Jo, T-Girl Goddess! Ch. 02

Alan kept his fingers buried inside her as he slowly ran his tongue up the length of her girldick, starting at the base.

She caught his dilated gaze again before he lowered his head and took her into his mouth.

He was seriously enjoying giving her head!

"That's deep enough for a start," she warned and cupping his ears to stop him as he made as if to deep throat her. "Wrap your hand around the base so that you don't take me too deeply."

She wasn't into men vomiting over her. Even if she was, if wouldn't be in her near pristine flat.

Alan obediently slipped his hand around the base of Jo's girldick and went straight back to heading it.

"You're very good for novice, though." She stroked away a lock of dark brown hair that had fallen across his forehead and he looked up and smiled up at her with his eyes. "In a couple of months you will be sucking girldick like a pro."

Some men had a problem synchronizing the movements of their own bodies.

Alan thankfully wasn't one of them.

As he kept slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of Jo's ass as he gave her head, he soon found a rhythm that had her groaning and clutching the cushions.

When she lifted her hips off the chair and started to frantically fuck his mouth, he kept his hand on the base of her girldick to limit the depth of penetration as she'd instructed, but he relaxed and let her have her way.

Seconds later, he got his promised first taste of cum and seem to like it very much, swallowing what he managed to catch and scooping up stray drops with his fingers and licking them off enthusiastically.

"Did I say a couple of months?" Jo asked lifting her head to smile at him. "You're going to make an excellent girldick sucker in less than a week at this rate."

Alan flushed with pleasure at her compliment as he stood up and took off his shirt and glasses.

"Now, let me have a look at you," Jo sat up and hauled him closer.

Even before she pulled his cock through the fly of his boxers, she was groaning inwardly with disappointment.

She had hoped that he would be one of those nerdy, lanky men with thick glasses and thick cocks to their knees.

Having her ass crammed to overflowing with hard cock later would have been a nice bonus.

Oh well, she thought as she took him into her mouth, at least I'll pluck his ass cherry.

"Fuck! You're good," Alan gasped as she expertly slid his cock between her lips and swallowed the tip into her throat.

Jo didn't stop to thank him for the compliment.

She was already hard thinking about his little virgin asshole.

There was no time to waste on pleasantries.

***

Jo quickly finished off Alan with her fist. Cum tasted different when it came from sexy men.

Well, it did to her.

"Now for my little virgin, are you ready for a little girldick?"

"I've tried to imagine what anal sex would feel like." Alan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his aristocratic-looking nose and looked nervous.

Truthfully, Alan, it's a bit like having a shit."

"You'll be fine," Jo promised. "Just turn around and give me that ass!"

He obeyed, tilting himself up without having to be told.

If she'd had the time, she would have shaved around his butthole, but she couldn't be bothered to pause or waste one of the expensive disposable razors she used to shave her armpits on the task.

She would have worn a condom anyway, but it was necessary to slip one on now to avoid a nasty cut by one of the long hairs.

Alan bucked as if impatient as she rolled the protection on and rubbed some lube over it.

"Patience!"

She gave him a sharp slap across his pale buttocks and a red welt instantly marred their snowy whiteness.

The contrast was such a turn on she was almost tempted to continue until she'd reddened the entire surface of both cheeks.

Instead, she resisted and carefully aimed her girldick at his aperture, holding the spare tufts of hair out of the way.

Emmanuel had once told her that the pencil-shaped tip of her girldick was the perfect shape for initiating a virgin.

He was right.

It slipped easily into Alan's butthole along with a good few inches of shaft before it got stuck.

"Relax for me," Jo instructed as she held herself still and waited until he obeyed her request before rotating her hips and getting a further half an inch inside him.

She was glad that she had come earlier and taken the edge off.

She was now at leisure to enjoy Alan's slow initiation into the ass-fucking community.

He wasn't as tight as he was nervous, repeatedly clenching his asshole and impeding Jo's progress.

She didn't want to tear anything and put him off because she was rather enjoying his moans and groans, and was already contemplating another go at his tight ass before she made him breakfast and sent him on his merry way in the morning.

She had decided against letting him fuck her, though.

Later tomorrow, after a long soak surrounded by scented candles and her favourite music, she would get into bed with Big Willy III, her favourite dildo.

It was a monster and aptly named after the owner of The Pink Panther, Emmanuel Foxton, who had given her first taste of big cock, and had hooked her for life.

He had fucked around plenty, but for a while Jo and her best friend Ricki had been his 'faves'. Then he'd been tamed by Natalie, a pretty transgender woman, sixteen months younger than Jo and his every fantasy come true, and was now totally committed to her.

There were times when Jo felt the need to be filled as deeply and as satisfyingly as she'd been filled by Emmanuel, but the nearest she got now was Big Willy III.

Going to The Pink Panther as she'd done tonight for the first time in a while always brought back memories of those wild months with the bar owner.

Before she'd noticed Alan, she'd been salivating over Emmanuel on the sly, watching his big hands with their long, meaty fingers and the bulge in his tailored trousers that barely hinted at the size he would grow to when aroused.

She didn't regret a minute spent in his huge, custom-made bed.

He'd been only her second lover and looking back, she sometimes shuddered convulsively when she thought of the monumental risk she'd taken by letting him anywhere near her near-virgin butthole.

Thankfully, Emmanuel had proven to be not only a patient, skilful lover, he had demonstrated a talent for gaining entry into the tightest of holes.

If Alan's cock had been a smidgen larger, Jo might have closed her eyes and imagined that he was Emmanuel.

But, it would be too wide a gap for her imagination to leap.

The only thing that could mitigate the hunger that had been slowly building inside her all week was Big Willy III.

"Do you want me to stop?" Jo asked Alan, dismissing thoughts of the dildo and focusing on the welt across the man's small pale ass cheeks, which like his legs didn't appear to have ever seen the sun.

"No!" Alan quickly protested, as Jo had known he would.

"Then relax and let me fuck you properly," she ordered. "Or do you want me to ram my girldick down your throat and give you another mouthful of cum?"

"You're so big, I'm a little worried," Alan explained.

"If you relax and let me handle this, I'll have the full length inside you in minutes." Jo reached for the tube of lubricant and applied several dollops both to the portion of condom outside Alan and onto his tightly-clenching butthole. "Now relax and let me slide right up inside you like a greased pole."

Spreading her legs she pressed inwards relentlessly, ignoring his protesting muscles and with several shimmies of her hips she was buried to the hilt.

"Fuck! Oh fuck!" Alan moaned as she withdrew and quickly slid back into him.

"I'm sure you thought you'd be fucking my ass when you got here tonight." Jo laughed with wicked delight as she hammered him with half a dozen quick thrusts. "If you'd asked the regulars at the bar, they would have warned you not to mess with a chick with a dick."

More than one guy at the bar had called Jo 'a freak' because she dressed as a woman but refused to always throw her legs up or lay facedown with her face squashed into a bed or sofa while they plundered her ass.

There were men, like Emmanuel, with whom Jo acted the total woman. She could never fuck him, even if he begged her to. He was just too big and too male.

But there were others who brought out another side of her character and it often surprised them.

"I like you fucking my tight ass," Alan groaned and tilted himself higher. "It's probably going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but right now it feels good."

"You'll be as good as new," she promised, pressing her chest against his back and wrapping one arm around him and reaching for his cock with the other. "I was careful to lube you properly. You'll be able to sit down with only the smallest amount of discomfort to remind you of me fucking your tight ass tonight."

The last words sent him into a frenzy.

When he'd uttered similar words moments ago, they had been said with a certain relish and Jo had sensed that he'd found them utterly erotic.

Less than a minute later, he was shooting his load, as Jo had anticipated.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked, pulling herself free, still hard as a rock.

"Sorry, I can't stay," he said, getting to his feet and beginning to gather his things hurriedly. "I have to be at work at five in the morning."

"No problem." Jo knew firsthand that shifts at television studios often began ridiculously early. "Although it will be a shame not to have another go at your tight ass before you leave."

Alan flushed but didn't answer as he fumbled for his glasses.

Something in his manner had abruptly changed.

He seemed more nervous than before and eager to be on his way.

Did he think that she was about to declare her undying love or ask him to marry her since she'd deflowered him?

"Let me call you a cab," she said briskly.

"It's okay." He stuffed his socks into one of his pockets and pushed his bare feet into his shoes. "I'll get a taxi from outside the Tube station."

"Okay."

The next minute, he'd left, shirttails hanging over the waist of his trousers, tie askew.

Eh?

Jo stared at the door as if it could somehow give her a clue to his bizarre behaviour and swift departure.

She wasn't bothered that he'd left; some men had to be literally pushed out the door.

But what the fuck?

***

After Alan had left without so much as a backward glance, Jo had decided that she needed that luxurious bath she'd promised herself and to spend some time contemplating her life.

Her sex life had become a series of disappointing one-night fucks.

She'd been too busy touring with Ebonée to have a relationship, but if she continued at this rate, she'd end up old and alone with a knackered asshole as the only thing left to show that she'd once been a highly-sought after, desirable woman.

She was missing her friend Ricki desperately.

Although Norman had practically kept her a prisoner, she and Jo had still managed to have fun when he had allowed her to visit Jo bi-monthly.

Jo's return visits to Ricki hadn't been as enjoyable because they had been forced to stay at home, but they'd still had some fun. Thankfully Norman had never stuck around the penthouse, telling them that they nattered like 'old biddies'. If not for the bodyguard Norman had assigned to Ricki, they would have sneaked out and gone partying as they always did when Ricki visited Jo.

Ricki's tidiness, which bordered on the obsessive, had alerted her to the fact the Norman had brought someone over in her absence. Not content with sleeping with Ricki's man, the woman had used one of Ricki's favourite scents but had failed to observe the precise positioning of the bottle before she'd picked it up.

The misaligned perfume bottle had caught Ricki's eye the minute she'd walked into the room.

She had secretly set up cameras all over and had caught Norman with a transgender blonde.

Jo knew that it had hurt Ricki on so many levels.

He had insisted that his attraction to her was a complete anomaly, that her beauty and femininity had drawn him to her against his will.

Ricki had had to stay at home and watch him parade one blonde after the other on his arm at film premieres and other celebrity events. When she'd questioned why blondes, he'd told her that a man in his position was expected to have a bimbo or two on his arm at these events.

She and Norman had enjoyed the most luxurious takeaways in London, but had never been to a high-end restaurant for a romantic meal together. He had claimed that the paparazzi were everywhere and always hounding him. If they snapped a photo of him and Ricki together, they would soon discover who she was.

Jo had persuaded Ricki when she'd had confided her fears that it wasn't because she was a black woman that Norman kept her hidden away. Jo had genuinely believed that Norman was more desperate to hide his sexuality than anything else and still did.

Strangely, Ricki had never been jealous of Norman's female lovers. She'd been convinced that she was special and that he would never be attracted to another transgender woman.

The fact that he had not only slept with one but had done practically all the things he' hadn't allowed Ricki to do, with a blue-eyed blonde, had tipped Ricki over the edge.

She had wanted to hurt Norman more than she'd wanted the quarter of a million pounds she'd received for selling a copy of the tape to tabloid magazine Got Ya!

But the money had allowed her to hightail it out of the UK and run to Barbados and the waiting arms of Ian McIntosh, her first lover.

She and Ricki had both held their breaths, expecting fireworks from Norman, but the matter had ended with all the explosive power of a damp squid.

Jo had played her part to perfection, convincing Norman that she had no idea of Ricki's whereabouts, calling his home several times in the first week of her friend's departure, crying into her mobile when she told him that she was worried sick because Ricki wasn't answering her calls.

Norman had brushed her off each time, telling her that Ricki was probably playing one of her stupid games and would be back soon.

Jo had then decided to turn things up a notch, becoming stroppy and threatening to send the police around to Norman's house if he didn't put Ricki on the phone.

The threat had worked a charm.

Norman had finally admitted that Ricki had left him and he didn't have a clue of her location.

Jo had breathed a sigh of relief, sure that she'd done enough to stop him from coming after her in retaliation, but she still hadn't rested easy.

The magazine had failed to break the story, as promised.

After two weeks, unable to bear the suspense, Jo had hacked into Norman's computer and discovered that the magazine was as unscrupulous as she and Ricki had feared.

But not as ruthless as they could have been--they had kept Ricki's name completely out of their dealings with Norman.

They'd anonymously sent him a snippet of the footage, claiming that they had hacked into his high-security system and watched him for weeks. They'd said that most of it was boring: Norman fucking some black tranny. They'd said similar stories had been done and that would bore their readers to death. On the other hand, the footage of him being fucked by the busty blonde tranny would be just the ticket. They'd promised to destroy the footage if Norman paid half a million pounds into the Swiss bank account they'd supplied. If he didn't comply, they'd threatened to sell it to the highest bidder.

Norman and the sender had exchanged emails back and forth, Norman wanting some guarantee that this would be their first and final demand. They had assured him that it would be, although that guarantee wouldn't have been worth the paper it was on, if printed.

Norman had paid the money and several thousands more to a new company to upgrade his perfectly good security system.

Jo believed that the sender of the mail had deliberately used the derogatory language to throw any suspicion off Ricki.

So, incredibly, Norman had no idea that she had been the one to tape him. He believed that she'd taken the chance to run, as she'd threatened to do for years, when he'd foolishly left her unguarded while he was out of the country.

He'd always taunted if she ever left him he would search the UK until he found her, drag her back by her hair and beat her to a pulp.

That threat had paralyzed Ricki for years, but it turned out to be issued by a toothless rather than a rabid dog. Jo had found no trace of him hiring anyone to find Ricki.

But, still cautious, Ricki was keeping her head down and taking no chances.

And even though Jo had been confident that she'd done enough to convince Norman that she was as desperate as he was to discover Ricki's whereabouts, she had still walked around for months, expecting to feel some huge, calloused hand clamp itself on her shoulder and to be bundled into a waiting car with heavily-tinted windows the next minute, and find herself between two hulking thugs who would then take her to Norman.

It had been harder to hack into the magazine's server, but when Jo had finally breached their firewall, she'd found no trace of the file.

She knew that it didn't mean the magazine had kept their end of the bargain--they may have kept the original pen drive--but she had been able to feel more at ease about Ricki's safety.

And her own.

If the magazine owners had kept the footage and were foolhardy enough to keep it on a storage medium that could become easily corrupted without creating a backup...all the better.

***

The next evening Jo sat at the bar, her long bare legs scandalously crossed, chatting to Emmanuel as he helped the suddenly overstretched barmen serve demanding customers trying to get in last orders before the end of the happy hour.

At forty-seven, Emmanuel still looked good enough to eat. He had developed a slight paunch now that he didn't work out as hard or as regularly as he'd done when Jo had first met him, but according to Natalie, his cock was still as lethal as ever.

Jo looked up to him as something of a father figure now.

He'd advised her on savings and investments almost from the time they'd met ten years ago, though she'd rarely taken his advice, wanting to enjoy the money she earned rather than stash it away for some rainy day that might never come.

He had been the one to give her the deposit when developers working in partnership with the government had converted an old primary school into six luxury flats for first-time buyers.

Jo hadn't particularly wanted to be burdened with a mortgage at twenty-three, but she could have hardly refused when Emmanuel had not only paid the 10% deposit but told her that he would help if she couldn't meet her monthly mortgage repayments.

Since Jo had been paying a monthly rent of an amount equal to the mortgage at the time, it would have been utter lunacy for her to turn down his offer.

Though he hadn't insisted on knowing the full facts, Emmanuel had 'laundered' the £50,000 which Ricki had gifted to her before flying off to Barbados to be with her first love.

Knowing how easily it could all slip through her fingers, Jo had taken his advice and used half of it to pay off a good chunk of her flexible mortgage and reduce her monthly repayments.

She'd invested £5,000 in the stocks and shares that Emmanuel had recommended, transferred another five to her depleted savings account and paid off the full balance of the credit card on which she had been blithely paying the minimum each month and racking up a ton of interest. The balance owed on the card had consistently hovered close to the £10,000 limit though she had cut the card up well over two years prior.