, I was beyond upset at his question. He left
the room. I cried myself to sleep; bruised inside and out.

End Diary Entry

The Title Track OR The Dogging Diaries

It took me a while to begin writing in my diary again. They say rape
changes a person. I know it changed me. It changed my relationship with
Ryan completely. He was there for me, comforting me, helping me, but
things were never the same after that. What was this beautiful, amazing
love became distorted. I think he looked at me differently. In fact, I
know he did.

My physical injuries healed over time. It took a while. It wasn't
mentioned in the diary entry, but my lovely new nose was cracked during the
assault. In the process of getting it reset, Ryan thought it would be wise
to get a cranioplastly, which for those that don't know, reshapes your
forehead into a more feminine shape. I ended up getting that procedure
done as well. The whole process took weeks of recovery and during that
time Ryan suggested to me that I should leave my job. I talked to him at
length about my work and he made the case that I was better off without it;
that I should focus on healing with him and being with him. At the time it
seemed like a dream scenario. Here was this incredible guy who clearly
cared for me, a man of means and no worries in the world, asking me to be
with him, telling me I'd be taken care of. We discussed it a couple of
times and then we made the decision to pull the plug. I still wasn't
healed yet, so I resigned over the phone, something I regret to this day.
A person should have the decency to resign in person. In fairness, they
weren't thrilled with me at my job and given the time needed to heal, they
might have fired me anyway, but they hadn't yet and who knows how that
would have turned out?

So I quit. And I healed. And when I did I looked better than I ever had
before. I was 5'9" and weighed 126 pounds. My face had been reshaped
twice, sculpted even, into a picture of femininity. My forehead had been
reduced. My nose had been thinned twice, my lips were bee-stung and pretty,
my cheekbones naturally high. I had beautiful DD melons that could not
have been firmer or perkier. My waist was thin, my hips and ass round and
fuckable. I had good curves. It seemed that I finally was the total
package. Even I, my own worst critic by far, could see that I was pretty,
curvaceous and sexy.

And all of that beauty was going to waste. After the assault, I wasn't
interested in doing much of anything, certainly not sex or exploring my
sexuality. According to Ryan, I became "frigid." Here's an excerpt from
an entry in June.

"... I really just want him to hold me. He keeps telling me that our
intimacy will help me and maybe it will. I'm just not in the mood. Can't
the guy just pull me close to him until I'm ready?"

And I wasn't ready. So I tended to the house and tended to myself,
focusing on healing from within. I cried alone a lot. Going through what
I went through is, in my opinion, a no-win situation. It changes your
viewpoint on things in life forever. Even Ryan, who I loved and who was
kind, when I looked at him, sometimes I would begin to think about what I
would do if he hit me or forced himself on me. What could I have done? He
would have overpowered me. He could have beaten the shit out of me. He
never would have, but those are the things you think about. You question
people. You question yourself. It took me months to be intimate with him
again and it caused a lot of problems. Even when I thought I was over the
hump, I wasn't.

Diary Entry: July 2008

We had it out again tonight. That makes six times in the last seven days
or something. All of these fights. I can't take it. I don't blame the
guy when I think about it. I really don't. He signed up for a good-time
girl and he got Debbie Downer. I totally understand. I just have a major
block on this right now. I used to be so open and free and sexual, to the
point where I was pretty much up for getting fucked every single second of
every single day. And now, I just can't seem to do it. I feel like my
pussy is dirty or something. I don't know. I need to see somebody.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2008

Well, I did it. It came from a good place. Ryan and I kissed like we
hadn't kissed in months and then one thing led to another and he carried me
up to the bedroom and laid me down and we fooled around and then he made
love to me. I tried to stop a couple of times, but he pressed and I didn't
want to deny him. I have a lot of emotions running through me right now -
not all of them bad - and for that I am happy.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2008

Big fight tonight. Evidently I'm a whore and I wanted to be raped. That's
what he said to me. Said I seemingly had no problem being with other guys,
but that I'm not interested in being with him because I didn't want to make
love tonight. Is he fucking serious?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2008

This is becoming a pattern. Tonight he threw his wine in my face because I
stopped kissing him and asked him to hold me. He told me he wants his
Kristy back, whatever that means. Fuck it. I know what it means. He
wants the slutty me back I guess. You want me back - how about you fucking
read my diary and see how bad you really want me?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2008

We went at it again two nights ago and tonight with almost no conversation
in between. Same problem. "Let me make love to you." "Can't I get a
blowjob?" At one point he was yelling at me because I haven't been giving
him the courtesy of at least a handjob to release his daily stress. What
does the guy want from me? Does he just want me to spread my legs and take
it? I'm just not ready. The whole night sucked. My life sucks.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2008

I tried my best tonight to make Ryan happy. I put on a sexy black dress
and had a nice dinner waiting for him when he got home. We didn't talk
much during dinner. He was still pretty grumpy. But I put a smile on my
face and let him take me to bed and fuck me. That's what it felt like to
me - getting fucked. I definitely don't think I was made love to. He
fucked me and came inside me and then I got up to clean myself up and he
was asleep when I came back.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2008

Ryan told me tonight that I'm not the girl he fell in love with. I'm not
sure I've ever cried so hard in my life. Am I different? I know the sex
part of my life is different, but am I different? Am I not nice? Am I not
caring? Not fun to be around? Not sexy? Not cute? Not smart? I'm at a
total loss and I feel like I'm losing him. Maybe I've already lost him.
That's the part that hurts so bad. I have this pain in my chest that won't
go away. I feel like my heart has broken.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2008

He told me he thinks I should move out. That things are not the same
anymore. I can't do that. I can't lose him.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: August 2008

I can't shut myself off anymore. I have to go on living. Get some rape
counseling or something in the process, but I have to go on living. I
can't be like this anymore. I need to find myself. Find the reasons and
things that made me the person I am. Why did Ryan fall in love with me?

I was sexy. I was always in a good mood. I was funny and sunny. I could
carry on a conversation about a lot of things. I was caring and kind. I
loved sucking cock and getting fucked. I liked to party. I was easy. I
was easy to be around. I wasn't the fucking bummer girl that I've become.
I was a fucking shameless whore with a smile on my face.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2008

Yesterday was the day I was supposed to move out. The day I was supposed
to lose Ryan forever. I'm still fucking here. I got myself up yesterday
morning and went for a run. I got my ass out of bed, tucked my clitty and
slipped into a sexy cotton g- string and a pair of tight, gray yoga pants
and running shoes. I added a tight (everything is tight on my breasts)
Nike sports bra, tied my hair in a pony and did my makeup. Then I went out
and ran six fucking miles. I came back and showered and took the other
Mercedes into the center and got a spray tan. Now I have a nicely bronzed
body and a sexy little tan line from the thong I wore. I had to wait until
the tan set before I could wear any tight clothes so I went through my
closet and tossed out anything even remotely drab, comfy or complacent.
What remains are club dresses, short skirts, tight blouses, lots of
lingerie, panties and bras and a bunch of sexy mother-fucking high heel
shoes. I tossed the great majority of my makeup and went out and got all
new product. Lastly, the salon - where I got a cut and a color that turns
heads. No more "rape me" blonde, I got a dark cherry color that is
anything but subtle without looking foolish. It's fucking sexy and better
for my complexion, even with the tan. This is brunette sex bomb hair all
the way.

I got home and gave myself two enemas to make sure my cunt was honeyed and
clean. Then I made up my face, smoking out my eyes with catlike precision.
I used plenty of glitter on my lashes and plum lips. I slipped into a
black g-string, black fence net thigh highs, 5" black Pleaser fuck me pumps
and put black electrical tape over my nipples. I skipped the bra, because
I wanted my tits on full display for Ryan. Are you going to give this up?
Better think twice. Then I added a black ribbon choker, teased the fuck
out of my hair, opened some wine and did a couple of lines from my still
existing coke stash. Then I waited.

Ryan came home, saw me, saw the outfit, saw the wine, saw the coke, had a
sip, did a line and then bent me over the couch and fucked me deep and
hard. I didn't cum, but he did and there was no fucking way I was going to
let him go soft and have that be it, so when he slid out of me I dropped to
my knees and stuffed his cock into my mouth, lovingly sucking him until his
dick could reload and reharden. I loved being on my knees for this man. I
used to fucking love it. And now I better love it again. I looked up at
him with his dick in my mouth and he smiled at me. A smile I hadn't seen
in a long time. When he was ready again I spun around and got on all fours
and offered my pussy to him. He took it, for about 30 minutes this time,
fucking me long and deep, reaching around me to play with my DD tits.
Finally I felt him harden that extra bit and I reached between my legs to
push his balls into his center and feel his payload dump deep within me.
We collapsed in a heap.

"Where did that come from?" he asked after catching his breath.

"A good place," was all I said.

We partied for about 7 hours after that. Drinking wine, listening to Led
Zeppelin, doing lines - I gave him a lingering blowjob around 11:00. We
finally went to bed around 3:00AM. I slept in my thigh highs and heels,
just in case he woke in the night and looked at me. I wanted him to see
how sexy I could be.

We were both pretty banged up this morning, but he fucked me again before
he left for work. My cunt and thighs are actually sore. I have a similar
day planned today. Exercise, get sexy, get fucked. I'm not going down
without a fight.

End Diary Entry

Well, I admire my spirit. Re-reading that entry, I can totally understand
where my head was at, but at the same time, I wasn't in any emotional shape
to just dive into having sex all the time again. I wasn't doing it to keep
living there. I know that for a fact, because it never ended up in an
entry and I don't ever remember having a woe-is-me attitude of "where the
fuck am I going to live?" I wasn't desperate for a home, I was desperate
for him. I needed Ryan and it's pretty clear to me that I would have done
anything for him once I got to this point of throwing caution to the wind.

Diary Entry: September 2008

I greeted Ryan last night in a red cotton miniskirt, black thigh highs and
6" red, platform pumps with ankle straps. I had iced my nipples down when
I heard him pull in to the driveway so they were standing at attention when
my man got home. He didn't waste any time taking my skirt off and before
long he was licking my pussy and getting it ready for him. I grabbed his
cock and got it hard for me and then he plunged right in. He gave me a
good fuck for about 20 minutes before he came inside me. He fucked me
again right before we fell asleep.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2008

What a day! Ryan took my shopping and spent a fortune on me. Tahari,
Gucci, the whole deal. We went to a sex shop and got a bunch of new toys.
I got a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes that were like $800 or something.
I blew him in the car on the way home to say "thank you" like a good girl
should. I'm truly blessed.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2008

What a fucked up night. As I write this it's 4:00 AM. Ryan took me out to
dinner. He said he wanted to show me off, so he picked out my outfit -
short, tight Nicole Miller little black cocktail dress with a plunging
neckline that put my tits on display, no bra, tiny black g-string, black
ultrasheer thigh highs with a seam up the back, 5" black peep toe Louboutin
pumps and a black ribbon choker. He told me to tease out my hair and that
really any amount of makeup wasn't enough, so I went nuts on my eyes,
cheeks and lips. Lots of bronzer and too much glitter. He said I looked
perfect. I was certainly a painted whore. We played a game in the car
where I took his cock out and rubbed it the whole way without making him
cum. By the time we got to [Boston wine bar] his sex drive was on
overload, which is evidently just the way he wanted it.

We started with Veuve Cliquot champagne at a little corner table
overlooking the street. The bubbly was delicious and went right to my
head. Before long we moved on to Pavillon Rouge, the second wine from
famed Chateau Margaux. Unbelievably good red wine. I was having a blast,
all dolled up and pretty, feeling sexy, staring at my beautiful boyfriend.
Ryan ordered a cheese plate and we nibbled and talked and flirted with one
another and it felt so fucking good to be out in a vanilla social setting
with my man. It had been so long since I had been out. It felt so good to
know that I looked good enough to be in a tight, short, head-turning outfit
in a "regular" place without having the fear of being "made" as a tgirl.
Euphoria. The feeling I've been waiting for since I started this journey.
I've never wanted to be a hot tgirl. I've always wanted to be a hot chick.
I felt so good, looking down at my new Louboutin shoes, their trademark red
soles calling attention to me and their sky-high heels. So fucking sexy.
And that's exactly the way I felt.

Ryan had ordered us another bottle of wine and I was getting soused and
just enjoying my time back in society. In this case, upscale society. And
I was rocking the cocktail dress well.

I was facing Ryan, who was seated in a corner of the bar area, so I could
only see him but he could see the whole place. Evidently there was a man
at the bar who had looked over at us a few times while we were sitting
there. Ryan told me this was happening and told me not to look. He wanted
me to tease the guy, since our voyeur could only see the back of me but
could certainly see my legs and heels from his vantage point.

"Take a sip of wine ... and as you do, let your dress ride up high enough
to expose your stocking tops."

Who was I to argue? Our hero wasn't looking right when I did it, but he
noticed shortly thereafter.

"Is he looking?" I giggled. I was getting drunk and between Ryan's cock in
the car and this new game I was becoming horny as hell.

"Oh, he's looking," Ryan said. I think he likes what he sees.

I smiled. "What's more important to me is you like what you see."

"I sure do," he said, smiling back at me.

"Reach down and pretend you're fixing something on your shoe," he said.
"As you do, make sure your shoulders are back so he gets a full silhouette,
and then let your dress ride higher. Then turn and check out our boy."

I did and when I looked it was clear that we had the full attention of our
guy. He was staring at us rather than facing the bar. I admit, it felt
good to be noticed in that way. Tom was mature, not old, but not a kid.
Maybe mid 40s, with dark, full hair and blue eyes. Slim, with a sharp
nose. He was wearing a navy suit with a light blue shirt and a red tie.
The guy had style. Still, I really just wanted to spend time with my own
guy. But this little game was making him happy and if he wanted to play it
I wasn't going to stop him. I love seeing him smile. And I loved looking
down at my delicate legs, all shapely and feminine, framed by my high
heels.

Before long another bottle of Rouge arrived, compliments of our friend at
the bar. The whole thing was classic. This was a $200 bottle of wine
coming from this guy. The waitress popped the cork, we both had a sip and
then Ryan raised his glass to our friend.

I excused myself to use the ladies room, and as I did Ryan told me I should
make sure to walk slow and seductively. He really wanted me to drive this
guy wild. I did and then slipped into the ladies room and sat to pee.
[Boston wine bar] is a bistro type of place with locking doors on a
bathroom built for one. To be honest, I thought I had locked the door - I
always lock the door in a situation like that - but evidently it either
didn't work or didn't catch because next thing I knew I was pulling up my
panties, the door opened and there was Ryan, sliding in unannounced and
hopefully unseen. I smiled at him and was about to protest - I was having
such a good time and I didn't want to get in trouble - but I could tell by
look on his face that he meant business and I should know my role.

Ryan took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. I swooned and before long I
felt his hands under my dress and felt my panties being pulled down. It
was on and I wasn't going to stop it, frantically undoing his belt, button
and zipper and taking his already hard cock in my hands. He pushed me to
the sink and slid behind me, lifting my dress and driving his tongue into
my pussy. We had no lube but he certainly didn't care, spitting on his
hand and slicking his cock with it before pushing against my hungry cunt.
I bore down to give him open access and his cock slid to the hilt as I
moaned in ecstasy. This wasn't a lovemaking session, it was an urgent
bathroom fuck and Ryan wanted it hard and fast so I bent at the waist,
bowed my head and let him take my pussy at his pace.

All of the foreplay in the car and in the bar had pushed him to the edge
and it wasn't long before I felt his dick harden just that little bit extra
and then two strokes later he moaned into my ear and I felt his delicious
cock pumping its payload deep inside me. I must have been a whorish
picture, my dress rolled up around my waist, panties locked at my spread
knees, my red-soled spike heels, all the while his cum coating my just-used
ass outside and in.

He pulled my hair, bringing my head back to him and stuck his tongue down
my throat. Then he zipped up and left. I cleaned myself the best I could,
touched up my makeup and headed back to the table, glad to have gotten Ryan
off and happy we hadn't been spotted.

I left the bathroom and came around the corner towards our table. Our
friend from the bar was sitting at it talking to Ryan. In the course of
getting fucked in the bathroom, I had completely forgotten about him. I
walked up to the table and he offered me my chair back, sliding a third one
over from a nearby open sitting.

"Kristy, this is Tom," said Ryan, introducing us.

I said "hello" and he said "hi." I was still flushed from the fucking.

"Tom was wondering if we wanted to go back to his place," explained Ryan.
He was looking at me funny. "Have a drink. Maybe do some blow?"

So that was it. Ryan and I had never done a lot of coke together. Sure we
had had some on a few random nights, but my stash was dwindling and he had
only ever brought some home one time. The whole thing seemed a little out
of the ordinary and I was definitely confused as to why-this, why-now.

"It's up you, honey," I said. I wanted Tom to make sure he knew Ryan and I
were together.

Ryan paused for a moment and then answered, "I think we should."

"That settles it then," said Tom. "I'll go get us a taxi."

Tom excused himself from the table.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know. We're having fun, a nice night - and now there's just this
guy hanging around."

"I just want to keep the party going," Ryan explained.

Tom was back and said the taxi would be there in 5 minutes. We emptied the
bottle of wine into three glasses and each drank it down. Once we were
done we went out to the street to wait for the cab. Tom had a cigarette
and offered us each one. We both declined. I would have loved to have had
one, but my date had just taken a sharp curve and I wasn't in the mood to
accept anything from the reason why.

The ride to Tom's was uneventful small talk. It turns out our boy did
pretty well for himself. I missed the address when he gave it to the
cabbie but I recognized the streets on the ride and before long we were in
front of a Boston brownstone in one of the nicest areas of town.

We took the elevator up and it opened into a gorgeous three floor condo
with all the trimmings - hardwoods, skylights, modern design and feel. The
classic well-to-do bachelor pad I suppose.

Tom went to his wine fridge to get us a drink while Ryan and I took a quick
look around and made ourselves comfortable.

Tom was back with the wine before long. "Pavillon Rouge is nice, but I
prefer the real thing," he said, holding a bottle of 1995 Chateau Margaux.
Amazing wine. Probably $600 bucks a bottle.

He poured the wine, disappeared again and came back with a good-sized
baggie of coke. "This is the real deal," he said. "About as pure as you
can get." I hadn't done much cocaine recently, but my mouth still watered.

Tom chopped out several good sized lines on a 12" x 12" mirror he seemed to
keep for just the right occasion. I say this because he also had three
perfectly good (and clean) straws ready to go. The guy seemed like a pro.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to me. I picked up a straw, put it
delicately to my nose and did half the first line with my left nostril and
then the other half with my right, taking the powder deep into my body as
the familiar feeling washed over me. I looked up when I was done.

"There's plenty," Tom said. "Don't be shy."

I did a second line and then a third before offering the plate to Tom. He
deferred to Ryan who did a couple of lines. Finally Tom did as well. He
was right - it was good cocaine. I could feel it making my body buzz.

And so it went. Sipping wine, doing more lines, talking, laughing. Tom
had made his money in real estate. I don't remember much else about him,
other than he seemed to have plenty of money and plenty of blow.

I'm not sure exactly how much time went by - a couple of hours anyway. We
were all getting pretty fucked up, and when that happens, the topic
inevitably turns to sex. Somehow blowjobs came up, through some story that
one of them was telling. It must have been Tom telling the story because -
I remember this - Ryan made some offhand comment about how "Kristy gives
great blowjobs." Tom picked up on it and was evidently interested. The
whole thing was fucked up. I remember being able to think straight enough
to know that this wasn't going in a good direction. I love sex and can
talk about it all day, but I was on a date with my boyfriend and didn't
particularly want to get into a sex conversation with some other dude.

But it kept going in that direction. I didn't know (and still don't know)
what the hell had gotten into Ryan. We spent most of our nights together
in, so it's not as if we had this long track record or anything, but he
always seemed like a protective type of guy and he loves me. But the
conversation kept going down the sex road. Ryan was doing lines and
talking about my tits and the sex we've had and then slurs "It's OK love,
he knows you're a tgirl."

What? Like where the fuck did that come from - and where the fuck was I
when this little piece of information was being discussed? I didn't know
what to say, so I just brushed it off the best I could. I was pretty
fucked up at the time, so it's not like I was mortified - I was just trying
to go with the flow - but I remember that comment bugged me. And he kept
going on.

"She's all real too - her hair's real, lashes, curves, those tits are real,
well, and" he laughed, "really well paid for. Same with the face. All
paid for. She's perfect. Built for sin."

Then Tom started talking about how exotic I look and how being a tgirl only
makes me more so. I buried my head into another couple of lines of coke.
I was gone. Ryan was fucked up. We all were.

Ryan kept babbling about what a good girl I was in bed. Whatever. Tom was
interested. I could tell, even in my drug-filled fog. Then Ryan unzipped
his pants and took out his dick. Bad news.

"Ryan, honey, not now," I tried to get through to him, but he seemed pretty
fucked up.

"Show him, baby. Show him how good you suck my dick."

I had been kneeling on the floor doing the coke and sipping my wine while
the guys were on the couch. I got up to leave.

"Ryan, honey. We should really get going," I said.

Then I apologized to Tom. "I'm sorry. He's normally not like this."

I went over to try and get Ryan up. He grabbed at my hair and tried
pushing my face down into his lap. I pulled away and he laughed.

"Ryan baby, no. We have to go."

I looked at Tom, who looked on, clearly amused at the scene before him.

"Suck my dick," Ryan tried again.

"No honey. Not right now. Let's get going."

I was just about to ask for Tom's help when some kind of switch flipped.

"Suck my fucking dick, bitch!" shouted Ryan. Now he was going to yell at
me? I was stunned. I looked at Tom, not sure of what to do.

Ryan looked at me. His eyes were open. He was completely stewed, I could
see that, but he seemed coherent enough to know what he wanted. I looked
at Tom, not sure whether to blow my boyfriend in his house or what. He
just shrugged.

"Suck it!" Ryan shouted again.

If this was a bad situation before, it had just gotten worse. I didn't
know what to do. Ryan seemed awake. Tom wasn't any help. Fine, I
thought. Fuck it. I got back down on my knees in between the couch and
the coffee table and took Ryan's cock in my mouth. It was limp, but still
clearly felt good, because Ryan moaned as I did it.

"See that," he said to Tom. "My girl likes to suck cock, don't you?"

I looked up at him and mumbled "mmm-hmmm" with a mouthful of his limp dick.
I sucked him for a few minutes but there was no way he was going to get
hard after all the drinks and the coke. Some guys can and some guys can't,
that's just the way it is. In Ryan's case, it wasn't going to happen.

I took him out of my mouth. "Ryan honey, we should get going."

He looked at me and I could see there was anger or something in his eyes.
Embarrassment? I don't know.

"She doesn't want to suck my dick anymore," he said to Tom. Then he looked
at me. "Do you want to suck his?"

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

"No Ryan, honey. Let's go." I tried to lift him back up.

"No," he said. "Show him."

"No, Ryan, let's go honey."

"Fucking show him, Kristy!" he yelled. "Suck him."

My face went red. What a fucking disaster. I didn't know whether he
really wanted this or what.

"Suck his dick," he said.

My heart broke.

I looked at Tom, hoping for some help but all the fucking guy did was unzip
his pants and push them to his knees. His stiff prick bobbed at attention.

I looked back at Ryan and he glared at me. He was serious.

I shuffled over in front of Tom and eyed his 7" cock for a second. Then I
closed my eyes, prayed I was doing the right thing and took his cock into
my mouth. Tom moaned and I felt his prick harden a little more.

"See that?" Ryan said. "Told you."

Tom moaned again and then managed "You were right."

I wanted to get this over with so we could get the fuck out of there, so I
skipped any loving caresses of his dick and just concentrated on getting
the job done, taking Tom's cock deep down my throat and using my hands on
each thrust. He responded well to my methods; moaning, gripping the couch,
cooing at me.

"She feels so good," said Tom.

I took him deep down my throat again.

"Look at me," he commanded. I didn't want to. But he told me to again and
that time I did. I gave him the dominant status he wanted when I looked up
at him through doe eyes, his hard cock buried in my throat.

Then he looked at Ryan. "Can I fuck her?"

I moaned into his cock in a panic and protest. No fucking chance.

"Yeah, man, you should definitely fuck her." Yeah man? Are we hippies
now? Did I miss the Bob Marley joints? What the fuck is going on?

Tom pulled my mouth off his dick and got up, presumably to get a rubber or
some lube or something. That was my chance.

"Ryan, get the fuck up - now. I don't want to fuck this guy. Let's go."

"Kristy," he said. "Fucking chill out. He's a good guy. Show him a good
time. Here," he said reaching for the coke, "do some more blow."

"I don't want any more blow. I want to get the fuck out of here."

"Stay, Kristy. Let him fuck you. You deserve it."

I had, and still have, no idea what that meant. Tom came back in the room
with some lube. He looked at me and I looked at him. Fuck this. I bent
down and did two big lines of coke. Then I got up off the floor, dropped
my dress and slid my panties down. I stood in front of this man, this
stranger, and realized he was only the second person to see my new breasts,
my new face, my feminine figure - and my little clit.

"That's my girl," applauded Ryan.

I smiled at Ryan - the fucking idiot - and Tom slid his pants off and held
his pole up. He wanted me on top of him? No fucking way. There was no
way I was going to straddle that cock on the couch, my new tits grinding
into his face, our mouths close to a kiss. If I was going to do this, it
was going to be a fuck and nothing more. I grabbed Tom by the hand and
pulled him off the couch. I took his place on it, offering my ass to him.
I felt the familiar grease hit my cunt lips and his stick pressed against
my hole. Then he pushed in with a grunt.

Ryan reached over and tweaked one of my nipples. At that time, I wanted to
slap him away from me for letting it get this far, but mainly I just wanted
the whole night to end so I let him play with my tit while Tom pounded me.

I was a million miles away while this man fucked me. That's what it was -
a fuck, by some stranger. Somehow I had become an open hole for this guy
while my boyfriend looked on. To be fair, he fucked me good, hard and
fast. It was a true fuck. I was his true whore. I barely felt it. I
remember him cumming in my ass with a groan. I remember kicking off my
shoes to walk to the bathroom because I didn't want to convey a level of
sluttiness or submissiveness to this man. I wasn't his and somehow by
taking my shoes off, rather than doing my walk of shame in 5" heels allowed
me - in my mind anyway - to take some of my dignity back. I will attempt
to forget I was still wearing thigh highs when I made that walk.

I cleaned myself up, pissed that I hadn't taken any of my clothes with me,
came back naked into the room, got dressed, managed to get Ryan up and got
the fuck out of there.

We caught a cab back to the Mercedes and somehow Ryan managed to get us
home. He kept telling me it was hot. I'll be interested to see if he
still feels that way tomorrow.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2008

What the hell is going on here? Ryan and I both slept in and when we woke
up I wasn't exactly sure what to do or say. All he said was, "crazy night,
last night." I don't really understand everything that happened. I feel
terrible that it did and yet, I don't feel like I did anything wrong. It's
not like I wanted this to happen. I was just doing what he told me. I feel
dirty. I can still feel Tom's cock inside me, still feel his cum. I don't
want this to affect my relationship with Ryan. He seems to be avoiding the
subject altogether. How can I get through to him?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: September 2008

Nice day today. Ryan had work to do, but he sent me off with the credit
card and I got my nails done (hot pink - I think I'm holding on to summer),
a bunch of new g-strings and matching bras from Frederick's and a sexy pair
of silver Steve Madden sling-back heels. I came so close to getting a
beautiful pair of gold Jimmy Choo sandals, but I would have felt bad
spending that kind of money when it isn't my own. Plus, I don't like gold
- at least that's what I told myself anyway. I would prefer a diamond!
The Maddens are fucking hot anyway. I spent a long time at the MAC counter
trying some new product and looks, but I didn't get anything there either.

I got back and modeled some of the new buys for Ryan and then he fucked me
deep and hard on the kitchen floor. My new shoes looked so fucking good
when my knees were pressed against my tits. Gorgeous. And a delightful
cum from both of us. Ryan was an animal.

End Diary Entry

I find this part of my diary the hardest to read. I know what I was going
through at the time emotionally. I hadn't reconciled the rape yet. I was
just a raw nerve; trying my best to hold on to the man I loved through the
thing he loved best about me - my sex. I can feel it when I read this. I
was frayed.

What's worse, I can see the changes in Ryan. He was treating me
differently than he had before. I was blind.

Diary Entry: October 2008

After a good fucking from Ryan last night I was finally able to broach the
subject of Tom and everything that happened. We were lying in bed and I
brought it up: "Honey, can we talk for a little while about the night in
Boston?"

"Sure," he said. We were holding each other and I kissed him.

"Well, give me your thoughts."

"I don't really have any." He doesn't fucking have any? What is it about
guys and feelings?

I paused for a second, and then, "Well, I feel funny about it."

"OK, about what?" he asked.

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're mad at me, which is good, because I feel
like I was only doing what you asked," I said. "I didn't want it to
happen. There was a time in my life when that would have been fun for me,
but that night wasn't fun. I love you. I want it to be us, not us and
other people. But you told me a couple of times that night you thought it
was hot seeing me with another guy. Do you feel that way?"

"It was just a night, Kristy," he said. "Just one of those things." Then
he rolled over.

"Wait," I said, pulling him back over to face me. "I want you. Only you."

"OK," he said, slightly annoyed. "I understand. You don't have to make
such a big deal about it."

At that point I could have said any number of things, probably none of them
productive, so I dropped it. I didn't want Ryan to be upset before sleep.
I didn't want either of us to fall asleep with any bad emotions really, so
I slipped under the covers and lovingly took his cock in my mouth. I could
still taste our juices on it - so incredibly sensual. I gave him a long,
lingering blowjob, just using my mouth, taking my time to pleasure my man.
His divine cum flooded into me about ten minutes later. I was careful to
swallow all of it.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: October 2008

I have to admit, housewife suits me pretty well. Ryan and I had blissful
wakeup sex this morning, I got up, tucked my clit, wiggled into a blue
g-string, slipped into my blue 4" Bandolino pumps, threw on some hot pink
lipstick and had a breakfast of wheat toast and grapefruit waiting for Ryan
when he got out of the shower. I so love waiting on him naked or close to
naked (panties and heels leave more to the imagination), just so he knows
how much I care about him.

I'm falling in love with the idea of being the sexiest housewife I can be.
I don't want to be some hag in pajamas and slippers. I finally have the
confidence in my body, so I want to show it off. To be high gloss. Not
high maintenance, hopefully, but high gloss. A hot chick. I want him to
think about me all day. I want to turn his head.

Anyway, I got Ryan off to work, changed into my running pants and a sports
bra and went for a 4 mile run (two guys definitely checked me out -
flattering). Then I came back, showered quickly, dried myself thoroughly
and went for my spray tan in 5" heels, yoga pants (they make my ass look so
good) and a loose sweatshirt. I fucking love that I can pretty much wear
anything now.

After tanning, I stopped at the grocery store for some basics and when I
got back the cleaning people were still here, so I helped them a little bit
and saw them off. Then I prepared some fresh salads for dinner and started
getting ready for Ryan to come home. I wore a tight, short, low cut
leopard print dress and a tight black g-string under it to hide my tucked
clitty. I finished with 5" fuck me's - dark brown - and light makeup on my
newly tanned face. I made my eyes and lips pop with some glitter, poured
myself a glass of wine and waited for my man. He got home, we had a drink,
the salads, another glass of wine and then he fucked my deliciously tanned
ass twice before we both collapsed in a heap. He said I smelled like
honey. I'll take that. And maybe about ten thousand more days just like
it.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: October 2008

What a fucking blast. Ryan dressed me up in next to nothing - the
skankiest Leg Avenue spandex tube dress he could find in my closet (hot
pink) and 6" clear Lucite heels with pink ribbons, a tight, pink g-string,
way too much pink-based makeup and glitter galore - and took me shopping at
the Providence Place Mall to turn heads and basically serve as foreplay for
the rest of our day. I felt exactly as I looked - like a hooker - but it
definitely got the attention of a lot of people. My tits were on full
display since he didn't want me to wear a bra. Hello nipples. Still, I
enjoyed the attention and it totally turned him on and he ended up fucking
me at a rest stop (like a hooker) on the way home. So sexy.

While we were at the mall, he had me riding the escalators as he checked
out the reactions of different guys and watched them try to fight for
position to be a lower step so they could look up my dress. I wouldn't be
surprised if some of them got a good view between my legs. They must have
been a little confused, because I can tuck so well that my lines are
smooth, but I can't make my clit disappear like some magic show. It's
small, but it's there. But my ass is fucking tight and toned and
positively delicious looking now. Like what you see boys? And oh, by the
way, can you see my dirty, hungry pussy too?

If he wants me to be his slut, I will be that for him. I told him that,
pledged it to him really. He ended up fucking me three times today, so
clearly I turn him on - and that's exactly the way I want it.

End Diary Entry

I think this is the most telling of all my entries around this time because
it doesn't only speak to my relationship with Ryan, it also speaks to my
willingness to satisfy the person I love. I could not be better versed in
the struggles tgirls face for acceptance from society. I know far more
than I would like to about discrimination or simple cruelty. And yet here
I was, dressed like a whore in broad daylight because the person I loved
wanted me to be. Hopefully the tgirls reading this understand where I'm
coming from, because to do what I did was not an easy decision for me. Had
I been "made" as a tgirl, I would have set the stereotype back a hundred
years ... just another freak being inappropriate. That would have killed
me.

I love that last line. Sometimes my diaries don't convey the trepidations
I feel doing certain things. And I have countless entries that I have left
out of The Dogging Diaries that don't fit the narrative of the journey, but
instead detail a lot of the struggles I have faced along the way and my
thoughts on tgirls and society in general. At some point I would love to
release some of those, because I have fought for transgender rights
countless times in both organized and informal settings. I love my tgirls.
And as much as I love to flaunt what I have and turn heads; I don't ever
want to be a tgirl freak show. A freak show, maybe, but I don't want to
reflect badly on my gender. Anyway, back to the diary ...

Diary Entry: October 2008

Am I becoming a rich bitch? I suppose not. It's not my money. But still,
another day of servicing my man in the morning, then breakfast in lingerie,
working out, going to the salon, getting myself pretty, tending to the
house wearing next to nothing and getting dinner ready. Then we eat and we
fuck and we drink and we do a couple of lines and we fuck again and then we
fall asleep. My heart, body and pussy are yours, Ryan, to do as you
please.

End Diary Entry

On the surface these were good times. But, Ryan and I never really
resolved the whole night in Boston. It just sort of faded away. I didn't
understand it, and that bothered me. He wouldn't talk much about it and
that bothered me even more. And still, I was a rape victim being thrown
back into the sexual wild. I'm not saying that to arouse sympathy - I'm
saying it because it is true and really clouded me. I had major emotional
issues to deal with, but I never did anything about it. I just kept
serving breakfast in a bra and panties, waiting to be bent over again.

I'm sure I looked like I was OK. I'm sure it looked like I - and like we -
were in a great pattern and really enjoying ourselves. I was truly "living
the dream" - the good life, the clothes, cars and money - and I would have
done anything for him. Not because of those things, but because of him. I
loved Ryan. I don't want to give too much away, since it all gets
resolved, but I know my willingness to please Ryan was a major reason
things ended up the way they did. He deserves some blame too. I can only
go on the facts that I have.

Diary Entry: November 2008

Ryan and I got talking about more surgery today. Just sort of a mutual
thing that came up off the cuff. I may go in and have some more facial
work done, I'm not sure yet. Definitely some Botox and collagen. He told
me to set it up.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2008

Turns out they're going to do a touch of reshaping at my hair line to lower
my forehead a little bit more. We got on that topic and I never solved the
Botox or collagen thing. I can talk to them more about it tomorrow.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2008

I had the surgery, more cranioplasty, the other day. It wasn't anywhere
near as invasive as the first time and I should be healed within a week to
ten days. Couldn't do any Botox because of the surgery. They did another
"hint of lipo" as the doctor calls it too. Whatever, suck that fat. I'll
be your Barbie. I'm doing well. Healing is coming along. Botox and lips
in two weeks.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2008

Happy Thanksgiving! Had a really nice meal with Ryan's Dad. He doesn't
know I'm a tgirl, as it turns out. It kind of bothers me that Ryan never
told him. Ryan hit me with that about ten minutes before his father walked
in. I've spoken with the guy on the phone and in person about fifteen
times, you'd think maybe a little information would be nice. I'm a little
offended he hasn't told him, but I wonder if that's just me being
sensitive. Still, if I'm going to keep the secret, I really need to know
that there is one to be kept.

Saw Mom and Dad and [my sister] too. Everyone seems like they're doing
well. Ryan was the perfect gentlemen and even Mom had to admit I'm looking
good. She still hates my tits (not her exact words) and I left out the
part about surgery a couple of weeks ago. I think Mom noticed anyway.
These things take time to fully heal. But overall it was a nice visit. I
love seeing them now that I can be who I am. I know they're happy that I'm
with Ryan and things are so stable in my life. Mom thinks my heels are too
high. She should see how high I can get them when I'm on my back getting
pounded by cock. Or not.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: November 2008

Ryan brought up the pictures for the website again tonight. He thinks it
might be fun to do the whole photo shoot thing. It's not my first choice.
I don't need to be naked on some website. My ego doesn't need that. He
seems to want it though. Maybe his does?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

So we snapped the pictures today. It was kind of the first step to me
being naked on the web. Is that a good thing? Do I really want my tits
and ass all over the internet? Whatever. Apparently he does. Ryan shot
me in the living room. Lots of jewel tones and rich fabrics for a backdrop
and plenty of colors in the shots. I think some of them came out great. I
was painted up like a stripper and have clear heels on and little else.
There's some shots where I'm topless and enough pictures of my bottom to
see that I've got good curves and a tight waist. I've seen some of the
girls they feature, so I should be a no-brainer.

End Diary Entry

Haha. Be arrogant much? I do love my confidence though. I was looking
good and proud of it. And here was my chance to be, so I thought, just
like the girls in Hustler all those years ago.

Diary Entry: December 2008

We heard back from [shemale porn site] and they want me for the website. I
have to admit, it's pretty flattering to hear that. I guess I'm going to
be a web model! Little old me, dropping my panties on the net. I am such
a whore! They're hooking us up with a photographer out of [Massachusetts
town], so that's not too bad of a ride.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

We got the email from Carter [the photographer] about the pictures. I want
Ryan to be there with me, so it sounds like we may shoot this Saturday.
I'm getting my hair and nails done on Friday.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

I believe I dipped a clear heel into the porn business today. I did the
shots and from what I can tell things came out pretty good. Carter
certainly seemed like he knew what he was doing with me; making me feel
pretty and giving me good direction. Ryan was a dream and very supportive.

Carter took four sets of pictures; one set of me fully clothed, one
topless, one naked and one with toys. I was in a plunging, midnight-blue
tube dress with a keyhole and clear heels - against a scarlet red backdrop
- for most of the pictures. We did some of the topless ones with the dress
pulled down and some others in a pair of dark blue boy shorts. Then I
dropped my panties and showed my pussy and clit to the world. Did I really
do that? I'm out of my mind. We used a couple of really nice glass dildos
for the toy shoot that Carter had bought. Given their nature, they made a
lovely parting gift too.

It was actually a blast to be all dolled up like that and fawned over.
Carter isn't a hair and makeup guy, but he did a great job giving me some
direction on what he wanted and I'm not sure my eyes have ever popped more
or been smokier. Who doesn't like playing dress up?

We got back and Ryan took me straight upstairs and gave his model
girlfriend a delicious fucking. He told me I was incredibly sexy. I sure
felt that way.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

Holy conflicted. We received an email from the porn site yesterday telling
us that the pictures will be up in less than a week and that they're
"spotlighting" it as new, featured content on their home page. I'm
actually pretty flattered to think that a whole bunch of people are going
to be looking at them. Ryan seemed to get a kick out of the fact that a
whole bunch of guys are going to be jerking off to them. I have to admit,
that's actually pretty cool. I've never considered myself a fantasy
before.

The next bit of news is the problem. The site offered me a chance to do a
scene. A sex scene. A full on porno flick scene, for the cameras with the
lighting and everything ... and actors, as in two guys. Ryan wants me to
do it, which is a total mind fuck for me because I don't understand why a
guy would want his girl to get fucked by another guy if he truly loved her.
He says he does love me, but that's a weird way to show it. We went at it
pretty good when he said I should do it. At first it didn't really
register but then it made me fucking pissed. He claims, and I quote, "I
like the fact that my girlfriend is sexy. I enjoy the thought of other
people wanting what I have."

Fine. I can understand that to a point, but he doesn't seem to care that
in this case, other people ARE going to "have" what he has.

I don't know what to do. It's fucked up. My life is so different now that
I don't even care about the money - and they're offering me over a grand to
do it. That's more than some porn stars make in "real" - is that the right
word? - porn movies. I should care about the cash - for the most part
everything I have is Ryan's, I'm just using it. But it feels like mine.
If I do the scene, I should put the money away for safe keeping.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

Merry Christmas, Diary. I'm thinking about getting fucked on camera. Is
that good? I have no idea, but it appears the wheels are in motion for me
to film a two-on-one scene with a couple of hand-picked dudes. Could I be
more of a holiday slut if I tried?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

An absolutely glorious fucking from Ryan last night. I'm completely spent
and over the moon. I feel so sexy, so desired. I love him.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: December 2008

Well it's settled. We're shooting the scene next week at a house in Rhode
Island. I'm not exactly sure why that is. Dan from the company has been
in touch and gave me the lowdown, but I never asked him why Rhode Island.
In the meantime, there are tests that need to be done (AIDS, etc) and a
whole bunch of release forms I need to sign.

Dan emailed me a huge packet of information about what I should expect and
how I should prepare. It's actually pretty funny because they're very
clinical and professional in the packet about what I should do and eat over
the next couple of days. It should really just say "these are the things
you should do to keep your hooch clean," and list them but instead there's
a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about specific foods and how "an enema should be
used each of the two days prior to shooting to ensure a cleansed anus" and
how "model (that's me!) should prepare herself/himself for anal sex scenes
by utilizing a one-inch-diameter marital aid used in conjunction with a
water-based, unscented, colorless (milky white is OK) lubricant exactly
four hours prior to the commencement of the production." But here's my
favorite ... "model should use the marital aid to assist in preparing the
anal ring and related chamber for insertion during production; however
model should refrain from any deep plunging."

Awesome. Boy, the sluts they must work with on some of these things. It's
like, girls - don't savagely fuck yourself a couple of hours before we do.
And people wonder why the warnings on hair dryers actually state not to use
them while in the bathtub. Us girls are dummies.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2009

Happy New Year!

So I talked to Ryan last night about the scene this weekend and he
continues to tell me he's all for it. He said he's OK with me doing it
because in the end I'm coming home to him. I asked him if he loved me and
he held me close and said he did. He thinks this will be fun and hot and
exciting so I should just enjoy it.

I got emails from Dan with a little bit of information on the guys that are
going to be fucking me. One's not bad looking, the other is less so but
they both have plenty where it counts.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2009

Ryan calls me his porn star. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I did
the scene today and managed to enjoy myself the best I could. It's a lot
different from the way I would normally choose to get banged, because they
want the girl to use her clit in the scene and I would never use mine
during sex. It wasn't that big a deal, I suppose. They basically just
wanted me to rub it and get myself off so it sprays. I can't get hard
anymore because of the hormones so it wasn't easy but I got it done. I
thought I would have some help because I'd cum during sex but they cut so
much to change positions and adjust people and lights that I only had one
small cum during the shoot.

Where to begin? Well, as directed I used my one-inch-diameter marital aid
four hours before the shoot, which Ryan thought was a riot because he
wanted to watch me do my homework and commented that his type of homework
was never as fun.

I was told to arrive freshly showered but without makeup. We got to the
shoot on schedule about two-and-a-half hours before show time. I totally
had delusions of grandeur, because naturally I (Ms Big Time) just assumed
there would be dozens of people milling around (and a catering spread), so
it was a bit of a self esteem hit to get there and realize it was four
people at some random house and that was it. I'm nothing if not adaptable
though, so once I got it through my bimbo brain that I am not Nicole Kidman
and instead am a shemale slut, everything proceeded as planned.

I met Jim, the director, and eventually Mark and Joe, the other "actors,"
aka the guys that were about to fuck me. Carter, my buddy from the photo
shoot was also there for cameras. And that was it. All dudes and me, the
one chick. Two cameras, one on a tripod with Jim and a handheld that
Carter was responsible for.

Jim was talented with makeup and helped paint me up. I looked like a whore
and everyone seemed please by this. Ryan was amused. Still, I reveled in
it, letting someone else do my hair and makeup and tell me I'm beautiful.
It's fun to be "the talent."

That took a while and then we had a group meeting to talk about the scene
and how it was going to go. There wasn't any hokey setup for it, no pizza
delivery boy type of thing; it was just a straight ahead X-rated scene. Me
on the bed with the guys, they strip, I suck them for a while, they take
off my clothes and play with me for a while, one guy eats my ass out while
the other plays with my tits, one guy fucks me while I blow the other guy.
They take turns a little. I cum, they cum, we all go home. Sadly, I was
to be the fluffer if one of them had a problem getting it up, another
reminder I'm not exactly Jenna Jameson.

I didn't want to smell like smoke, but I was freaking out about 20 minutes
before we shot, so I slipped outside in my bathrobe and heels to have a
cigarette. Then I came back in and washed my hands and brushed my teeth.
I was so nervous about Ryan being there and watching this happen. Me
personally, I probably would have done something like this if I was single.
I love sex and now that I'm comfortable in my own skin I would have posed
for someone, somewhere, sometime. Maybe not porno but certainly
provocative still photos. But Ryan was my concern. We decided to do this
together, but he was the driver and he'd OK'd it all and now there's his
girlfriend taking two huge cocks on camera. The whole thing boggles my
mind.

Jim called time and I met Mark and Joe in the bedroom, glad that when I
asked them they told me they couldn't smell any smoke. I was sitting on
the bed and looked at Ryan. He was off in the corner behind Carter and
Jim, waiting for his girl to get double teamed. I thought about backing
out but he seemed involved in the whole thing, sizing up the room and
basically being Jim's assistant, so what the hell?

The scene went off as we planned. We started with all three of us sitting
on the bed with me in the middle. Then Jim wanted me to put one hand on
each crotch through their pants. Then they got up and dropped their
drawers and we did a "position change" with me on my knees in front of
them. I have to admit, seeing two eight-inch cocks in front of my face and
knowing I had my boyfriend's permission to do dirty things to them was
pretty thrilling. I haven't seen a lot of random dick lately.

I worked both cocks at once, one with my mouth and one with a free hand.
Then I stood up and both guys undressed, kissed me and started taking off
my clothes. We did another position change and Jim had me lying on the bed
as the two guys played with my tits and touched my clit. Mark (I think)
lifted my legs up (I kept my silver heels on) and tongued my pussy for a
little while as I kissed Joe and let him play with and suckle my tits.
Then we cut again and I had to lay there with my legs in the air as Jim
applied clear lube to my hole. Looking over at your boyfriend while
another man applies lube to your cunt with a large Q- tip isn't awkward at
all. Then he made me use a dildo for a couple of strokes to loosen up
before resetting the shot.

Once we were reset and Jim was back behind the camera we resumed with me
and the two guys on the bed. Mark lifted my legs and curled them around
his waist. Then he pressed his cock into my rosebud and slipped into me
while I took Joe's cock in my mouth. I could see Carter moving in for some
close-ups out of the corner of my eye and all I kept wondering was how
close to my cunt did the zoom get.

For a while Mark played with my clit while he fucked me and then Jim called
cut and for the next segment Jim wanted me to take Mark's hand off of my
clit and put my own hands on it. The worst part for me was right then,
because as we were stopped and listening to Jim, Ryan came over to tell me
I was doing great, and of course while he's saying this, Mark's still
inside me because we're taking direction from Jim and trying to remain in
the same place. Fucking holy-holy-holy awkward talking to your boyfriend
with another guy's dick in your ass.

We resumed and I did what Jim asked. Then we did another position switch
and Joe fucked me doggie while I sucked Mark and played with my clit.

It was time for money shots and Jim wanted my cum on my tummy, so we
flipped again and I told the guys to hold out the best they could because
it was going to take me a little bit to cum and if at all possible could we
not cut because I needed the pussy action to help me. Everyone agreed and
we were able to finally get the shot thanks to Mark pounding away on my
pussy and helping me along. More nerves then, since another guy had just
gotten me off in front of my boyfriend. Once I was done, all that was left
was to get the guys to pop (major porn industry insider term!) so I just
let my slutty pussy do the work and let those guys bang away on her until
Joe pulled out and popped on my ass while Mark's cum splashed into my face.

Jim called "cut" and that was it. I had learned earlier that sometimes
they need to do multiple takes of the cum shot, but that wasn't needed with
my scene. I cleaned myself up, changed, got my money, said goodbye to
everyone and then drove home with Ryan. He kept telling me it was hot and
evidently he really believed it because we weren't home five minutes before
he fucked me good and deep on our family room couch. All I could think of
were the two cocks that had been there less than two hours before. I
suppose those are the smaller details that come with dating a girl who
makes porno movies. Her heart may belong to you, but her cunt really
belongs to the masses. I'm out of my mind.

End Diary Entry

I could not be more disappointed in the above entry. How do you write a
whole page about a porno shoot and not mention the music once? The answer
- because there isn't any. That obviously gets added later, but still, no
mention? Boo, me. Baw- chicka-baw-baw.

Diary Entry: January 2009

I need-need-need to have a heart to heart with Ryan and find out what is
driving this new behavior. I want to be his girl forever and he seems to
be getting off on me being everyone else's girl. This needs to get
resolved. I've been the good girl and gone along with the "extra-marital"
sex he wants me to have because things were strained between us and this
seemed like what he wanted but I'm losing my mind over here. I need
answers.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2009

I suppose that settles it. He's a different type of guy than I originally
thought, but he's totally in love with me, has been faithful to me and just
loves that he "got his Kristy back." Now he wants to focus on just being
together and having fun. We had a long conversation and he seemed to open
up to me more on the topic than he had in the past. He told me he gets off
on sex, that he loves "dirty girls" as he put it - and then very kindly
told me I was more than that - and that he's always wanted to be with
someone who is open sexually and not afraid to be objectified. He feels
like he found that in me because I've alluded to my past a couple of times
being a little crazy.

We both agreed that we had a past before we met each other and there's
nothing wrong with that. He thinks I should play my sexuality up even
more, that his feelings are secure with eroticism centered on me and that I
should just give in to his whims and go with it. As he said, almost like a
sex slave but more on equal footing. Thinking about it, I'm not 100% sure
what that means but I understand the concept. I shouldn't push back on him
if he wants me to do something. I'm OK with all of it, I suppose. I told
him I didn't want to just be a good-time girl and he totally understands my
feelings and doesn't want me to think of myself that way. We're in a
relationship and he loves me and he is against me having sex without him
knowing about it, but if it "compliments" (his word) our sex life then he
feels it is OK.

Personally, I just wanted to know that he feels the same way about me as I
do about him. He thinks of me as his and that's good enough for me. I'll
be anything he wants me to be if he will love me forever.

End Diary Entry

One item of note as I reread this entry: I am a dirty girl. And I'm proud
of it. Give me your fucking cock.

Diary Entry: January 2009

Such a fun day! I feel like a slutty princess. Ryan took me out and we
got my navel pierced. It fucking hurt like hell but it's sexy as fuck and
the pain will go away. That was the last stop on a whirlwind day of
shopping that included some awesome strappy Louboutins, not one but two
pair of Jimmy Choos and a couple of mini-dresses from Cache and Tahari. I
also got a fun pair of thigh high leggings so I can still be sexy if it's
really cold out. The whole time we were shopping Ryan had me in a
way-too-tight spandex dress and fishnet stockings with a garter belt. It
was cold out, so I had my coat on part of the time but he got off on having
me take it off and walking around. The dress was so tight on my thighs
that you could easily see the buttons where my garters attached and when it
rode up even a spec you could clearly see the garters under the hem of the
dress. So fucking hot and I know one of the sales guys at the phone store
would have bent me over if he could have. I suppose under the new
arrangement he could have if Ryan wanted him too. Am I back to being a cum
dump? Was I ever not one?

I gave Ryan a beautiful blowjob on the drive from the mall to the piercing
place and I definitely smelled like cum when we got there. I wouldn't have
it any other slutty way. Cest les vie.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2009

So this is how it's going to be? Wouldn't you know Ryan took me out in
Boston and by sarcastic miracle we ran into Tom from the wine bar with the
coke stash and wouldn't you know we went back there and did a bunch of
lines and wouldn't you know that Ryan let Tom fuck me again and we walked
out with more coke than I've seen in a long time. It's basically a small
mountain. Now I'm being traded for coke? Is that fucking irony? I used
to trade my ass for cocaine and now my loving boyfriend is trading it for
me. To say I'm unsure about all of this is an understatement and I need to
get the scoop from the boy wonder because it's one thing to do a little
blow - or even a lot of blow - from time to time but it's entirely another
to be a guy who goes from only using the stuff once in a while to being a
guy willing to trade his girl's hooch for it. Something's got to give and
all I'm getting from Ryan is that he had fun and it was a fun night. I
still have some other guy's cum dripping out of me and it was a fun night
FOR HIM?

I don't like this. I don't want to be bartered or anything like that. I
just want to be with my boyfriend. The whole thing is fucked because I
have these guilty feelings about getting fucked by someone else but my
boyfriend encourages it. That makes the whole thing confusing to me. How
am I supposed to feel? Guilty? Fine about it? Fuck. And since it's
obvious to me the meeting with Tom wasn't by chance, it means he kept in
touch with him. Why didn't he clue me in?

Maybe I should face the facts that I'm a slut and I like all of this, but I
can't seem to do that. I can't seem to let go of my dream of being a
one-man woman.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: January 2009

What the heck am I going to do? I have this guy that I love with all of my
heart and he's gone completely off the rails with this kinky sex stuff. I
mean, when I was hooking, Jack wanted me dressed slutty and acting like a
whore and all that, but he was a pimp for fuck's sake. This is my
boyfriend and he's taking it to a whole different level. It feels like
every conversation we have is about sex and everything he wants me to do is
for his thrill and disregards my feelings completely. I want to make him
happy, I really do but I just don't feel like I'm getting the straight
skinny as to why he's doing all of this. Now when I ask him he tells me I
should love him, let him lead me and enjoy myself. Am I over-thinking
this?

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: February 2009

I can hardly recognize the person I fell in love with. I never signed up
for this. I'll do it because I care about him but this wasn't how I would
have drawn it up when we met. I was thinking about wedding dresses but now
I'm not sure I see a way that happens. I'm not going to cry and get all
woe-is-me over this. I've had too much heartache as a result of it to
begin with.

Let me get this all down on paper because I need to know that I'm not going
crazy.

It was supposed to be a nice dinner out. I was looking forward to it, to
spending some time together in a romantic setting. I had picked out a
classy beige dress, nude stockings and fun brown boots with a 3" heel.
Earthy, comfy and a little flirty. Ryan would have none of it.

"You can't wear that," he said, gesturing to my clothing laid out on our
bed.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer me. Instead he rummaged through my closet; pulling out
dresses and putting them back in. I'm not an idiot, so I knew where this
was going.

"Wear this," was all he said once he found something suitable.

It was a silver lame halter mini-dress with cutouts up the sides. We had
bought it a couple of weeks ago during a shopping extravaganza. To say it
was a hooker dress doesn't do it justice. There were so many cutouts that
my body would barely be covered at all. I'd be all tits up top and the
bottom was more like a wide belt in length. It would barely cover my ass
and clit when I was standing. If I sat, forget it. I remember when we
bought it I figured I'd wear it for Ryan when he came home, not someplace
out for dinner. I hung my head.

"And these," he said, gesturing to my 6" platform Lucite heels. "Plenty of
makeup too."

So this was how it was going to be.

I feigned a smile and went back into the bathroom to change my makeup. I
had gone with understated earth tones thinking about the date and the beige
dress. Now I needed darks and metallics and lots of smoke.

Ryan came into the bathroom as my rebuilding process was going on. I
couldn't help myself.

"I thought we were going for a casual dinner," I said,
passive-aggressively.

"Change of plans," was all he said. Then he went downstairs.

I finished my makeup and stood there looking at the dress. What the fuck?
And did he want thigh highs too? Should I wear a bra and panties? Fuck.
I finally figured that he's pretty thorough and therefore knew what he
wanted, so I shimmied into a silver g-string to help hide my clit. I
skipped the bra and hose. When I was done putting my heels on, I checked
myself in the mirror. I looked as I had so often lately, like a whore. I
felt my eyes welling up and fought that feeling back. If this is what he
wants then this is what I'll give him. I finished my face with some
glitter and went down to meet Ryan.

When I got there he was halfway through a beer and had chopped out a bunch
of lines on a CD case. He heard the click-clack of me coming, looked up
and smiled.

"I figured we'd get the night going with a bang."

I smiled. He looked me up and down and said, "Perfect." Then he handed me
the straw. I did a couple of lines.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked when I finished.

"No rush," he replied. "It's Friday."

I got up and poured myself a chardonnay. We were going to be here for a
while.

And we were. One glass turned to two and then to three. He had several
beers. We both had a bunch of coke. We weren't completely fucked up, but
we were on our way. I didn't want the night to get completely away from
us, so I asked him about dinner.

"I was thinking we'd do something different."

"What's that?" I asked him.

"Go find some fun."

I looked at him. What the fuck was this? "Could you be a little more
descriptive?" I finally asked him.

"Nah. It's a surprise," he said. Then he started gathering up the coke.
"Get your purse."

Next thing I knew we were on the highway heading south and driving in
silence. Finally he said, "So tell me about your life before me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your love life. Your sex life."

"It doesn't matter," I said, brushing it off.

"I know, but I'm curious," he said. "You've mentioned a couple of times
that you've done some things. That you were a party girl. What does that
mean?"

"It was a while ago. It doesn't matter."

"Come on," he pushed. "Every couple has this conversation. We both did
things before we met. I wanna know about you. You were a party girl. You
said so yourself."

"When did I say that?" I asked, stalling for time. What was going on here?

"You told me that a couple of times," he said. "That you had seen some
things. When we talked about the pictures a while ago you told me that you
were a very sexual person."

"So?"

"So, that turns me on."

"Why can't I just be sexual with you?" I asked - or pleaded.

"Because we both know that we find it incredibly hot when you're sexual
with other people too."

"No," I was getting pissed now. "You find it hot. I do it because you
want me to, not because I want to."

"You don't like it?"

"No."

"You don't like getting fucked by other guys." It was a statement.

"No. Ryan, I like getting fucked by you."

We were going almost eighty miles an hour and making our way someplace
further and further away from our house.

"Can you slow down?" I shot at him. I saw him glance at the speedometer
and then felt the car slow as his foot lifted off the gas pedal.

"So tell me," he said.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why? Why does it matter?"

"Because it's part of your life!" Ryan said, clearly growing annoyed. But
at what? What was he so aggravated about? What was the fucking problem
here? I think the stress of having my past hanging over me, coupled with
Ryan's newfound penchant for watching me with other guys finally boiled
over. My back got up once he raised his voice to me. Fuck him.

"Fine," I said. What do you want to know?"

That hung there for a second and then Ryan put his blinker on and got off
at the next exit. We drove a short way in silence before he pulled into a
hotel parking lot. It was 9:30PM and there were still people milling
around out front waiting for cabs or a shuttle or whatever. Ryan put the
car in park and killed the engine in a darker parking space on the side of
the hotel. Then he reached in the back, pulled out two beers, opened them
and gave one to me. I took a sip, put it down and pulled the coke out of
my purse. I steadied a CD case on my knees and dumped some powder out. We
drew lines and each did a few.

"I'm cold," I said. Ryan told me to shield the coke, started the car again
and angled the heat to my feet where I like it. He kept all the lights
off.

"So, what's the craziest thing you've ever done?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not trying to be difficult. That's a hard
question to answer."

"I'm guessing you've been with multiple guys before because you looked
pretty comfortable at the shoot."

"I have," I answered.

"How many times?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know!" He wasn't mad. He was more startled I think. "How can
you not know?"

"I don't know - a few times I guess."

"Have you been with three guys?"

Was I going to make him drag this out of me? No, but I wasn't just going
to lead into my past matter-of-factly either.

"I have. A couple of times."

"Jesus!"

"Hey - you're the one that wanted to know," I said. Then I did another
line.

"Have you been with a girl?"

"A long time ago. Like years and years ago. What about you - have you
been with two girls?"

"Once," he answered.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. I mean, what guy wouldn't like it?" he said. "Have you ever had a
one night stand?"

I laughed. "I thought I was your one night stand when it happened."

He laughed too.

"Yes, I have had a one night stand," I said, answering his question. What
is it with relationships and these discussions? Like, who really gives a
fuck? He did evidently, so I had to play this stupid game of "what have
you done sexually" ping-pong.

"So you've been with multiple guys - multiple times. How does that
happen?" he asked. "Do you like, meet them at a club or something? Like a
swinger's club?"

"Something like that." I had another sip of beer.

"Let me ask you something," he said. I could tell this was important.
"The night of the um, the night of the assault ..."

"Yeah -"

"... and don't, please don't get mad at me for asking this, but are you
sure you never did anything to make that guy mad? Like flirt with him and
then turn him down or something?"

"No," I answered, curtly. "Don't fucking blame me for anything that
night."

We sat in silence for another couple of minutes.

"So, you ever done like bondage and stuff?"

"A couple of times," I answered.

"You've had a guy tie you up?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?" he asked.

"It was OK. It would have been better if it was with the right person."

"So like, with me?" he said.

"You can do whatever you want with me," I flirted.

And then it came flying out of his mouth.

"You ever have a guy offer you money for sex?"

I hesitated, probably the worst thing I could have done if I was going to
lie. All I needed to do was either say "no" or say "yes" and then say "no"
to the inevitable "did you take it?" follow up question ... instead I
paused, took a swig of beer, looked Ryan right in the eye and said "yes -
and I took it too."

Fucking boom! You want to know about me? That's me.

He was stunned. "Holy shit."

A long pause.

"You took money for sex?"

"Yes," I answered. I knew what was coming and I could have cut it off but
I let it play out.

"How many times?"

Here we go. Fuck it.

"Pretty much a few times a week for over a year."

He was floored. Yeah well, fuck you - you wanted to know.

"Holy shit," he repeated. Then, like the morning dawn ... "so you were
like a full-fledged prostitute?"

"Yes," I said. Not yup or ya or yeah. Yes.

"Like with a pimp?"

"Like with a pimp," I answered.

He took a long pull of his beer and I tried to determine the collateral
damage.

"So how many guys do you think you've had sex with?"

I rolled my eyes. "That honestly doesn't matter."

"But just guess."

Are you fucking kidding me? "Like, a couple of hundred."

"You've fucked a couple hundred guys?" Evidently I was in Clerks now.

"They've fucked me," was all I said.

We sat there in silence for a little while longer. I glanced at the clock.
10:12 PM. I was just about to ask if we could get going when I heard him
whisper, "I want to watch you."

"What?" I asked.

"I want to watch you," he repeated, louder this time.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Watch me do what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"You know what I mean," he said. I could tell he had gotten his nerve
back. "I want to watch you enjoy yourself."

So there it was again. Only this time I felt - rightly so - like we were
speeding for the abyss.

"But Ryan, I enjoy myself with you."

"No you don't, not like you do when you can really go at it."

No sale. Fuck you. I had been the victim of the mind games with Jack and
countless other guys. I wasn't falling for the "it's not me, it's you bull
shit." All I wanted was to have dinner with the person I loved.

"That's not true," I said flatly.

"It is true," he said. "Your life. Before me. It clearly wasn't all dates
and flowers. And you did it for a while."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I countered.

"It means you liked it."

"No, it means I did it. And I did it for a lot of reasons. The money -"

"You didn't just do it for the money," he snapped back. "So show me."

"Ryan," I put my hand on his leg. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's you
and me now."

"I want to see it."

"Why?" We were going around in circles.

"Because I do."

"That's not a reason," I challenged.

"Because I need to, OK?" he spat. "I need it. All my life I've wondered
about the seamier side of life. Wondering about it. Fantasizing about it.
Ever since I was in junior high school I've wanted the wilder girls.
Thought about being with them. Having one of my own. And I never did. I
was the bookworm with school or working all the time to build my companies.
And then it was tgirls, with all the right attitudes but never the looks.
And now I have you and you're both and I want that, Kristy. Can't you see
how bad I want it? I've been dangling all of it right in front of you for
weeks now and you never acted on it. And now I find out you used to be a
hooker and I'm not supposed to want to see what that's like? What it's
like to be with that sort of person? For twenty years that's all I've
wanted."

He was rambling now and I didn't want to stop him but I had to ask
... "Have you ever been with a hooker?"

"No," he said. "I couldn't. And you know why? Because I knew she would
never be mine. That it would be fake because I was just a job for her.
Just a guy."

Ryan was emotional and raw. He leaned over and kissed me and I swooned
under his weight and passion. I needed him urgently and we were able to
move the passenger seat forward for more room as we jumped into the back of
the car. I climbed on top of him as our lips locked and we fumbled with
his belt and zipper, sliding his pants down to his ankles. I hiked up my
skirt and he slid my panties to the side, pressing his rock solid cock
against my hungry pussy. We both reached down and used our spit to lube my
sex. Then I took his cock head into my tight hole and pressed my body down
on him, taking his shaft to the hilt.

This was an urgent fuck; mouths pressed tightly together, overcome by
sexual desire and blazing heat. My cunt was on fire as we pounded our
bodies in unison, wringing every ounce of passion from one another.

I dug my heels into the floor mat for support and ground my hungry cunt
into him, contracting my muscles and begging for his seed. I had to have
it. Needed it. Longed for it. Ryan put his hands on my hips, lifting my
weight and bringing it back down on top of him, plying my slutty flower
with his cock as his balls slapped against me. I stuck my tongue into his
ear, the heat from my breath sending shivers through his body. Then I bit
his earlobe and he cried out. Seconds later he kissed me deep and pulled
away, looking me deep into the eyes. I knew it was time and he delivered
moments after; erupting in ecstasy as the hot, thick streams of his cum
flooded into my pussy.

I kept moving my hips, careful to milk every drop of his heavenly cream
into my bottom. I wanted it all and he was good enough to give it to me.
I collapsed into him when it was over, breathless.

I climbed off of Ryan and we composed ourselves and got back into the front
seat. Then we chopped out some more lines and did them. Ryan put the car
in drive and we were off.

"That was fucking hot," I managed, feeling like we had reconnected and glad
that my secret was out.

He smiled. "Yes it was."

We drove back to the highway and then south again for another fifteen
minutes. We were at least an hour from home.

"Where the hell are we going?" I asked.

Ryan smiled and drove on in silence. A few minutes later he put the
blinker on and pulled into a rest area. We had fucked at one of these
before and I smiled outside and in. He pulled the car into a parking
space. The lot was dark and there were four or five trucks settled in for
the night as well as a couple of cars that appeared to be deserted.

Ryan picked up the CD case and we did some more blow. Then we sat and had
a beer. I kept waiting for him to make another move on me and was about to
make one myself when he said, "I want to watch you hook."

Talk about being blindsided. "Ryan, no. I don't want to do that."

He took another sip of beer. "Do it, Kristy. Do it for me."

"Ryan."

"Do it," he said again.

"Please don't make me," I pleaded. "I don't want to."

"Get out of the car and shake your shit. Those trucks will wake up. I
want to see it."

"No. Please."

He took my face in his hands. "Do it for me."

"Ryan," I was sobbing now. "I can't."

He just stared into my eyes, smiling.

"I'm a tgirl," I said. "If they don't know and they find out, it will get
violent."

"I'll be right here. Just get out and shake your moneymaker and make them
want you. Do that for me."

I couldn't believe what he was asking me. After everything I had been
through - we had been through - for him to ask that of me just blew my
mind.

He held out the CD case and I put the straw back to my nose.

"That's it," he soothed.

I did the lines and handed him the straw. Then I got out of the car. It
was freezing, a typical winter New England night. My silver lame dress
barely covered me. I did as Ryan asked; walking seductively, with my
shoulders back and tits out, my hips swaying back and forth, as I moved
past the parked trucks. All I could hear was the sound of my 6" stilettos
clicking on the hard pavement like a rifle shot. I walked by all the cars
and trucks like a bitch in heat. Then I turned and strutted back, thankful
no one had seen me or hadn't bothered to care. I was shivering when I got
back into the passenger seat.

"Can we go home now?" I asked.

Ryan's mind seemed far away.

"Ryan?"

As I said the words a truck facing us flashed its lights. Ryan looked at
me and then said he had a better idea. He got out of our car and walked
over to the truck. I sat there in silence, knowing what was potentially
going to happen, trying to summon the courage and the mindset that had got
me through so many of the nights at the hotel. It sickened me that my
boyfriend would put me in that position. I'm a whore evidently - and
that's all I'll ever be. I better get used to it.

Through the moonlight I could see Ryan coming back over to the car - and he
had a friend with him. Fuck.

Ryan opened the door on my side of the car and the interior light came on.
I looked up at Ryan and could see the faraway look in his eyes. It wasn't
crazy. It was driven. Determined.

"Kristy, this is Jack. Jack, Kristy," Ryan said. Jack - fucking figures.

I said hello and did my best to smile.

"That's a good looking shemale," said Jack. So Ryan had told him and he
had still come over. This was going to happen. I looked at Jack. He
wasn't a bad looking guy, kind of plain, but thankfully not the truck
driver stereotype. He looked like a 40- year old father is what he looked
like. I gazed up at Ryan, begging him with my eyes to take me home, to
think about us one more time. He smiled and gestured to me to get on with
it. I fished around to try and turn the interior light off, but when Ryan
figured out what I was doing he told me not to. Evidently my boyfriend
wanted more than just a show for one. Here we go, was all I could think
of.

I helped Jack unzip his trousers and lower them to his knees. His
semi-erect cock was inches from my face. I opened my mouth and took him
inside, giving Ryan what he evidently wanted when I chose to gaze up at him
with this strangers cock in my mouth. Jack hardened quickly in my mouth
and used my saliva to make him slick, working his cockhead with my left
hand and gently caressing his balls with my right.

It wasn't long into my blowjob that I heard other voices and figured either
I was going to jail for lewd and lascivious or a line was forming. It was
the latter. Next thing I knew I could hear their comments ...

"What a fucking slut."

"She looks so good with a cock in her mouth."

Then I heard Ryan say, "She was born to suck cock - and she'll do whatever
I tell her."

The couple of guys he was with laughed with him and then one said, "Well
tell the slut to spread her legs."

"Come on out, baby" Ryan ordered. I took my mouth off of Jack's dick and
slid by him, outside into the night. There were three guys waiting, one of
whom was easy on the eyes and two others who sucked. They were looking me
up and down. I saw one guy's gaze lingering on my heels. If you're going
to do this, I thought, just get a cock inside you and let your sexuality
take it from there.

"Let me see that ass girl," one of them requested. I turned and put my
right leg up on the door frame of the car and hiked up my dress.

"Nice fucking thong," said someone.

"I'm going to fuck that ass," said another.

I lowered my panties and left them at my knees. Then I bent at the waist
and resumed sucking Jack's dick, now with him in the passenger seat and me
with my ass outside the car. At least there was some heat inside where my
head was. My ass was truly out there in the breeze. There was some delay
and then I heard and felt the slamming of the trunk and then finally I felt
my cunt being lubed as fingers explored my bottom.

I have no idea who was first in or last in. I know that Jack coated my
face with his cum a couple of minutes after the first dick pushed into me.
Then it just became a series of commands. There were no other blowjobs,
just a line of guys fucking my pussy and issuing stern commands as I tried
to keep myself steady.

"Work that fucking ass into me, you whore," said my first dick. I used the
center console for leverage and rammed my body into his, impaling myself
with his cock in the process.

"Bend those knees you bitch," said the second one a few minutes later. I
bent ever so slightly to give my random fuck buddy better access to my open
cunt.

My body warmed to the challenge. You want a fucking dirty whore? I'll
show you a dirty whore. My moans began first, then my hip action became
subconscious, then the words came from deep within - "Yeah, you FUCK, oh,
you FUCK that pussy, you fucking fuck me! Fuck me you fucking prick. Fuck
that cunt. Fuck me hard. I'm a dirty whore. Fuck me. Give me that
fucking cock. I'm a dirty cunt, oh, I'm a fucking slut. Fuck me, fuck me,
fuck!!!!"

I was gone. The orgasm crashed through me as I felt the milk began to flow
from my clit. I threw my head back and licked my lips. I saw Ryan's face
through my sex soaked eyes and he smiled at me. I doubled my efforts on
the cock in my ass, focusing all of my sexual energy on it. Coaxing the
cum out of it.

I took it all; the slaps on my ass, the random hands roaming over my body,
the pinches to my nipples; the bitches, whores, sluts, skanks and cunts. I
took them all proudly. Yes I am. And I took all the cum too, as dick
after dick fucked into me and exploded inside my honeypot. My cunt was
stretched and dripping with cooze when I finished the row. I'm not
completely sure how many had me. I just kept my head down and my ass up
until they were done using me like the whore that I am. Things will never
be the same.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2009

When am I ever going to learn? I'm a slut. A slut. A whore. It is all
that I ever will be. I have built myself - and let others build me -
inside and out to be a sexual being. I've wanted to be a sex bomb since I
looked at those magazines years ago. I learned the skills from Jack and I
got the body from Ryan. The desire came from within. This is what I
wanted and now that I've got it I've rebelled against that, looking for
more. I'm so focused on being a sexy wife or girlfriend when all anyone
really wants from me is to be sexy and to give up my body easily. I need
to get it through my bimbo head that's all I'm good for. Ryan isn't going
to marry me. He basically said so last night and besides, how dumb do I
have to be to think this guy would marry a girl who gives it up all around
town? I've had hundreds of cocks inside of me and gallons of cum in me and
on me. I'm destined to have hundreds more and gallons more. It's what I
wanted. Now I have it. So why so serious?

I'm a slut and that's all I'll ever be, so I better start acting the part
every day and just plunging down that road because if I'm dumb enough to
think some guy is going to want me as a wife I'm out of my fucking mind.
Nobody is going to want me like that. So fine. Fuck them. Rise up and be
what they want. Rise up and be what you've always wanted. Fucking party,
girl. Now. Fuck them all.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: March 2009

I am a coke whore. I fucking love the stuff and I'll do anything anyone
wants when they have it and I want it. Why? Why the fuck am I so into it?
I'm not an addict, it's cool, I feel alive, right? Skinny bitches. It's
what the skinny bitches do. Am I one of them now? It makes me feel so
fucking sexy. So dependent. So dirty. I fucking need it. Ryan took me
out "dogging" again (his term) last night. He got me fucked up on coke (I
let him) and dressed me like a whore (I let him) and drove me down to the
rest area and had me suck and fuck until everyone was satisfied. I let him
- and I let them all. You can have me. Just give me some coke and then
tell me I'm pretty and make me show you my cunt and then fuck it until you
cum. Don't worry about me. I'm here for your use. Can I have some more
coke please? How many cocks are left to take? Let me do my lines and feel
better about myself. Skinny sluts. Bet the scale moves another pound
tomorrow.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: April 2009

Just be pretty. That's all I have to do. Be pretty and open my legs. Be
their fantasy in lingerie and high heels. Show off my body. Give it to
them. If there's a cock, suck it and let them fuck me with me it. Worship
their cum and let it coat me. Let them paint my face with it. Submit to
them and let it spray all over me. Debase myself for their pleasure and
they'll give me anything I want. So much better if you give me that white
powder that takes me to decadence. The more I do the more I can take. The
dirtier I am.

In the last four days I've taken thirteen cocks in public including Ryan's.
I can't name or even see the other twelve guys. I was just an open tgirl
pussy to them and they are just faceless cocks. Big, small, single,
married, black, white I have no idea. I've done countless lines of blow.
I do it all the time now. Is it the hurt? Is it my figure? I've let
others blow lines off of my near naked body and use it for their pleasure
and the pleasure of my boyfriend.

Ryan loves these times when he takes me out dogging and in return he has
spent over $11,000 on me. Versace, Gucci, Prada, Louboutin. That's what's
in my closet now. If I suck and I fuck in public for his enjoyment he will
buy me anything I want. It's only when I look at the labels and see the
receipts that I realize how good a fuck I am. No one pays that kind of
money unless the pussy is real good - and mine is evidently the sweetest.
His fantasy is a dirty whore and as a result I wear what he wants and do
what he wants when he's around. I wear cheap and slutty $30 club dresses
that show off my tits and ass for him. When he's gone I have my closet
full of expensive things to fuss over. I climb out of my Mercedes in
two-thousand dollar dresses and thousand dollar shoes. I wear Prada shades
and have an 8-ball in my purse. Its right next to my $60 mascara. It pays
good money to suck random dick in public. I'll be back to the surgeon next
week for Botox, collagen and whatever else Ryan wants done. Just be
pretty.

End Diary Entry

Let me back up because a lot happened around this time that wasn't captured
in my diary. I made mention of Ryan not wanting to marry me and then never
explained it a couple entries ago. Things had gotten out of control. He
was living out his fantasy through me and my body and actions. We had a
huge fight one night, because he admitted that things were different
between us and going in a different direction. I don't recall the exact
words he used beyond liking things the way they were and not being prepared
to get married [for those who may not know, it is legal in Massachusetts
for any two people to get married]. He didn't want it anymore. He had
seen what it was like to be with a party girl. It titillated him beyond
anything he could have ever imagined, but it also destroyed us. I was so
heavy into drug use at the time - we both were - that I'm sure we weren't
thinking clearly. The stuff was everywhere, more than any two people could
do in a long time, so I had plenty at my disposal. It got to the point
where he would be gone for long stretches - multiple days at a time - and I
had nothing to do. So I'd do my best to look my best; exercise, tanning,
grooming, shopping and then I'd have all night to just sit and drink wine
and do drugs waiting for him to possibly come home. Sometimes he would.

To be honest, my feelings on Ryan had changed as well. I was crushed that
we weren't going to be together for the long term and felt betrayed; as if
I didn't get what I signed up for. That changed the way I felt about him.
I should have pushed harder for monogamy.

It's important to note that these last couple of entries truly did sum up
how I was feeling. I felt this great surge of strength once I got over us
not being together - maybe it was a weight lifting. I had resolved the
situation in my heart and head - and focused on getting my kicks sexually
and, to be honest, getting as much materially out of it as I could. We
were leaches on one another. He tried to wring every last drop of sexual
decadence he could out of me and I let him keep oiling my erotic machine
with clothes and money and drugs. Tit for tat. My tits for his pleasure,
his money for mine. These were some of the most fruitful months for both
in my life.

It's fucked up reading this stuff because I can feel my confusion and my
anger. I can feel the drugs too. Coke makes the highs and lows incredibly
sharp and leaves the middle squishy. The good times are amazing - you're a
Perfect 10 model - and the lows are the deepest trench - you're a worthless
whore. And sometimes, like in this next entry, I felt like both.

Diary Entry: April 2009

Men fawn. I own them. My hair is a sexy dark cherry, my brown eyes like a
doe. I can bat my long eyelashes and get whatever I want. I paint my face
like a man's fantasy. Dark eyes, highlighted cheeks, some bronzer and
cherry lips. My makeup is striking, but not hard. It fits my face and all
that glitters is gold. The hoops in my ears beg to be pulled on, while a
stiff cock glides past my bee-stung lips and down my throat. I look 25
thanks to multiple surgeries, Botox, collagen, microderm abrasion and
countless other beauty techniques. My DD tits swell from my chest and my
shoulders are always back, daring you to stare at my erect nipples. My
waist is tight and flat, my hips plump but not fat, giving me delicious
curves that men cream over. My ass and legs are toned and can wrap around
you like silk. My pussy is a wet dream; honeyed and fresh and always
willing to take a hard dick inside its velvety chamber. My feet are sexy,
proportionate and made for stilettos.

I wear next to nothing. My clit is small and needs little cover. I can
tuck my small chestnuts inside my cavity and a simple, spaghetti g-string
can support my clit. I love the feel of a pair of panties splitting my
ass. My legs are silky and smooth when bare, but I often dress them in the
sheerest black thigh highs. Bras barely cover my tits, when I wear them at
all.

I smell like vanilla and honey. I am constantly tanned. I wear a Playboy
bunny anklet to call their attention to my spike heels and when they fuck
me I leave my shoes on, giving the man his fantasy of fucking a pinup.

I am an object to be used; no more, no less. You can have me but it comes
with a price. If you meet my figure you can have your tgirl porn star and
she'll do anything you want. You can treat her however you want. Feed her
your cock or your friend's cocks or a stranger's cock. The more the
better, without a care in the world for disease or violence or worse. Ply
her with drugs. Buy her everything and she will focus only on her body and
your needs. For a price. Men fawn. They own me.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: May 2009

"Slutty TGirl Will Take All Cummers." That's the subject of the ad Ryan
ran on Craigslist yesterday. He posted that I'd be at a hotel in Newton
and would send the room number to all serious replies. Then he attached a
couple of pictures of me done up like a hooker and taking cocks in my mouth
and pussy.

He brought me to the hotel and I changed into a bra, panties and heels.
Then we waited for the first of however many random guys to show up and
fuck me. I ended up taking seven loads between my face and my cunt. Ryan
took pictures the entire time. Once the line of guys had been satisfied he
fucked me deep, all of their cum mixing together in my bottom. This isn't
safe for me and he doesn't seem to care.

Then I cleaned myself up and he took me shopping, my reward for being his
bitch as the cum of perfect strangers ran down my supple thighs.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: May 2009

This time I didn't even argue or let it bother me. I'm a slut and this is
what sluts do. So when he woke me up and told me he had a day planned I
got out of bed and jumped into the shower without waiting for the details.
It's all the same anyway. I dress provocatively and he brings the randoms
to fuck my cunt. I do some coke and get all sexed up and at that point any
man can have me. That's what high-maintenance skinny bitches do, right? I
weigh 122 pounds. Why don't I feel like them?

Today, Ryan dressed me in a hot pink, cinched front mini halter dress and
took me to a porn shop. I was pleased about this because I wanted some new
toys anyway. He paraded me through the store for several minutes, making
sure I made a huge spectacle of myself - tits out, ass out, lots of bending
at the waist. He even made me raise my voice and say "oh my god I just
need a cock so bad" within earshot of five other men, each one a worse
stereotype of the porn shop lingerer than the next. These are the guys
he's going to let fuck me? These fucking peep show degenerates? I'm not a
piece of high-priced ass, I'm a common street whore.

Ryan brought me back out to the car and told me to get myself ready. I
frantically chopped out three huge lines of coke and snorted them. I felt
the drugs hit my brain, felt the familiar nasal drip and choked back a dry
heave. I sniffed violently to clear my nose and felt my head spin. It
settled and playing over and over in my mind was "You're the dirtiest, most
desirable girl in the world." Yes, I fucking am.

I hiked up my dress, slid my panties off and lubed my pussy for my day's
first cock. Ryan went back in and evidently told the other customers I was
available and ready. He spent the next couple of hours walking people to
and from the porn shop to fuck the waiting tgirl slut in the car. I was in
the back and he'd open the door for them, they'd climb in and I'd go to
work on their zipper. I'd suck them for a while and then turn and offer my
ass to whoever was with me at the time. I ended up taking four loads.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: May 2009

More dogging last night. With a fucking hot twist too.

"This time without me," Ryan said as I was getting ready. He chose a black
see-through mesh minidress with a sweetheart neck and 5" peep-toe pumps, my
cherry red toenails on display. I skipped the bra and chose a black
g-string. I could see my nipples through the dress in the mirror. Fuck
it. Then I painted my face with dark plums and silvers and used plum
lipstick with black lip liner. My lips were fat and plump and the contrast
with the liner left no doubt what my mouth was for.

Ryan wanted to take me to a bar, sit me there alone in my hoochie-mama
dress and watch guys hit on me.

There were rules though. First, he only gave me a $10 bill, so I could get
my first drink on my own but after that a gentleman was going to have to
buy them for me. Second, I needed to take three different guys to the rest
room - men's or women's didn't matter, whatever was less conspicuous - and
get them off with my cunt. I could suck them or stroke them, but only to
get them ready to enter me. He wanted me fucked good and hard. Third, he
wanted proof after each one so I had to let them fuck me and then plug
myself - in their presence - so I could save the cum for Ryan and he could
watch it leak out of me. Fourth, I couldn't leave the bar and go to their
car or apartment; it had to happen in a rest room on the premises.

For my cooperation, which frankly is easy for a slut like me, I'd get a
shopping trip the next day (today). Fine. Game on.

I lobbied Ryan to allow me to wear a pair of thigh highs and different
shoes. He agreed and I slid a pair of black fishnet stockings up my legs
and a pair of black ankle boots with 5" heels. Even though it was pushing
summer and I'd stick out in thigh highs, I figured it was best to leave no
doubt in a guy's mind what I was all about. When I sat down and
seductively crossed my legs, I wanted them to see the hem of my dress, then
my bare thighs and then my hosiery. I wanted to look like a hooker.
Mission accomplished.

We got to [Boston Bar] around 7:30 and the place was pretty dead.
Whatever. There was no way I wasn't going to get this done. I was pretty
coked up and had already had a couple glasses of wine so I wasn't feeling
any pain and was already horny as fuck when I got there. I'm sure the
smell of "desperate for dick" was flooding from each pore.

I dropped my Gucci purse on the bar with a slam, making certain the noise
turned heads along the bar and at the high-top tables behind me. Then I
ordered an $8 glass of chardonnay, handicapping myself to my one and only
drink. I could have ordered a $5 glass of the house, but there was no
fucking way I was leaving myself an out to get another drink. You want to
watch me work, motherfucker?

It didn't take long for Gene or Rick or whoever the fuck he was to come
over from the other end of the bar. I'll go with Gene. I looked over
casually at Ryan when Gene came over and introduced himself. Ryan smiled
at me. Fuck you.

He introduced himself and asked if he could sit down. Then the fucking
lines came. What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone? Are you from
around here? I kept waiting for him to ask me what my sign was. Didn't
matter. I had a sex bet to win and getting a fucking from Gene - slightly
overweight, dressed OK, dark hair, stupid mustache - would bring me one
step closer.

"Great dress," he said, checking me out up and down.

"Thanks."

"You're gorgeous. What's your name, by the way?" he asked.

I flipped my hair over my ear and leaned in close to Gene, letting him
getting a whiff of my honeyed vanilla. "You are so fucking sexy," I cooed.
"I want you, and it definitely doesn't matter what my name is."

Gene smiled and looked around the room like he was being set up, which, I
suppose, he was.

I leaned in again and licked his ear. "If I tell you something crazy, can
you keep it to yourself and promise me you won't make a big deal out of
it?"

He loved the co-conspirator angle. "Sure," he said.

"I can't accept that," I flirted. "I need a yes. A firm yes." He talked
right over me and said "yes" but I wasn't done yet. "If I tell you this, I
want you to sit there for a second and take it all in. If you're OK with
it, good things will happen. If not, I can't have any reaction and then
you need to walk away."

I put my hand on his thigh.

"OK," he said. "Yes."

I leaned in close. "I'm a tgirl. Do you know what that means?"

He nodded his head, no.

"It means I'm a shemale."

As if I didn't care for that term enough ... "So you're ..." he leaned in
.... "a chick with a dick?"

I squeezed his thigh. "Exactly."

He looked at me and to his credit he did what I said and didn't react for a
full 15 seconds. He was staring straight ahead for the first five or so
seconds and then he looked me up and down again for the last ten.

"I don't believe it," he said, a smile crossing his face.

I rubbed this thigh some more.

He leaned in again, still smiling. "I think that's hot."

"You do?" I smiled.

"Yes," he answered.

"Then I'd like you to take me into the bathroom and give me the ride of my
life."

He paused. Slightly dumbstruck.

"How are we going to do that?" he asked. Trust me, Rick/Gene is a fucking
idiot. And I know idiots.

"Walk into the bathroom alcove in 30 seconds," I said as I grabbed my purse
and told the bartender I'd be right back. Then I walked seductively
towards the rest rooms, making sure every cock in the place saw the piece
of pussy that had just walked by.

I checked the ladies room first and there was two girls in there talking
about something at the mirrors. I paused for a second to see if they were
on their way out, but there didn't seem to be any stopping the
conversation, so I checked the men's room. Empty.

Gene was an idiot, but he could tell time and arrived right on cue a second
later. I took his hand and led him into the furthest stall. He locked the
door and I dropped to my knees. I lowered his zipper and reached in with
my plum colored, manicured nails, taking his cock out and feeling it
stiffen under my touch. Then I licked my lips and gently took him into my
mouth. He hardened quickly - about five inches - moaning from my skills
and steadying himself against the locked door. Using both hands I first
undid his belt and button, letting his pants fall to his knees. Then I
reached into my purse and, with his dick still in my mouth, fished around
blindly for the tube of lube in my purse. I found it, rolled my skin tight
dress up to my waist, slid my g- string to one side and greased my cunt for
Gene's cock.

The bathroom door opened and we fell silent. I looked up at Gene, his cock
deep inside my mouth and I could read the panic on his face. I took his
cock out of my mouth and quietly, as quietly as I could with click-clacking
5" heels on, got up on the toilet seat, showing Gene my ass and using the
interruption to seductively slide my panties off.

I heard the toilet flush and made a mental note not to fuck the random guy
who just left without washing his hands. Gene and I were alone again.

I climbed off the toilet, spread my thigh-high covered legs and bent at the
waist, running a seductive finger along my pussy as I did. Gene stepped
into me and I grabbed his cock, stroked it several times and guided his
hard meat into me.

He wasn't exactly packing a ton of heat, but he definitely knew what to do
with it, taking his time with me until he established a rhythm and then
giving me the fucking goods once he did.

I pressed my hand up against the tiled bathroom wall for leverage and let
Gene take my cunt at his pace. I swooned when I felt both of his hands go
to my hips and felt his full force driving into me. God I love it when a
man puts his hands on my hips. Take me to heaven! I reached between my
legs and caressed his balls and he moaned as I did so. I flipped my hair
back and turned my head to him, enjoying the view of this stranger pumping
away on my honeyed tgirl pussy.

I felt his hands move to my legs and he caressed my inner thighs as he
fucked me. My body was fully awake now and I moaned two or three times
under his assault. I was being taken, exactly as I wanted, exactly as Ryan
wanted, by this man who will hopefully never forget the t-slut he fucked in
the bathroom.

He let out another moan and I pushed hard against him, bringing him to new
heights and stirring the orgasm that was building within. I had to be
quiet and let his cum build and explode without any dirty talk, so I
reached behind and cupped his balls again, helping his orgasm along and
finally pushing him past the point of no return. I felt his body stiffen
and some spittle landed on my lower back as with a grunt he erupted inside
me. I rode out his orgasm with him, smiling to myself when I felt his
cockhead flaring inside me as it delivered it's payload into my velvety
chamber. Then I mentally crossed off number one from my fuck list.

Gene held onto me for a moment before he gathered himself. As he did so I
reached into my purse and took out my butt plug. I showed it to Gene
silently (he raised an eyebrow) and then I drove the plug home, locking his
cum inside my bottom until I could show Ryan the evidence.

Gene smiled at me and waited as I slid my g-string back up my legs and
adjusted my dress. I put a heel on the toilet seat and looked over the
partition. Still empty. I kissed Gene with a peck on the lips and slid
out of the men's room. I detoured into the ladies room just long enough to
fix my hair and makeup before returning to the bar. Gene was nowhere to be
seen, but Ryan was lightly clapping his hands when I returned.

He cocked an elbow at me from across the bar and I realized he wanted to
see the evidence now. I was aggravated that each session was going to
require two trips to the powder room - one for the fuck and one for the
proof - but a bet's a bet and if he wanted to see my cooze leaking cum I'd
show him.

I checked both doors again and while the chattering chicks were gone, some
older lady was in there taking her sweet time, so we slipped back into the
men's room - different stall - for the evidence check.

"Was it good?" Ryan asked, as I hiked up my dress and showed him the plug.

"It was good," was all I answered. Then I smiled seductively at him and
asked, "so are you ready or do you trust me?"

"I want to see."

I kissed him on the lips and put one leg up on the toilet seat. Then I
bent at the waist and teased the plug in my pussy a couple of times before
slowly, suggestively sliding it out of me.

"Oh, that's so fucking hot," he said.

"You like?" I teased.

"I love," he countered. Then, "cream pie it into this."

I looked at him and he was holding a glass from the bar.

"You are a dirty, dirty boy," was all I said. He had upped the ante on me
and I was fine with it. I have complete confidence in my cunt to deliver
the goods at any time. I put the glass under my pussy and pushed out.
Ryan was hunched over, waiting for the payload. I pushed again and heard
him moan and I knew Gene's milk was now flowing from my pot.

I let the milky trickle run for another few moments and, knowing what was
coming next, took the glass out of Ryan's hand and let the cum slide into
my mouth.

"You are the dirtiest girl in the world," he said.

I smiled, shooed him away and chopped out a couple of lines on the back of
the toilet. I enjoyed this; no shame, no regrets and smiled to myself as I
pondered the cocaine I was in the middle of doing. Nothing shocks you, I
thought to myself. Maybe I am one of those skinny bitches.

I finished up, popped a mint and took my seat back at the bar.

It took me another four hours to find my other two takers. There were some
near misses in between and a few guys were not happy when they learned I
was trans, but nothing ever got out of control and my second fuck was so
good I came twice during it. By the time I left I was fucked up - high and
drunk and on wobbly legs from dirty bathroom sex with strangers.

I won the bet, so Ryan took me shopping today. We spent over five grand
and there isn't a single thing I'll keep. Not that I'd ever tell him, but
it all goes back tomorrow for a full refund. I love it when he pays cash.

End Diary Entry

During these weeks I saw less and less of Ryan. He'd show up from time to
time to run another ad or to spend the night with me, but it wasn't like it
used to be. I was tied up a lot of the time in our bed; usually dressed in
lingerie and sometimes simply naked. He'd bind my arms over my head on the
bed and do cocaine from different parts of my body. Then he'd lift my
legs, exposing my cunt and fuck me. Often after he was done using me he'd
leave. I stopped asking where he was going after a while. He'd leave a
few hundred dollars on the island and be gone for a couple of days. Twice
he was so fucked up he left me tied up. Sounds sexy. It's not.

I had a lot of free time, plenty of money and nice clothes and eventually I
started hanging out with the girls again on a regular basis because I had
no man to care for anymore. I'd leave the house in Versace with eight
hundred dollars in my purse and I'd take the girls to the ritziest places
in Boston. We'd be dressed to the nines, completely passable and spend the
nights getting completely wasted and flirting with rich men. I did anyway.

Diary Entry: July 2009

Another Craigslist post. This time Ryan wants all of the guys in the room
before we get started. He likes the line of guys just being able to knock,
come in and then fuck me, but he's got it in his head that it would be
hotter to just have it be a free-for-all. Whatever. Take my pussy boys,
it's yours. I got a couple new dresses when I agreed to another dogging
day. Got some shoes and lingerie too - a regal purple bustier, g-string
and stockings.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July 2009

Ryan told me to be ready because the response has been really strong to his
latest post. I'm fucking doing all that I can. I'm not sure what he wants
from me. I won't eat, I'll use an enema the night before and I'll loosen
up my pussy with a few strokes from a dildo - same as I always do. I
should be good. I'm a slut and I'll be ready.

End Diary Entry

Diary Entry: July, 2009

"Guys, guys, guys! Settle down. This girl will open her legs for the
whole room. As long as you're treating her well and keeping her as the
center of attention, she's yours to do with as you please. Just make sure
you don't treat her too well."

The room laughed.

"You can fuck her, cum on her, cum in her, slap her, spank her, she's
fucking hot and she will go all night if you can."

I could hear Ryan getting the crowd of guys ready to do me as I listened
through the closed bathroom door. The room sounded full. I'd be filled
with hard, heaving cocks within ten minutes. I picked up the short straw
with my French cut nails and proceeded to finish the lines of cocaine Ryan
had chopped out for me earlier.

"Now I took all of your opinions into consideration when I dressed her and
I think you're going to like the way she looks."

I checked myself in the mirror and casually wiped away a flake of coke from
my nose. My auburn hair was teased to porn star extremes, while my eyes
were blackened with kohl liner and smoky, purple, grey and white shadow.
My lips were fat and plum. I was wearing 6" spiked heels, clear, with
ankle straps around red painted toes and black fence net thigh highs. My
silver miniskirt was only 4" long, exposing my black g-string panties and
my wide, fuckable hips. My matching silver micro bikini top barely covered
the erect nipples on my surgically enhanced DD tits. My midriff was bare,
tanned, toned, tapering to my 26" waist. Glitter covered me. I was pure
shemale sex.

"So let me bring her out boys."

The room cheered and Ryan opened the bathroom door, stepped inside and said
to me: There's 19 out there. Then he dumped another cluster of cocaine
onto the counter and began preparing two more lines.

I began doing the math in my head. Nineteen cocks at roughly 10 minutes a
cum - if each guy wanted to pop twice I was going to be fucked good and
hard for the next seven hours.

I picked up the straw again and put it to my nose, doing one line with my
left nostril and the other with my right. I sniffed hard to get it all into
my system and then looked at Ryan as a dog would her master.

"Don't worry hon, there's plenty more," he said. "But you're going to have
to work for it. You ready?"

I retouched my makeup around my nose and then added more glitter to my
lips, hair and body. Then I nodded and he opened the door.

"Boys, I give you the dirtiest fucking slut you have ever laid eyes on -
Kristy!"

The room erupted in cheers as a hard rock song began to play on a portable
player. I checked my face again and stepped out into the room a bitch in
heat.

I walked to the center of the makeshift circle, surrounded by a roomful of
guys in various states of undress, their pendulous cocks ready for their
slut. I played with my tits through my bra, teasing the room and prepping
myself for what was to come.

It didn't take long for the guys to break down any barriers they may have
had about touching me, as the hands began to roam all over my body from
behind. I felt my bra being unhooked and I slumped my shoulders to allow
it to fall to the ground. I felt my panties being lowered and my ass being
kissed. Soon after I was being kissed on the face and then on the lips as
a single tongue pressed into my mouth. I leaned forward to allow easier
access to my pussy and felt an anonymous mouth begin to tickle my aching
hole.

"I can't believe she has a dick," said one of them.

"That's the prettiest fucking he-she I've ever seen," said another.

I felt my head being pressed down and I accommodated like a good whore,
lowering to my knees as a roomful of cock closed in on me. It was a
gorgeous view, and my ego roared as the thought of all of those dicks being
there for me burned into my brain. I opened my mouth and took the closest
one inside it, reaching out with both hands to begin stroking two other
nearby cocks. The pussy licker behind me must have maneuvered himself onto
the floor because I could still feel his tongue probing my ass as I
switched to suck another meaty shaft. I was doing what I was born for;
sucking dick after sexy dick on my knees in a state of complete
objectification. I belonged to them.

It wasn't long after that they lifted me up and laid me on the bed and I
fully realized what was about to happen. On the bed, naked and open, there
was no going back. I was trapped within a sexual circle of horny men, each
one determined to fuck that little whore's brains out when it was their
turn.

I was on my back as one of the nineteen fed me his cock while another
lifted my legs and prepped my cunt with lube. I left my legs in the air
and stared at the ceiling, realizing I would be in this position or one
similar to it for the next several hours. My inner thoughts were put on
hold as the first hard cock slipped inside my anal ring. The fucking had
begun.

I moaned in ecstasy and even a little pain as he drove his cock deep inside
me. My cunt didn't have any time to react and his initial thrusts were
rough and uncomfortable. As I had done so many times before, I bore down
on the dick inside me and allowed my body to catch up with the intrusion as
my eyes rolled back in my head.

I worked the cock in my mouth deep down my throat as I took two others in
my hands, savoring the emotions charging through my body. I was "airtight"
as those boys had joked during my hooker days; my ass, mouth and hands
filled with hard, swelling pricks. My unknown cunt-stallion picked up his
pace to a full blown rage, fucking my ass with everything he had. I looked
up and could see my 6" clear heels and my painted toes draped over my first
cock's shoulders as he took his slut to the hilt. I looked at him and
smiled, watching his toned belly heave and fro as he pistoned in and out of
me. I could see the tension building in his face before I closed my eyes
and concentrated on all of the cocks touching different parts of my body.

With a grunt the first cock was pulled out of me and I watched as he jerked
it two or three times before the first of a thousand ropes that day
splashed onto my midriff and breasts. My hole was open for the next one
and it only took a moment before my second rider climbed onto the bed and
pressed his hard stick into me. God I love an assembly line.

"That's it baby, fuck that tight hole," I cooed, taking my mouth off a cock
for a brief moment. "Give me that fucking dick, yeah."

Then I shoved my blowjob back down my throat. I fucking needed it, but he
pulled it away from me - he didn't want to cum yet and wanted to get in
line to fuck me. Thankfully he was replaced with yet another one, black
this time and incredibly wide. He stuffed it into my mouth roughly and I
gagged on the size for a second before recovering. Then my black man
grabbed hold of my ears and began driving his delicious meat down my throat
through brute force. I choked and wheezed and the drool began to pour out
of my mouth as my nose began to run. He slapped my face and I took his
whole cock, slipping my tongue out from under it to lick his hairy balls.
I gazed up at him and could see the triumph on his face. I had given him
control of me and he took it fully. I am a useful toy.

On and on the onslaught went in my pussy. Cocks were driving me and
drilling me and when they had had their fill their purple engorged heads
would flare and fire their seed onto my belly, tits and neck. Heavy thick
streams were filling my mouth, pouring their delicious milk down my throat.
There was an outburst when one of the guys exploded inside my cunt, the
first time that had happened that day, and it divided the room for a short
while. Some guys were pissed that my honeyed hole had been spoiled.
Others clearly didn't care, as my now cum-slicked box was filled yet again
with seven inches of delicious man meat. The thought of a man wanting me
so bad that he would willingly slide his cock inside my cunt as a random
stranger's seed leaked from it made my mind reel. I am a goddess.

"Take me," I shouted. "Take that fucking dirty cunt! I need it. I
fucking need it. You fuck me now, yeah fuck me, take that hole!" I
screamed as I slapped at my new rider's thigh.

I was over the edge, a one-woman sex machine, constantly aware of a cock
near me that I could hungrily stuff into my mouth or stroke with my hands
or open my pussy for. In time my body had warmed to the challenge and even
though the angle they had me at wasn't optimum, I could feel my orgasm
build and then starburst through my whole body as first the droplets and
then the ropelets of cum began to flow from my soft clit.

"Oh fuck yeah!" I screamed. "Fuck yes, oh, I'm cumming!"

The room thought this was hilarious and news of my cum spread through it
quickly. Another cock exploded in my ass and then another one on my tits.
A second orgasm, this one far easier to achieve, ricocheted through me as
the ropes of my own milk freely flowed from my body and mixed with the
man-juice now coating my body. I was an animal now, running on pure lust
and abandon. My next cock wanted me doggie and I was flipped onto my
stomach and then set on my hands and knees as he entered my gaping hole. I
welcomed the change of position and lustily crammed another cock in my
mouth as he began to bang away on my cunt. I could hear the cum sloshing
around inside me as he took me to the hilt.

"Fuck, oh yes, fuck," I whimpered. "Oh, give it to me. Oh, use me. Oh."

"Give her this," said one of the guys, reaching over to slide the straw and
the plate of cocaine under my nose. Those in the room who could see what
they had done laughed. I was a pathetic coke whore to them, but inside so
proud to have let all of my inhibitions float away forever. You see me as
a coke whore, but I am proud of it. I am proud of the names you call me
because you want me with all of your being. For their benefit and mine, I
did a couple of lines while the cock in my ass continued to pound away on
me and the streams of cum once again poured from my tiny clit.

The queue slowly worked its way through me as I took more heavy and thick
streams of cum on my back and in my cunt. At one point I looked over at
Ryan, his mind many miles away in some dreamlike sexual state, and the look
on his face told me everything I needed to see. His conquering of his slut
was now complete. In his mind I had been torn down. What he will never
understand is that he also rebuilt me in the image of my choosing. I
wanted this.

I let that image of Ryan fry into my brain and then refocused myself on my
own body and the task at hand. Another dick appeared, fresh from fucking
my ass, the head purple and ripe and angled at me as it splashed six ropes
of tangy cum into my face, coating my eyes and taking away any last shred
of dignity I may have had. I smiled.

Yet another orgasm for me as cocks nine and then ten had their way with me.
By now I was covered in spunk. It was in me and on me everywhere and I was
at times both slick from new coatings and sticky with old ones. They had
been rough with me, pinching my nipples hard and slapping my ass and thighs
as they rode me to orgasm.

Then I felt my pussy being stretched to the point of discomfort. Through
cum coated eyes I watched as two of my roomful patiently worked their cocks
into my pussy at the same time. I moaned, first in pain and then ecstasy
as they slid past my anal ring and deep inside me together, stretching my
cunt to its breaking point and ratcheting up my debasement even higher.

As these two enormous dicks sawed away at me I was completely at their
disposal, squealing like the cum pig I am as rope after rope of my own cum
was drilled out of my clit, pooling on the sheet below me. I was being
milked and powerless to stop it. I was gone, fully raptured inside a
sexual space of multiple orgams and complete animalistic debasement. They
could have done anything they wanted with me as I swooned and bore down on
the massive rods in my pussy, angling them just right to drive into my
prostate and milk it towards another orgasm.

"Take me," I squealed. "Fucking take me. Take your slut!"

The double penetration seemed to go on for hours. I was open and pliable
and let them take me as they wanted, stuffing my mouth with the next
available cock, while the two in my ass took me to new sexual heights.
Finally they reached their boiling point. One of my studs pulled out of me
and jerked his cock off on my tits, while the other fucked me hard and deep
for several strokes before exploding inside me. He pulled out and I could
feel my cunt gaping. It was enormous, loose and dirty and open and still
hungry. I missed the full feeling and pleaded to get it back.

"Fuck me. Somebody please fuck me."

The room heard my call and yet another dick slid inside my abused cunt. I
thanked him and jammed my cum covered face into the pillow, concentrating
all of my energy on my bottom. I wanted another cum - for myself and my
lover - and I was going to have them both. My cunt was loose but my pump
had been primed and I got the angle just right and shrieked again in
delight.

"I'm cumming! Oh fuck yes, I'm fucking cumming again!" I shouted, my
throat hoarse from screaming through the marathon. "Don't ever stop
fucking me!"

On and on it went. More cum in my face, on my tits and in my pussy. I
took all the slaps and the pinches as they came, each guy taking his turn
trying to add some pain to his pleasure. They slapped me and hit me and
even bit me at times. One guy tried to spit into my mouth. Another tried
to take my shoes off so he could fuck me with one of them. I was a dirty
whore to the room - my true calling - and each one conquered me and used me
to the fullest. I was wanton, completely oblivious to my own surroundings,
caring only about the next cock and my next cum. I never wanted the line
to end.

When it did, a full six hours after we had begun, I lay on the bed coated
in cum, my legs a shaking and battered mess, the cum from all of those men
literally pouring out of my cunt with each breath I took. My pussy was
loose and yawning. It had been savagely fucked and left for dead. And
still I wanted more. The sadness I felt when it ended is like nothing I
have ever experienced before. I wanted nineteen more. I could have
handled it. At least, at that second I thought I could have. Thankfully,
I didn't get the chance.

Ryan told me I looked beautiful when it was over. I felt that way too,
until I was able to slowly make my way to the bathroom. Waiting for me in
the mirror was as beautiful an image as I have ever seen. I was covered in
dried cum, my hair a rat's nest, my body battered, my makeup completely
smeared and rubbed off, my nipples red and bloodied. I looked gaunt, my
nose running from all of the cocaine and blowjobs and I had hand prints
everywhere from all of the slaps. I stood there with my legs shaking,
gazing at the triumphant image in the mirror, a survivor staring back at
me. Then I passed out.

Evidently I went down in a heap because when I came to I could barely
breathe and Ryan thought I may have had a concussion because I slammed into
the bathroom door when I fell. Ryan was over me when I came to and helped
get my heels off so I could get into a warm bath. I couldn't stop my legs
from shaking and I remember that the water actually turned a milky white
from all of the cum washing off - and pouring from - my body. I sat in the
tub for almost two hours, reheating the water whenever it seemed to be
cooling.

Then, with my legs completely gone and barely able to stand, I was forced
back into my 6" spiked heels for the drive home. I managed to get to the
car, completely pigeon toed and cramped and by the time we got home the
pain was so bad I had to crawl on my hands and knees from the garage. Gone
forever are the days when Ryan would have carried me.

End Diary Entry

The Whore Rising OR I Am What I Am

If I had balls (pun intended) I would have simply ended The Dogging Diaries
after the above entry. That was my original intention as it was the last
time I wrote in my journal for some time. Like a lot of things, once you
stop doing them it's hard to start again and with my life in a state of
flux I never made it a priority anymore. I moved a few times and I thought
my journal was lost, a victim of my unrest. It turned out my entries were
safe and sound on a flash drive in one of those plastic storage tubs for a
few years before I got curious and actually plugged the flash key into my
computer and realized my journal was still intact.

Understand, I never wrote with the idea of posting my diary. It was just a
personal exercise, something to catalog my transition and my life.
Becoming and being a tgirl is a unique journey. It's full of highs and
lows, firsts and lasts and quirky little life moments that make it all
worthwhile. My journal is littered with entries that are not included in
this online version because they didn't always work in a narrative format.
And, once I got the idea to post them I elected to focus on the entries
that told my story in some kind of semi-coherent way.

A word about the diaries in general ... I've gotten a tremendous response,
more than I ever could have predicted. I've made new friends as a result
of it and I've pissed plenty of people off too. Both are OK with me. I'm
just thankful you took the time to read them.

In the course of posting the entries over the last few months, two central
questions have been posed to me in various forms over and over:

1) Is this real? 2) Are you OK now?

I'll answer both of those questions in a moment. As a result of this
process, I've become very friendly with one reader to the point where we
talk almost every day. He thought it would be great once The Dogging
Diaries was completed to allow him to take on the role of Joe Public and
ask me a series of questions about the diaries to clear up any loose ends
he felt were worthwhile and to dig a little deeper into certain areas of my
life. I'm all for it and I told him to feel free to ask me anything he
wants and he can expect my uncensored answers. I and am happy to report
those questions are due to me in the next day or so. Once I have a chance
to answer all of them, I'll post them here.

As for the two questions above, my answers are easy. Completely, and read
on ...

For all intents and purposes, that last gang bang was the official end of
my relationship with Ryan. Whatever was left of the warm feelings we had
between us was certainly not going to be able to withstand a fucking from
nineteen men. Nothing can come back from that. The level of respect on
both sides is gone.

After that fucking, I was a wreck for days. I was passing blood.
Everything hurt. Ryan didn't want to see me in that state. He said it was
"unbecoming," so he wasn't around much. I had to figure out what to do on
my own. I was deeply concerned about my own health, and yet, with no
health insurance what could I do? I slept a lot and tried to heal. I
cried a lot; not over Ryan certainly, but over what my life had become. I
think I had finally gotten it through my bimbo head that I'm a whore. That
realization can be tough for a girl to process. I had needed to come to
terms with it for a long time. Once I did it hit me hard. And then like
that, I reconciled it as 19 guys gang-banged me in a hotel room.

My pussy was seemingly destroyed. I had a lot of problems health-wise for
weeks. I was a mess and for a time I wasn't sure everything would recover
and be normal. Unfortunately, the weight of this realization was too much
for my drug-addled brain to handle.

I stayed at Ryan's for several more weeks, seeing him occasionally when he
showed up. Both of us were civil when he did, and while he hadn't asked me
to leave, it was obvious if I wasn't up for being his slut then I wasn't
welcome. He wanted to take me "dogging" again a few days after the
nineteen guys but I refused for health reasons and later he talked about
setting up another hotel gang-bang but it never came to pass. Once I said
no to those things he completely lost interest. It took me weeks to
recover from that day in the hotel and, with Ryan nowhere to be found I
reached into our coke stash and drugged my sadness over Ryan and overall
pain into oblivion. I became a recluse. I'd be fucked up for days and
then I'd come to for a day and try to get my life back on track. But I was
paralyzed because I had too many problems. Should I find a job? Where
should I live? What should I say to Ryan? It felt like the sky had
fallen. I'd sit there and think about all of these things and not act on
any of them. Then I'd pour some wine and chop some lines and fade off into
my alternate state.

When my friends found me I was passed out, naked save for a pair of heels,
on my kitchen floor. My friends, Shauna and Amber and I had evidently made
plans to go out that night a few days before. Apparently, I was coherent
on Tuesday of that week and didn't remember anything else until the day
they showed up at my house - a Friday. I don't know exactly what happened.
A drug overdose is certainly possible, but I can't say for sure.

The night they found me on the floor, I lied to them both and said Ryan and
I had been up until all hours partying, and while I learned later they
didn't buy it, neither of them had any idea just how bad things had gotten.
Still, I was convincing enough to let the night continue and before long I
was on my way to the shower while they waited for me to get ready to go
out. I turned the shower on and slipped into my bedroom where I chopped
out the four biggest lines of coke I've ever done and blew them away.
These were my darkest days. I was in a terrible place, lost and confused,
unsure of who I was and what I wanted to be. I was a coke whore and a
former hooker. I had been fucked on camera for money. I regularly gave my
body to random strangers who didn't deserve it but got it anyway because I
needed their cocks. I had engaged in anonymous, unprotected sex with
hundreds of men. I was unemployed, without health insurance and alone. In
this particular case, I was both literally and figuratively fucked.

When Ryan threw me out in early September of 2009 I climbed onto a public
bus in a $400 Cache dress and Christian Louboutins shoes, my mascara
running down my face from the bitter inevitability of having no place to
go. I took the bus into downtown Boston, carrying as much of my wardrobe
as I could and deposited myself and my remaining belongings on the front
step of Amber's apartment. For those brief moments, unable to reach my
friend and carrying everything I owned in a couple of cases, I was
homeless. Hours earlier I was in a seven-thousand square foot house with
the keys to an $80,000 Mercedes. How the faux mighty had fallen.

Amber took me in and I am forever grateful for that. We agreed that I
needed to find my own place and set a tentative length of my stay at a
week. I had a week to find a place to go. I had eight grand in my purse.

Against her better judgment I rented a room - not an apartment, a room - in
Cleveland Circle on the outskirts of Boston proper. It had a shared
bathroom with six or seven other tenants, each with their own rooms. The
place was filthy but the rent was cheap and I could pay week to week.
Believe it or not, it was the exact arrangement I was looking for. I
didn't plan on staying long, the whole place kept to themselves and when I
saw a couple of butch lesbians disappear into their little one-room love
nest I figured it had the alternative slant to keep me safe. I cleaned out
a local supermarket's supply of Fantastik and Windex, threw on some latex
gloves and a do-rag and went to work.

I had the clothes. I had the charm and the gift of flirt. I had the looks
and no sexual boundaries. What I didn't have was a lot of disposable cash,
time or a real vagina. And that last one was a fucking problem.

I admit life is easier for pretty tgirls. I didn't make that rule, nor am
I trying to be arrogant, it's just the way it is. But life - or the real
easy road in life ... belongs to pretty genetic girls. The super hot ones
don't even need a bank account. Like a prized thoroughbred in the paddock,
every eye is on them.

Well, after all the work I had done on myself and the hormones and the
surgeries I believed I had the aesthetic horsepower to run with the
mustangs. Unfortunately in this case, what I also had was a clit ... and
in the land of the rich, eligible, status conscious, reputation conscious,
ego driven existence of the single, successful guy, a clit on their hot
girlfriend is not something most men are looking for. For a little while I
tried to convince myself otherwise. I had seen so many guys fawn over me I
came to believe that everyone just naturally would. I was wrong. Tgirls
are a niche.

Four nights a week I would doll myself up and get to some of Boston's
hottest night spots early so I could skip the cover and get a prime seat at
the bar. I was in swanky places, looking swanky and hoping to find the
right Mr. Swank for me. Sometimes the girls would come with me, sometimes
I was alone. Didn't matter. I struck out swinging.

Sure I met guys. I met lots of them. I let a few of them fuck me and
passed on plenty of others. There's a selection process when it comes to
this sort of manhunt that works both ways and isn't for the faint of tgirl
heart. I got made once at the bar by a guy who loudly announced there was
a "he-she" sitting in his seat. Good times.

Inevitably when I met guys, we'd flirt and they'd ask me out and if I
thought they were worth pursuing I'd tell them when they called that I was
trans. I figured once I got that out of the way I was good to go. A lot
of guys eliminated themselves on their own at that point. It wasn't their
thing. To be honest, I figured telling them on the phone, away from any
social pressures they would feel at a bar would increase my chances with
them. They thought I was fun and pretty - that's why they asked for my
number - so why wouldn't they be down for a date with me? It's not like
their buddies needed to know. It didn't work. Alas, tgirls are special,
and it takes a special type of guy to have that type of interest.

I debated this endlessly with my friends. Finally we decided that we
should hang in the more alternative areas in town. That perhaps I/We were
in places that were too straight. I met a lot more men that were
interested in me and didn't care that I was a tgirl that way. The downside
was, they weren't what I was looking for.

Given everything I said in that last paragraph, it's interesting to me that
one night, back in too-straight-ville, I met Jonathan. I'll get to him in
a minute. I still stand by what I said before. I only know three tgirls
who have met men in the straight vanilla world and landed them. I'm
talking about guys that had zero predispositions to tgirls before, met the
tgirl, thought she was a genetic female, found out she had something extra
in her panties and still said, "I don't care. I like you."

Can we have a fucking round of applause for these guys? They deserve it.

I was instantly attracted to Jonathan the night we met. I wasn't doing any
writing in my diary at the time, so I don't have the play-by-play, but I
remember this night like it was yesterday. It wasn't dramatic or overly
romantic or anything. It just sort of happened. I was sitting with Amber
having a drink at the bar in a trendy Boston seafood restaurant when he
came in alone and ordered a bottle of wine I recognized as costing a small
fortune. My antenna went up. Jonathan was a hottie - short slightly
messed up hair with some gel in it, a couple days worth of scruff (yummy)
and a sharp suit. Thirty-five ... ish. Tall. Blue eyes. Good build. A
panty dropper.

Amber was closer to him, but it allowed me to be looking at her, while
still looking past her, directly at him. Since she was turned towards me,
she'd essentially have to turn around to talk to him. I could be more
subtle. Eventually we made eye contact and then he started to join our
conversation. By now Amber had obviously noticed too and the Great War of
the Tgirl Pussy 2010 had begun. The buxom brunette versus the busty
blonde. Don't look for it in the history books. Just accept that there
truly was a war fought between two hot t-chicks in a Boston Restaurant. I
haven't seen such ruthless competition for a single dick in my entire life.

That girl can fucking flirt man. I love her to death but let's just say
fake eyelashes are not supposed to bat that often. I found out later that
Jonathan prefers brunettes anyway, but it was my knowledge of wine that
sealed it for him.

Jonathan was perfect. Everything I could have ever wanted. Funny,
personable, decisive, handsome, rich, all of it. It appeared to be a
mother load - every girl's wet dream. He asked me out and I said yes. He
called and I told him I was a tgirl and he said he didn't care. We went out
to nice restaurants and I got to wear my prettiest, sexiest dresses and be
squired around by a guy who seemed to have life by the balls. He made his
money in real estate and owned several commercial and residential
properties around the city. Just the properties alone were worth tens of
millions. He had a staff and some personal assistants and some hangers on
who seemed to be there to do him favors.

Of those three tgirls I know who successfully managed to land a guy, the
third one is me. I'm the only one it didn't end well for - surprise,
surprise. Although I suppose in the end, it did. Let me explain.

Jonathan and I went on our first real "date" on a weeknight. We had some
drinks and appetizers at a small, upscale Boston bar. I had my major flirt
on and he could not have been more charming. We had a blast and he asked
me a lot of questions about tgirls - the hows and the whys and all of that.
I didn't know it at the time, but he had dated a couple of T's in the past
and his ignorance on the subject was staged. At the time though, I was
smitten. I saw him again that Friday; the same night I passionately gave
my body to him in the hotel room he had rented.

Jonathan was a good lover; attentive, soft at times, rough at others, with
a full 8" of delicious dick that caused me to swoon. I loved bending over
for him. He made me feel so sexy throughout almost all of our entire
relationship - when we actually saw one another. I'll get to that in a
minute.

He was into me and I was into him and it didn't take long for him to start
making noises about us moving in together. I was all for it, but I never
pushed him and I went back to my shitty Cleveland Circle room with a smile
on my face. It took weeks for him to actually stop talking about it and
ask me.

Finally, it happened. Kind of. He brought me to a gorgeous one floor
apartment in a Boston brownstone (not too far from where coke boy Tom
lived) and asked me if I wanted to live there. I was ecstatic and hugged
him and kissed him and all was well ... until he mentioned that it was a
gift for me, and that he wasn't going to be moving in. I asked him where
he'd be and he said he was keeping his place. It didn't make a lot of
sense but I didn't ask or push and next thing I knew I had a beautiful new
place to call home. It was a dream come true. Awesome boyfriend, awesome
place to live, awesome life.

Like Ryan, he had rules too. I should have known right then and there it
wasn't going to work out. Thing is, Jonathan was so passive-aggressive
that it took me a long time to figure out his rules actually existed. If
he came over and I wasn't ready or wasn't dressed sexy enough, he never
made a big deal about it. He'd just suggest that I "look so sexy in heels.
Can you wear them for me?" or "you look so pretty in the shorter dress."
Shit like that. And it worked. I was never in anything but heels again
when I knew he'd be coming over and my dresses, short to begin with, became
microscopic.

If I wasn't ready when he got there he'd say things like "you really need
to be ready when I get here. I had dinner reservations for us tonight and
we're not going to make it." And then we'd have to stay in and I'd spend
the rest of the night on my knees trying to make it up to him. There was
always a teaching lesson with him. A passive-aggressive lesson that
ultimately left me feeling like I needed to do better next time.

In my desire to please, I just thought he was speaking his mind. But it
got to the point where I HAD to be ready at 5:00PM every single day,
dressed to impress and made up properly and ready to roll ... and yet we
seldom went anywhere. I'd be all dolled up and he would show up and we'd
have a drink and something light that I had prepared and then we'd have sex
and then he'd leave because he had "business" or "was meeting someone" or
whatever.

And then there were his boys. Jonathan never wanted me to leave the house
alone. I had told him about the rape and he said it was dangerous and I
should have someone with me. So, whether I wanted some fresh air or had an
errand to run, there was always one of his guys with me. Some I had
nicknames for, like "Turtle" or "Salisbury," some seemed to just blow in
with the wind. They'd drive me places and get me things. Once a week
they'd deliver groceries from a prepared list I had made with Jonathan.
Same items every week from the grocery, same items from the liquor store.

He insisted I keep the spray tan going, so once a week I'd get a ride to
the tanning salon with one of his boys. At first it was kind of cool, but
over time it got weird. They were just always around. On a lot of weekend
days, Jonathan and his entourage would come by my place for a sporting
event. They'd watch it in my apartment. Again, at first, it was kind of
cool. I'd get dolled up and make a bunch of fun finger foods and they'd
show up and I'd play hostess and we'd have a great time. But it just kept
happening and over time I think some of them viewed it like it was their
own little bachelor pad - like a Hooters with trannies.

I voiced plenty of concerns to Jonathan over the course of the almost two
years we were together. Trust me, I didn't take the whole thing lying
down. By then I was completely comfortable in my skin and with who and
what I am. But he was shrewd and he knew just the right buttons to push
with me to either keep me docile or distracted. Some were more devious -
he dangled us being together forever, he dangled the fact that he was
paying for my apartment, etc. Some were more subtle - one night I
mentioned I get horny when I do coke and the next thing you know, there's a
big bag of coke being brought to me by one of his guys.

I complained I wasn't getting enough exercise and next thing I know one
room becomes a home gym. All of this exercise equipment just starts
showing up at the house. If I told him I missed the islands, would one of
his boys shown up with a private plane? The whole thing was ridiculous.

To be fair and unbiased, there were plenty of great times. We had many,
many great and romantic nights spent making love into the early mornings.
I was happy for a long time being his slut. Jonathan knew when to go to
the whip with me (truly) and when to be soft. He would tie me up and drip
candle wax on me and use clothespins on my nipples and slowly flick them
off of me. He always had devious sex games going on with remote vibrating
butt plugs and things like that. He loved playing those sorts of games and
I wasn't going to tell him no. A lot of my memories of our time together
consist solely of me screaming in rapture and cumming over and over again.
That dick was a champion and he really knew how to ride me with it. Just
writing about it makes me wiggle. If the rest of our relationship was like
those times things would have been different. He could be tender too.
There were many nights he didn't fuck me - he made love to me and made sure
all of my needs were met over and over again.

One of the greatest things he did, and something I will forever be indebted
to him for was suggesting I change my name. He wanted to take me to Aruba
and obviously we needed passports and it was at this time he urged me to
change my name officially and take a female name. Kristy was how everyone
knew me, but it was never my legal name. My license still said Stephen on
it. There's something special about taking a real girl's name in a tgirl's
life. It does wonders for the soul. And it was his idea and his urging
and his support that made it all happen. I'm forever grateful for that.

And that's how a tgirl called Kristy officially became Alexandra. I never
would have known how to navigate that process if it wasn't for Jonathan.

Over time, through his passive-aggression and my willingness to please, we
settled into a similar routine to the one I had with Ryan. I'd sleep in,
work out, get chaperoned somewhere to make myself pretty; be it the salon
or the manicurist or the tanning place - and then I'd come home and get
dressed up in something sexy, he'd come home, we'd drink a little, eat a
little, maybe do a little blow and then he'd fuck me. And then he'd leave.
And I hated it when he'd leave.

And it made me suspicious. The guy just wasn't around that often. He'd
come at strange times and go at strange times. He'd have his boys at my
house a lot, always being nice but certainly watching me. No one ever made
a move on me - they knew where their bread was buttered - but the whole
thing led me to two simple conclusions: He was married and I was being
kept.

After years of whoring and years of dogging I had become exactly that to
him. I was his pussy on the side that he kept stowed away at his little
love nest. Oddly, and you may not believe this, but I never confronted him
about it. I just knew deep in my soul that I right. He was married and I
was his stashed girlfriend. Maybe I was the only one, maybe not. I never
bothered to ask. I was a kept woman. I was OK with that part of it - I
know what I'm good for. But, he just wasn't around enough. Had I been
given some freedom to be social or to shop or see my friends, I would have
bent over for him forever without ever needing any more than that. But in
this world I was a captive, a borderline prisoner with no life of my own.
It didn't sit well.

I was on my own; constantly worried about making sure I was ready and
dressed to thrill at 5:00PM. Sometimes he'd show up. More often he
wouldn't. I'd sit there waiting for hours in a hooker minidress, sipping
wine and waiting for his key to hit the lock. And I'd be stuck waiting for
hours. I couldn't change in case he came over. So I'd sit and I'd wait.
And then around 10:30 or 11:00PM I'd get a message or a phone call saying
he wasn't going to be able to make it. This happened once for three
straight weeks. I was losing my mind to boredom.

One day I pushed really hard for a computer, something to keep me in
contact with the world, some way I could get news. He refused and only
after a lot of screaming and several days of me being the biggest cunt I
could be did he relent. And wouldn't you know a laptop showed up the next
day.

It was on that laptop in the summer of 2011 that I discovered what
eventually became The Dogging Diaries on the flash drive. It took me a
while to really lock in on publishing them. I didn't think they'd be that
interesting to anyone else. Eventually, I got around to reading them again
and came up with the idea to post them in a format that eliminated a lot of
thoughts and ideas and other randomness in the diary and focused on my
story. When I looked at them in that light I realized there's a pretty
crazy journey in those entries and someone, somewhere might learn something
from them.

I also needed to have some contact with the outside world and maybe by
posting the diary I could meet some new people. So, I published the first
chapter, electing to start with the end because I like stories that do
that. The response was overwhelming and I've made a lot of new pen pals
throughout this process (you know who you are). I'm so incredibly thankful
for that.

Where was I?

It got to the point where my life was mind-numbingly dull. Jonathan had
become very controlling and we hardly ever spent any time alone anymore.
When we were together, he was more interested in playing sex games with me
in front of his friends. I loved that part of it, although I wish we had
some alone time too. It didn't happen. He'd come over with his boys and
I'd be expected to wait on them, wearing next to nothing and just smile,
serve beer and shut up. He was always making me show his boys my tits.
Sometimes I'd blow him in front of the room as they all watched the game.
When it was really on, he'd take me into my room and fuck me so hard they
could all hear me screaming. Those times were fun, a blast really, but
they just didn't happen enough.

I needed an escape. A real escape given the amount of scrutiny I was under
from his guys and there was no way I was going back to a room in Cleveland
Circle. I thought about getting a "real" job but I'm not sure I'm cut out
for that anymore. I'm a party girl and gone were the days of me trying to
deny it.

I had met some tgirls from San Francisco a couple of years earlier at a
tgirl conference and we had always kept in touch. I got back into contact
with them and they were thriving; living a life on their own terms, making
their own money as dancers and entertainers and generally doing their thing
and making a ruckus. When they told me they had room for one more in their
apartment, assuming I found myself a job pronto when I got out there, I
couldn't have been more elated. These were my kind of girls - fun loving,
kind, smart, sexy - and I knew this was the thing for me.

I told the girls I was coming, packed my shit and left Jonathan a note. I
went to Logan Airport in 5" stripper heels, bought a one- way ticket to San
Francisco, dealt with the 85 security issues a one-way ticket bought with
cash causes you these days and was out here on the west coast six hours
later. That was February 2012.

I wasn't sure at the time if it was a long vacation or a brand new start,
but I'm still here. I found work as a waitress at a tgirl club and now I'm
a dancer at the same place. I make my own money and am living life on my
own terms. I'm a slut and proud of it.

In stories, they say it's important that the main character be someone you
can root for. If the character is flawed and makes mistakes, that
character needs to fix those mistakes and redeem themselves at the end.
That way the audience goes home happy. Well, I don't think I'm redeemable.
This is real life. I am who I am. As a result, I'm multifaceted. I'm a
slut, a hooker, a tgirl, a rape victim, a cocaine user, a hot piece of ass
and a skinny bitch. I'm also self-aware, a college graduate, a good
daughter and sister, a loyal friend, an animal lover, a fighter for trans
rights and an author. Most importantly, I'm happy now.

And while these diaries have come to an end, the madness has not. Ask me
about Hawaii. Or Vegas. Or last night.

Wet, Slutty Kisses
Alexandra Moore
aj.justthisonce@gmail.com
 
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Nifty - Transgender - Control - The Dogging Diaries