When I learned we would be in Rio for a few days, I was overjoyed. Rio de Janeiro would have just what I was looking for. While on leave in Australia, I had developed a yearning for special girls, and through careful research, Rio seemed to be someplace very special indeed.
It first started as I was flipping through one of those dirty letter-type magazines; the kind where "ordinary guys" write in about their sexual conquests and adventures. One chapter really fired me up. It was called "Man, I feel like a woman," and had 3 stories about guys who met women who were really men. I don't know why I got so turned on, because the idea of having sex with another man just didn't do anything for me. Yeah, I had been approached, but always turned it down. Hell, I even walked in on it once. But, don't ask, don't tell, and see no evil. Guys were gross. They're hairy, smelly and just not what I was looking for.
But these stories, they really got me going. I don't know why, but I do know that I read, and reread the letters until the cheap magazine fell apart. There was just something sexy about the whole idea of dating a chick with a dick.
Naturally, my next step was to find more stories. To find out where I could find some of these mysterious creatures. And maybe to find out why I liked them so. I had to wait 3 weeks before our next port of call to start my search. 8 hours in an Internet cafe and $300 in charges later, I was in hog heaven. I found websites, pornsites, photos, stories, chatrooms, and everything I could ever dream of wanting.
When we arrived in Rio, I got my 3-day pass and disappeared. I found a high rise hotel not far from the beach, but not too close to the city's seedier neighborhoods. After dumping my gear, I headed back to the street. Anyone watching me would have guessed I was up to no good. I was wearing dark sunglasses, and looking around to make sure no one I knew was around. I jumped in the first cab parked out front, too much of a hurry to notice that he was still helping the old couple he was dropping off. I sat low in the back seat, nervous as hell. Once we were moving, I told the cabby what I was looking for, and he nodded nonchalantly. That's when I realized that I probably shouldn't be so nervous. I was in a city where this wasn't all that uncommon, and was relatively accepted. It was a large city, and the likelihood of me running into someone I knew was low. We drove about a block, and the cab stopped in front of a nondescript 2-story building, with the windows painted over. I paid the inflated fare and stepped out into the street. It was 8 o'clock and the sunlight was fading fast. The street we were on was apparently not a major one. Few people walked along the curbs, on their way to someplace else, someplace more happening. The taxi sped off, leaving me to make my choice. I looked at my destination. The only indication what I sought was inside, was the shine of neon through a window in the door, the only window not painted over. The muffled thump of heavy base came from inside. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Inside was like any other seedy bar in the world. The music was loud and generic. The air was smoky and thick. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust, and just as I was starting to look around, someone grabbed my arm. She was about 5'9", though I could tell from the way she clutched me, that she was wearing high heels that made her unsteady. She was blond, with dark eyes and light skin. Her luscious red lips broke into a smile revealing bright white teeth as she said "Hello, stranger." The smell of liquor came from her breath, and her eyes looked funny, as though she wasn't quite focussing. "My name's Tonya," she said in English, with a thick, but sexy Portuguese accent. "What's yours?" "Uh, I'm Tony," I lied. "Pleased to meet you Tony, would you like to buy me a drink?" she asked with practiced ease. I wondered how many times she had asked that question. Before I could think too hard about it, she pressed her body against mine as she ran her hands up and down my arm. Tonya was wearing a blue dress that almost looked like it was made of Mylar, judging from the way it shimmered. The dress left her shoulders bare and exposed plenty of cleavage. On the other end, it came down to just about 3 or 4 inches below her butt. The territory between those shoulders and that butt was curvy. As she guided me over to a table I got a better look around the room. It wasn't too big, but it looked rather empty. There were about 3 other customers, all men, sitting with other girls, as far away from each other as possible. Back by the door was a bench, where 5 more girls sat, looking bored. Apparently, as each customer came in, the next girl in line would grab him and steer him to a table. We reached ours, a corner booth, and I slid in, expecting her to slide in next to me. But instead, she stayed standing. "Do you want a drink? You look like you could use a drink. I know I'm thirsty," she said just audible over the plain-label disco beat. "Sure, I answered," and made a move to get up to go to the bar. But she stopped me. "I can get it," she said. "What do you want, Tony? How about a beer? Do you have some money?" I gave her an American $10, and she looked at it blankly. "Do you have anything more? Drinks are expensive here." I gave her another 10 and she took it, seemingly satisfied. While she disappeared from view, I took another look around the bar. Because it wasn't well lit, I couldn't get a good look at any of the other girls. And the other patrons gave me the impression they didn't want to be seen. I was starting to wonder if I was in the right place. For weeks, I had fantasized of meeting a girl with that "little something extra." I wanted to see if what one of the magazine writers said was true: that "only someone with a cock knows how to properly treat a cock". I wanted to know if it was true that cock did taste good, and if it indeed did feel good on the tongue. One of the writers talked about how "fucking an ass was better than fucking a pussy". And I wanted to know that too. As the third writer put it, "there's a perverse thrill knowing that while all those guys are eyeballing the hot chick you're dating, only you know that she's got a bigger dick than most of them." I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but I wanted to find out. I also had admitted to myself that I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to take it up my own ass. Everyone in the magazine talked about "seeing stars". I wanted to see stars too. Just thinking about all this again made me horny. When Tonya came back carrying my beer, I was revved up and ready to go. She sat down next to me, and her hand immediately went to my lap. If she was surprised to find me already hard, she didn't show it. "You want to go upstairs now?" she asked. I took a long swallow from the beer and nodded.
She led me up a narrow, to a narrow hallway, with about 20 doors off it. Each door was about 10 feet apart, and I presume, led into a small room like the one she took me into. Inside the 20-square foot room was a metal frame bed, a nightstand, a wooden chair, and a solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The bed had a gray fitted sheet and matching pillow. Not someplace anyone spent a lot of time in apparently.
Tonya wrapped her arms around my neck. While she did have nice long legs, and sexy stiletto heels, I still had about 2 inches on her. She closed in for a kiss, but pulled back at the last second, leaving me feeling needy, vulnerable, and stupid. When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me, with a clever, but shy smile. "I, um...need something, Tony." My mind raced as I wondered what it was she needed? Me? She had me. Condoms? I had some in my wallet. What was it she needed?
Then, I felt stupid again, as I realized. Money. I pulled a twenty from my pocket and she snatched it from my hand and had it squirreled away without taking her eyes from mine. Tonya sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me closer. She undid my button fly jeans and pulled my dick out.
I reached for a condom, but my hands were shaking too much for me to do much.
She saw that, laughed gently, and rolled the rubber on for me. This was the beginning of a new path for me. I knew that, and I knew I had a right to be nervous. All my fantasies were going to come true tonight. I was going to find out what it felt like to give a blowjob. I was going to find out what it was like to suck on a beautiful pair of tits as I took a cock up my ass. After years of feeling like something wasn't quite right with me and the world, I was going to find out if this was the solution.
I came back to reality as she took me in her mouth. She started with a quick tempo, and didn't change it. I had had blowjobs from hookers before, and I realized that's exactly what I was getting. There was no finesse, no attempt to make me enjoy it. I looked down at her bobbing head, and noticed that her dark roots were showing. She wasn't a real blonde. I wondered if she was even a real T-girl. I reached down to feel her tits and she at least obliged with that. She slid one of her shoulder straps off and worked the boob up, out of the dress. It looked like a boob at least. Sure as hell didn't feel like one. It was hard and almost perfectly round. As my fingers tried to caress it, I tried to find the nipple. It was higher than it should have been, almost on top, pointing straight up. I leaned over to get a better grip, and I found the scar. It was an implant, and it probably wasn't more than a month old. My touching the scar touched something in her. Tonya stopped her piston-like, mechanical blowjob, and pushed me back, gently but firmly. She stood up and looked at me with a practiced smile. "Thanks Tony, you were great." Her lipstick wasn't even smeared. Without another word, she walked out the door, pushing her tit back in her dress.
I stood there flabbergasted for a moment, trying to get my bearings. Here I was, expecting an epiphany of some sort, or at least a night of hot fucking, but all I got was a bad overpriced blowjob. Only the sound of a giggle from the door woke me back to reality. I was standing by the bed, with my now limp dick hanging out, covered in a rapidly drying out condom.
I pulled the rubber off, and flung it in a corner wastebasket. I didn't even want to think about how many others like it were in there already. I zipped up and went back downstairs. I wasn't ready to leave yet. I hadn't found what I came for yet. But since I didn't know where to look, or what exactly I was looking for, I sat down at an empty table. The bar had filled up some in the 5-10 minutes I was upstairs. Now there were 8 guys and 8 girls scattered across the room. 5 girls still sat at the doorway, and as I watched, the door opened, 2 guys came in, and 2 girls jumped up to escort them to a booth near me.
I got a better look at these girls, and it was pretty obvious I was in the right place if I was still looking for a shemale. Both girls had definite masculine features; the jutting brow, and strong jaw, the wide shoulders. As I watched them, Tonya came down the stairs behind me, and walked through the room. She passed me without a word and sat down by the door, to await her next client. She never looked at me, but I got a definite vibe from her: "Go away. Leave. Your time here is up." I supposed most guys who came here got their rocks off and left. And since I hadn't even had that, I wasn't going anywhere soon.
I went to the bar, and ordered a beer. Not surprisingly, it only cost me 3 American dollars. As I went back to my seat, I noticed one woman sitting by herself in a booth. She was in shadows, so I couldn't see what she looked like. She was just a dark silhouette, with a glow from a cigarette keeping her company.
She spoke as I passed, but I couldn't hear what she said. She gestured me to sit across from her at the table. "You are American?" she repeated, and leaned forward to be heard. Doing so revealed her face to me. She was older, dark, and striking. She was attractive, in a roundabout way. She wouldn't be my first choice of lovers, but then again, I've already told you about my first choice. This woman was different from Tonya in many ways. Physically, she was large. She had been a big guy once. Her skull was probably as big as mine was, whereas Tonya had been petite; Tonya could easily pass as a woman out on the streets, and probably did. The woman sitting across from me couldn't.
While Tonya was robotic, glazed, distant, this woman had confidence. She possessed an air of awareness; awareness of self and awareness of her surroundings. It was reassuring in a way, to know that I wasn't the only conscious person here.
Her clothing was a mix of Spanish flamenco dancer, and Stevie Nicks. Her hair was long and dark brown. The pours on her large nose were noticeable through the makeup. But still, there was an air of sensuality about her.
"You're not going to give the girls a hard time, are you?" Her accent was thick and exotic, and I couldn't place it. "Because if you are going to do that, I suggest you do that in another bar." The look in her eyes backed up the vague threat.
"No, I'm not going to cause any trouble. I'm just..." my words trailed off as I realized I didn't know what I was going to do.
"That Tonya, she treat you right?" she asked, and I shook my head no. "It don't surprise me. She don't treat no-one right, not even herself. So how come you stay? Most men get what they want and leave. The rest don't get what they want, but still leave." I could tell this woman was honestly curious. She wasn't just doing a business survey.
Something let loose my tongue; maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the sexual frustration, or maybe this strange woman had some uncanny power, and made strangers open up. I told her about the stories that turned me on, and the fantasies I concocted in my own head. I told her about looking at the boys and the girls in high school, and wanting them both, but not being attracted to either. I told her of wanting to find the one girl I could give a blowjob to every night. I talked about things I had never put into words before. I told her my real name, and how I had lied about it to Tonya because I was scared about the consequences of my visit. I told her about the time when I was 7 and my best friend and I went looking through his big sister's underwear drawer. I talked her ear off.
Through it all, her eyes indicated she was listening. Even when she swept her gaze around the room, I knew she was still paying attention to my rambling. "So this is what it was like to talk to a counselor," I thought.
When I finally ran out of words, she looked at me, nodded and said, "You go to bed tonight. Go back to your hotel room and sleep. But, I want you to come back here at 9 o'clock on the dot, tomorrow morning. I will have something for you."
Without another word, she pulled herself out of the booth, and walked off, to greet a well-dressed man entering the bar.
I was exhausted from spilling my guts, so I took her advice, and walked back to the hotel.
I was up with the sun, Saturday morning, asking if I really should bother meeting this strange person again, but knowing, deep inside nothing could keep me away. I showered and shaved and had a quick bite to eat in the hotel lobby before walking back to the bar.
I got there at 8:30, and kept walking. No sense in standing outside. I walked around the block a few times, just breaking a sweat in the early day heat and humidity. When 9 came, I was back outside the nameless saloon, wondering what was going to happen next.
The door opened and my strange, new friend leaned out. She didn't look so good. Where at night, in the smoky room, she could hide in shadow, and look exotic. Unfortunately, daylight was not her friend. I began to wonder if she was her surprise, because if that were the case, looking at her now, I'd have to pass.
She wore no makeup, and had a shadow wrapped around her chin and jaw line. Her long, chestnut hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and the effect only underscored her manly appearance. I cringed at the idea of being intimate with such a creature, and the idea popped up that maybe my fascination with special girls was fleeting.
But still I stepped toward the door when she gestured to me, like I was obligated. And I suppose I was. She sat through my sob story, so the least I could do was review her proposal.
Without a greeting, or any small talk, she pointed towards the ocean, "Go down this street until you come to the beach. At the end of this street, you will find a young woman named Marisa. She will be sitting beneath a blue and white umbrella. Marisa is a very beautiful woman, and she is expecting you." With that, she closed the door and was gone.
I've never gone in for games or cloak-and-dagger stuff, but still, I had nothing better to do, and started walking.
When I got through the parking lot, onto the edge of the beach, I noticed 2 things: there weren't very many people there at this time of day, but there were 2 blue and white umbrellas. Naturally.
I walked onto the sand between the 2 and looked to my right. Sitting there were 2 European tourists. Their fat, hairy bodies were bright white from the continental winter. To my left was an angel.
Her long dark, curly hair complimented her rich, brown skin. She wore a black string bikini, which only served to highlight the perfect proportions and curves of her body. This couldn't be Marisa. This couldn't be the girl I was supposed to meet. She was too beautiful to be anything but the lover of some aging tycoon. She was too perfect to be waiting for some sailor to pick her up.
But still, she turned toward me, and smiled a smile from heaven. Her beautiful lips parted and revealed sparkling white teeth. "Jon?" she asked, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the seashore. I nodded, dumbstruck, and she gestured me over. "I'm Marisa. Please, sit down."
Her voice was musical, her demeanor charming. I was simply captivated. Marisa radiated charm, and poise and intelligence. If there was such a thing as the perfect human being, I just met her. Her! I couldn't believe that this vision before me was anything less than a natural woman. There was just no way! And right then I decided that no matter what was between her legs, I could sit here all day and talk to her.
Marisa was confident and outgoing, laughing sweetly at my nervous jokes, and generally setting me at ease in very short course. She asked me what it was like to grow up in the Rocky Mountains, yet spend my adult life on the ocean, and was genuinely interested in what I had to say.
She told me about her life in Brazil, growing up in an upper middle class family, having the opportunity to learn English, and travel to the U.S. At age 15, Marisa announced to her family that she didn't want to be a boy any longer. (Aha! So, the truth surfaces, I thought.) Her father was very supportive, but her mother freaked out, and left, taking Marisa's 2 younger brothers.
She told me how her father paid for the hormones, and the implants and the electrolysis, and the nose job, but how sad she was that they had no contact with her mother. Through the conversation, I learned that Marisa was 19, had had 4 lovers, (though her father only knew of 2), and had no plans for "bottom" surgery, as she put it.
"I like my penis. I just never liked being a man," she said. I was trying to discreetly catch a glimpse of her crotch. I knew I shouldn't, but the talk of sex had fired me up again.
Maybe she noticed and didn't let on, or maybe she didn't. But it was soon after that she suggested we get something to eat. I glanced at my watch, shocked to find that 2 hours had passed since I first sat down with her.
"Can we stop by your room?" she asked. "I need to clean myself up before we go anywhere." I hailed a cab, and tried my best to impress by opening the door for her.
Once we were in my room. She asked if she could shower before we left for lunch. When I said yes, she kissed me softly on the lips and looked at me with those deep, dark eyes. "You're a sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you get me a glass of water?" She had pulled on shorts and a T-shirt when we left the shore, and was rummaging through her canvas beach bag. This Marisa woman was beautiful. I'd have to buy a beer for...I didn't even know her name! The strange looking woman who sat calmly through my rant, and then arranged my meeting this heavenly body, and I didn't even take the time to find out who she was!
It was almost like she was reading my mind. Marisa asked "So, did you have fun at the bar last night?" She paused to swallow a pill and wash it down with the water. "Who did you meet?"
"I was grabbed by Tonya, and it wasn't a...um...very good experience."
"Why not?" Marisa asked with a quizzical smile.
"Tonya wasn't very sexy and she was kind of...distant." I thought about telling Marisa about what I was hoping to get last night, but I still couldn't bring myself to talk that way in front of a lady. Marisa had admitted to still having a penis, but it just didn't seem natural to talk about blowjobs and butt fucking in front of her.
"Don't be so hard on Tonya," Marisa said pulling off her T-shirt and walking into the bathroom. She left the door open and raised her voice so she could be heard over the water. "Tonya is a very, very sweet girl. She has a wonderful heart, but she can't show it, because she keeps getting hurt by customers.
"Guys come in, proclaim their love for her, and then disappear, after she's made plans to leave with them. They never follow through. So, she's adopted a robot attitude toward it all."
"Well, she's not very pretty. Couldn't she get a better ummm..." I let the sentence slide. There was no way I was going to come out of this conversation in good shape.
"Better breast implants? She's doing the best she can with what she has. My father offered to pay for it, but she refused. And not everyone can be beautiful, you know." The shower shut off, as if to emphasize the point.
"Tonya is a beautiful soul," Marisa said from the bathroom. I sat nervously on the edge of the bed, knowing I had probably blown my chances. I could hear the shower curtain slide on the rod, as Marisa got out. She continued as she dried herself off behind the door, "And I can say that, having been her lover." My heart sank as I realized I had really done it this time. Feeling so confident around Marisa, I didn't stop to think what allegiances she had. And I had assumed that she and I were going to be together, when in all likelihood, we were probably set up just so I could learn a few life lessons. But how could I be blamed? Marisa was charming. She was disarming. How could anyone not feel a bond to this beautiful woman? How could someone be less than honest and completely open with her? The bathroom door swung open, and there she stood, wrapped only in a white, cotton towel. Her dark hair pulled back. Her legs glistening. The towel reached just over the tops of her breasts to just under her crotch. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible. "But that was months ago, and it's history," she said. "Wha...what's history?" I asked, dumbfounded again. She sashayed over to where I sat, and stood inches in front of me. "Me and Tonya. I've got someone new in my life now. And as it turns out, he and I may be a good match." She leaned down and kissed me. Her tongue was forceful, yet gentle, as it bullied its way into my mouth. I wasn't used to women being such aggressive kissers, but I liked it. Marisa held my head with her hands as she ravaged me with her kiss. She pulled back an inch and looked into my eyes. "You're mine." And I knew it was true. She shifted her body and released the towel to the floor. Her hands pulled me into her breasts, running her fingers through her hair, as I nibbled at her nipples. Her breasts were perfect; rounded, yet with a bit of sag. They felt real as I pressed up against them. I pushed back gently, only to kiss my way down her belly. She released me from her tits, knowing where I was going. I felt it hit the bottom of my chin before I saw it. Her cock. It was still growing, but already it was jutting out. It was long and not too thick, but not what I'd call thin. Her cock had the definitive mushroom cap head and a single vein was visible running back along the length. My mouth went dry as I wrapped my hand around the base. It was hot to the touch, and hard, yet, still had some give to it. I kissed the head, and heard a soft sigh escape her lips. That noise was a reward and an encouragement. I was nervous, but I knew she would be gentle with me. I kissed the head again, and again, the second time parting my lips to take some inside. I had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my imagination, drawing on the experience of what had been done to me in the back seat of my car in high school; in a cheap hotel in Sydney, and countless other times. I withdrew and changed my attack, kissing along the shaft towards her. They were big wet, sloppy kisses that covered as much of her cock as I could. With my free hand, I caressed her hip, and slid around to her ass, pulling her closer to me. She had no pubic hair, and I didn't stop kissing when I got there. I pushed her hard cock up, to kiss the underside, and let my tongue dart out to touch her balls. My right hand was kneading her ass cheek, my left holding her steady, as I could feel her start to sway.
I broke off my attack and guided her onto the bed. She looked at me through half closed eyes and gave a lazy grin. As she lay on her back, and again took her head in my mouth, swishing my tongue around it. I had never been more ready for this moment. Slowly I took more of her cock in my mouth, and then backed off. Again, more inside, going further each time, before slowly backing away. It was only through this slow, sensuous process that I realized I was deep throating her, and I liked it. I was afraid the gag reflex would choke me, but it wasn't happening. I looked up, to see her gazing down at me.
This beautiful woman, looked at me, with my lips wrapped around cock, and she smiled, and the world lit up. "You're wearing too much clothing," she whispered, and it was true. I was still fully dressed.
I pulled myself off of her, and tore off my clothes as quickly as I could, pausing only to lean down and kiss her, kiss her nipples and lick her penis again. She watched with interest, rubbing her tits and stroking herself, as I stripped down, and when I jumped back into bed, she whispered "I wanna suck you, while you suck me."
We maneuvered so we were lying side by side, 69-style. I kissed her thighs before moving back to her cock. Her skin was so soft, and creamy, had the allure of that lovely rod not been hovering over me, I'd have been happy just with the thighs.
She watched me for a few moments, her hand slowly stroking me. And when she took me in her mouth, I had to stop what I was doing. It was previous obvious that my first attempt at a blowjob was clumsy once I felt her lips and her tongue working together. It was more than just the end of a dry spell; she was damn good. She'd somehow get my dick underneath her tongue, and then would sweep back and forth, from one side to the other.
She paused and took me out, looking down the bed at me. "Something the matter?" she asked. I was just lying there, gasping for air, her own cock going ignored in my hand. "Just follow my lead," she whispered and kissed me up and down.
I did follow her lead, and for what had to have been an hour, I followed her up and down, in a rhythmic cocksucking session that took us both to the edge of orgasm, and gently back down again. Time and time again, I thought I was going to explode, in every sense of the word, only to find myself falling gently back to earth, like a feather. And I think I kept up my side of the bargain too, as I could feel her thigh muscles seize and relax beneath my cheek.
Once she had guided us both back to normal breathing levels, she pulled back from me, maneuvered her way around the bed, so we were face to face. We kissed tenderly, (mostly because my lips and tongue were fatigued.) She whispered in my ear something I had only dreamed of hearing:
"I wanna fuck you."
My heart quickened, and my breath caught in my throat again. Marisa drew back, gazed into my eyes and spoke again.
"Can I fuck you?"
I heard my answer like it was someone else's voice, like it was distant.
"I want you inside me." She giggled and told me to lay on my stomach, legs spread as wide as they'd go. She jumped off the bed and dove for her beach bag, rustling through it looking for something. My face was buried in the pillow. I was trying to stave off hyperventilating, and I didn't see what she got. But I felt her climb back onto the bed. One hand ran softly across my ass, making one pass across from left to right, and then another pass, back again. On the third pass, she stopped, and her fingers gently spread my cheeks apart. I felt something moist and cold touch my sphincter, and I flinched. "Sorry," she giggled, "I should have warmed it up first." Her finger started working the gel around. The cold sensation wasn't pleasant, and I tensed up. At least I did until she lay down on top of me, and kissed the back of my neck. I could feel her tits pressing against my back, and her cock rubbing against my inner thighs. The hyperventilating started again, until she cooed in my ear. She did it until she felt my breathing grow steady, and my muscles relax. She positioned herself between my legs, and pressed her dick against my hole. I couldn't believe it: I was going to lose my cherry! My cock started to grow again beneath me and I raised myself to her to give myself some room, and to bring the moment closer. I had dreamed of this: a dick inside me, tits rocking on my back, and hand stroking me, and cries of passion. When she first entered me, I had a very rude awakening. It hurt. It hurt like a motherfucker, and I screamed into the pillow. I could tell she hadn't even got the head in, and there was no way it would work. All the lubricant in the world wasn't going to make her drive shaft fit through my tailpipe. Marisa, as sensitive as ever, noticed the trouble and pulled back. I could almost hear her frustration over my whimpers. Damn! I wanted it! I really wanted it. She wanted it! What more could two people ask for? Marisa is a smart girl. She's a sensative girl, and she's an experienced girl. She crawled up and lay down next to me. "Are you alright, poor baby?" "Christ!" was all I could manage by way of response. "Damn, that hurt!" I rolled over onto my back and wiped the tears from my eyes. Once my breath came back, and the pain subsided, I turned to her. "I'm sorry, darling. I wanted it. I really did. But, I guess..." Her concern turned to a slightly evil smile. "We're not done yet." She again climbed between my legs. She lay on top of me and kissed me deeply. "Want to try again? It'll be better this time. I promise." She ground her crotch into mine, rekindling my lust. Our 2 cocks, hers covered in lube, slid off and on each other. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out now," she breathed in my ear, "I'm gonna fuck your boypussy." I knew it was true. On my back, I found that my legs went further apart. She pulled herself back and used one hand to guide her dick back to my hole. She was right, it was easier this time. It still hurt as she entered, but not nearly as bad. She used quite a bit of pressure to get the head past my ring, and then, once it popped in, she hestitated. She leaned down, dragged her tongue across my lips, and raised her head with a smug smile. This beautiful, beautiful woman, this lovely shemale had just the tip of her 7-inch rod inside me. I could feel my body adjusting, spreading to take it all. She could feel it too, and gently started pushing the rest of herself in. Just beyond her dangling tits, I could see my own cock straining at the roots. It rubbed against her midsection, and she swayed back and forth, both of us enjoying the sensation. Marisa would push a bit, and then wait, waiting for me to adjust. Once she felt me accept her, she'd repeat the process. Before I knew it, she was all the way in. I could feel it throbbing inside me, like a living thing. I had never felt so alive myself. We waited like that for a while, both of us just enjoying the feeling of a new experience. For me, it was my first fuck. For her, come to find out later, I was her first virgin. As we kissed, she started thrusting, ever so slightly. That was when the colors started to pop behind my eyes. I could feel every inch of her sliding against my insides, slippery sliding one way and then the other. In. Out. Faster with each successive stroke. I could feel her head just hint at popping out, then it was ram back in, faster than she pulled out. That very same head would plunge back, deep inside me, setting nerves alive. My legs were in the air. I began to thrust up toward her, to amplify her fuck. My breathing became ragged. Through half closed eyes I watched her tits sway, her head tilted up to the ceiling, her own eyes closed. With each successive thrust....I...felt....myself....grow....closer....to something...I couldn't recognize. Before I knew it, my hand snuck between us, and started stroking my own cock. Marisa's beautiful dick pistoning in and out of me. I wrapped my legs around her, and pulled her closer with my free arm.
I felt the bolt race through my body. It started at my feet, shot up my legs, through my groin, up my belly, across my chest and down my arms, and then back to the heart again. There, the bolt split. Half went to my brain, the other half went south. It was what I was growing toward, and it hit me like nothing else ever had.
I shot my wad, and felt the hot, sticky stuff plaster my chest. It hit her tits and some even slipped through to land on my own neck. My back arched, and I cried out. For just a millisecond, I had no idea who I was, where I was, or even what I was doing. And as that millisecond ended, something else happened.
Marisa cried out, her own back arching, and I felt a warmth inside me like I had never known.
I also felt an exhaustion like nothing else. She felt it too, and collapse on top of me, neither of us having enough energy to do more than light butterfly kisses.
Before I fell asleep, I took stock. My chest was covered in a quickly cooling, quickly drying mess. My tongue was sore. My legs ached. I was lying beneath someone who had and X and a Y chromosome like me. And I had a hard dick up my ass. Things couldn't possibly be any better than this.