Cross-questioning

By Alexander Levitzky

Published on Jun 11, 2010

Transgender

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The University campus is great in late Spring. I was sitting in the sun on a bench in front of my dorm, trying to pay attention to the textbook I should have been studying, half dozing, when a girl sat down on the other end of the bench. I looked at her. Nice. Shoulder length blonde hair, a short flowered dress that exposed most of her mesh-stockinged legs; sexy.

"Hello," I said.

She answered, "Hello."

"Nice day," I offered.

"Uh-lovely," she replied.

A discordant bell rang in my head. Her voice was low. There was something about her slender body, although feminine enough, that didn't fit her image. And why did she hesitate in saying the typically feminine word "lovely"? This wsn't a girl, I thought, this was a boy, dressed as a girl. Fascinating.

Go right for it, I thought. If I'm wrong, she'll leave, and I'll be no worse off. I asked, "Are you a cross-dresser?"

Her smile vanished and her eyes showed startlement. She looked at me for a very long moment and said, "Yes."

"You look nice, very nice," I said, "and you have wonderful legs."

"Thank you," she replied, and smiled, rather tentatively.

"Tell me," I said, "do those clothes - uh - stimulate you?"

There was a long pause while she stared at me. "Yes," she finally said.

"They stimulate me, too," I said.

She looked at me in a kind of wonderment. Our eyes met, and something passed between us, a mutual understanding. Suddenly we were at ease with each other.

At length I said, "My room is right back here," I said. "Why don't we go get out of the sun."

"Alright," she anwered, and smiled.

I got up and so did she, gracefully. I led the way through the dorm's open door and down the stairs to my basement room, big and airy despite its subprime location. I opened the door,we went in, and I made a show of closing the door and locking it firmly. She looked around, at my cluttered desk and big bed and then, smiling, at me. I had just taken my shoes off, and she kicked off her pumps.

She came close, put her hands on my shoulders, and drew my head to hers. Our mouths met, our lips opened, and our tongues pressed together. There was nothing masculine about that, just an exciting feminine softness accented by her lovely perfume.

When we broke I said, "If we took those clothes off, it would be even more stimulating."

"Alright," she said, "you do it."

She raised her arms and I could pull her dress up over her head. She had a white bra and blue panties that showed a big bulge, and her stockinged legs were lovely.

"Now you," she said, hands on my belt, unclasping it, unbuttoning my pants, pulling down the zipper and pushing them to the floor. As I stepped out of my pants my prick was making a big tent in my shorts. She grabbed my shorts and pulled them down and my prick stood forth in all its hardness. She looked at it and smiled.

I put my hands on her waist and pulled at those panties. What emerged was a lovely, long cut prick, not quite hard. I dropped to my knees and took it in my mouth. The feel of a prick sliding between my lips for the first time is wonderful. It was delicious, and it quickly straightened and grew hard as I tongued it eagerly.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

I didn't want to remove my mouth, and uttered something like "shishy-nie".

"Oh, lovely," she said. "Let's get on the bed."

We did, lying on our sides, inverted, mouths by our pricks. I took hers into my mouth and she did mine. We began our work. She was good, sending up waves of pleasure, and I caressed her prick with all my skill. Soon we were pumping hard, and the pleasure grew enormously.

She came a little before I did, and I had the sweet sensation of her sperm coating my mouth and tongue and sliding down my throat before the explosion of my own orgasm blotted out every other sensation. When I came back to earth we were still together, sucking our deflating pricks until we had extracted the last drops.

As we released one another she said, "That was wonderful!"

I agreed, "Spectacular!"

"Oh, Lord, I don't think I can get up," she said.

"Don't," I replied. "Stay there until we're ready for the next one."

"I can't stay," she answered, "but I'll sure want the next one."

"All right," I said, "twenty-four hours should do it. How about tomorrow?"

"Yes?" she said, "same time, same place?"

It was the same time and place the next day, and I gave her an extra treat. I lubricated the fingers of one hand and inserted two in her anus while we sucked. She loved that, and did the same for me the next day.

There were a lot of days. We got better and better at our sucking and I would spend every evening warm and relaxed, reliving what we had been doing.

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