Last Summer

"Just do it," she groaned. "You're such a tease."

I shrugged, and pushed my jeans down my legs until I could step out of them. This pair of knickers was not sexy, even at the best of times, and now it had an ugly bulge in front, and I was uncomfortably aware that the crotch was again soaked through from my arousal.

The humour in her eyes gave way to confusion as I stood before her, fighting shame and fear. Before I could change my mind, I tugged my knickers down over my hips and let them fall to the floor.

Exulting in its new freedom, my cock surged to its full, erect length, hard and thick. Not-Straight Girl stared at it wide-eyed, her lips parted. "Why," she asked eventually, "does a white girl have a black man's cock?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said.

"Is it real?"

"You can examine it if you like."

That brought a smile to her lips. She slid down onto her knees in front of me, and touched it lightly with her fingertips. I sighed in pleasure, thrusting gently against them. Her touch was incredible, so much more exciting than my own fingers had been.

"Down, girl," she said, laughing, but continued her delicate exploration of the shaft and around the thick head. "You certainly put my boyfriend to shame."

Oh damn, I thought. She is straight. "Boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend. Cheating bastard ex-boyfriend. I wish he could see me now."

"I thought you were gay."

"I don't do labels," she said, with a flicker of irritation. "Which is good for you, I guess, because I've no idea what you are."

Without warning, she wrapped one hand around my shaft and took the head into her mouth. I can't describe how good that feels, or how amazing it looks, to have a beautiful girl on her knees in front of you, her mouth wrapped in loving worship about your sensitive cock. I felt at once completely in her power, and utterly in command.

Amazing though it was, I wanted to push deeper, to penetrate further into her mouth and throat. No doubt she understood this desire, for she put one hand against my belly to hold me at a distance, while the other stroked the full length of my shaft.

I coiled my fingers through her hair and pulled gently, encouraging her to take me deeper, and she certainly tried, but mostly she used her lips and tongue with expert skill.

"I'm going to come," I warned her as the tension reached critical levels.

She pulled away and swiftly pulled off her black roll-neck and bra, revealing small but perfect breasts with hard nipples. "Come for me, baby," she said, and returned to her worship of my throbbing cock, licking the precum from the tip before diving down around the head and shaft, taking me deeper still.

I grabbed my breasts, crushing them, squeezing my nipples to the point of pain, while watching her head bobbing up and down, devouring my length, until I cried out as my climax took me, and semen erupted into her mouth.

She tried to swallow, but there was too much, too quickly, flooding her mouth. My cum poured out of her lips around my shaft, covering her chin and dripping down onto her chest between her breasts.

Laughing suddenly, she pulled away from me. "For someone with no balls," she said, wiping the cum from her chin with one finger only to rub it off against her breasts, "you sure as hell come a lot."

"Sorry," I said, smiling.

"Don't be sorry. Get down here and lick my breasts clean."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said.

*

Her name is Elin, a local girl but of Swedish descent. In bare feet, my eyes are level with her nose, and I'm above average height. Perhaps because it's so rare, I have always had a thing for girls taller than me. I once dated a basketball player. The sex was hot, but she was just using me for sex and the relationship was a disaster. A short disaster.

Elin is a music teacher. She teaches piano at a school in the city centre, not far from the museum. After dumping her 'cheating bastard ex-boyfriend' at the weekend, she had moved back home to her parents' place, which is not too far from my place -- and that is how we came to meet. Call it chance, call it fate, whatever, but I've always felt our meeting was bound up somehow with my own magical transformation.

*

At my suggestion, we moved into the bedroom. She stretched out seductively on the bed with her eyes closed, and I crawled on top of her, up along her legs. I pressed my mouth to her belly, kissing her, licking my cum from her. If you had asked me only the day before if I would ever lick cum from a girl's belly, I would have called you a sick pervert. But this wasn't man-cum, it was my very own girl-cum, which made it just weird rather than disgusting.

And it was Elin's belly, and Elin's chest, and Elin's small but perfect breasts that my mouth was kissing and licking and sucking, and before too long the villain that had made the mess was fully erect again, ready to undo all my hard work with more of its own hard work. I denied it though, and concentrated on Elin's shoulder and neck, her ear, her cheek, her chin, finally her lips.

"I don't have a condom," I whispered.

"You don't have balls either," she whispered back. "But if you get me pregnant, you'd better be prepared to marry me."

I paused. "Is that a proposal?"

She laughed, and opened her eyes at last. "It's a threat. Shut up and fuck me."

*

"Fuck me," she said again a month later as we studied the indicator on the home pregnancy test kit. Positive. Pregnant. And since Elin hadn't been with anyone but me since her last period, we were fairly certain who the... father was.

I dropped to my knees (a position I adopt often for her) and put my hands on her belly, trying to sense the life growing in her womb -- though of course that wasn't possible.

She scowled down at me, mock-serious. "You knocked me up, bitch. What are you going to do about it?"

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

*

"Shut up and fuck me," she said, spreading her legs wide in invitation, and I positioned myself between them, but suddenly I was overcome by a wave of dysphoria, stronger than any yet. This was not the way to make love to a woman. This obsession with cock and cum was male in the extreme, and the picture in my head of me fucking Elin with my cock screamed male penetration. The idea that I was becoming a man horrified me, sent me reeling away from her in a panic.

I hid my face in my hands, unable to look at her, ashamed of my corrupted nature. Having a penis was something I could live with; thinking like a man... I could not.

"Hey," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

I tried to explain my anxiety to her, though I wasn't very coherent. Elin laughed gently. "Silly creature," she said. "The desire to penetrate doesn't make you a man. If I dress like a man and wear a strap-on, I am no less of a woman for doing so."

She kissed me and pulled me back down onto the bed with her. "Make love to me with your mouth and fingers. Make love to me the way a woman makes love to a woman. If you cannot do that, then maybe there will be cause for concern."

She curled her fingers round my hard length and added, "Women make better lovers, but there's no substitute for cock. So make love to me however you wish, but please fuck me with that bad boy."

I think that was the moment I knew for sure that I was in love with her, not merely in lust. With a growl of playful hunger, I dived down to capture a nipple between my teeth, and sucked it harshly, my tongue whispering across the tip. Elin writhed beneath me, whimpering, but she endured the erotic torture without complaint.

Turning my attention to the other breast, I kissed a path around the nipple and away, down to her navel, exploring the hollow with my tongue for a moment. I spread her legs wide and lay between them, kissing her inner thighs and writing words of love with my tongue. I wanted to tease her, but I also wanted to taste her. The raw, intoxicating scent of her was making me dizzy with hunger.

Elin keeps her hair trimmed and neat, and I always enjoy brushing it with my nose, breathing in the wonderful fragrance of her arousal, delaying for as long as I can that ultimate intimacy of lips against lips, tongue against clit, and the flow of sweet nectar.

I made love to her with my mouth, wrote poetry with cursive script and curlicues aplenty. She twined her fingers through my hair and held me tight, demanding verse after verse. Her hips danced to the rhythm of my tongue, and her cries rhymed with pleasure, and the poet was rewarded with copious wine of most excellent vintage.

Elin ordered me onto my back, and she straddled me, her lips pressed against my shaft. She thrust with her hips so that her clit slid along my length, and back, and continued the motion, pleasuring herself with my cock without any penetration. Reaching up, I grabbed her breasts and pinched her nipples firmly.

The expression in her sea-blue eyes was intense. Fierce. "I want you in me," she said, leaning forward to position the head of my cock at her entrance.

She was very wet, but penetration still proved slow and awkward. Elin cried out with pain and determination as she worked my cock deeper and deeper. For myself, I'm a little ashamed to say I loved every moment of it and was impatiently trying to thrust deeper and faster than she was ready for. It's difficult to explain that urgency, or the exquisite pleasure of having your cock buried deep inside the warm grip of a woman's body.

"Fuck," she hissed, no longer looking into my eyes. She seemed to be in considerable pain, but refused to stop. Gradually we built up steam, the length of my strokes becoming longer, the pacing faster, Elin cursing loudly with each penetration.

"I can't do this," she said abruptly, and pulled away from me. "You be on top."

She collapsed onto her back and spread her legs wide for me. I leaned over to suck her clit into my mouth again, licking rapidly until she pushed me away with a groan. "Fuck me," she growled.

I moved between her legs and positioned for entry, and this time it was easier. I was soon thrusting deep into her, and I could feel my climax would be swift -- which was good because I was using muscles that had never been used like this before, and tiring quickly.

"I'm going to come soon," I warned her.

"Can you move faster?" she hissed, and I tried, but I was starting to cramp.

I struggled to maintain the pace as my body tensed in orgasm, and Elin cried out in synchrony. We came together, Elin convulsing beneath me as my cock pulsed furiously inside her, filling her womb and pussy with jet after jet of thick cum.

*

I face a similar problem to that presented to many trans women and cross-dressers, in that I have a penis I want to hide. Again I am so incredibly grateful that I have no balls. My main difficulty is the size of my penis. I have grown accustomed to having it tucked down between my legs, but it's never comfortable.

And while I can wear trousers on top, I feel far less awkward in a skirt or dress, and anyway this suits Elin who takes great pleasure in dressing me. She likes me to wear a tight corset with stockings and garters, and a gaff beneath to hold my penis tucked in place. She has bought me four beautiful corsets so far, and my collection of skirts (some too short for my liking) and shoes (most too high-heeled for my liking) is growing steadily.

Being an introvert by nature, I'm still unused to the overt sexuality of my appearance when dressed this way, and the attention I attract from both men and women usually leaves me feeling embarrassed rather than empowered, but the raw hunger in Elin's eyes makes it all worth it.

*

"Would you like to go again?" I asked, as my insatiable cock started climbing to attention once again.

She winced, just at the thought of it. "Much as I love being stretched and fucked like that," she said, "I'm all sore." With a hiss of pain, Elin rolled over onto me, straddling me. "Next time -- and I'm not saying there will be a next time -- we need lubricant. Lots of lubricant."

She caught my wrists and pressed them down on the bed either side of me. "What do you want from me?" she asked seriously. "Is this a one-night thing? Or are we starting something real?"

The thought of not seeing her again made me panic. "I want this to be real," I said quickly.

She smiled, coldly, and her grip on my wrists tightened as she lowered her mouth to my ear and bit gently. "I can be very demanding. Will you call me 'Mistress' and do as I say?"

"Yes," I said, my heart pounding.

She kissed my neck lightly, then whispered, "Yes what?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good girl," she whispered, and kissed my neck again, just below the ear. "If you keep on being a good girl, maybe I'll reward you with what you want so much."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

She leaned back, grinning cheekily, and I was relieved to see warmth in her beautiful blue eyes. "Great!" she said. "I need to phone my mum and dad, let them know I'm staying the night with my new girlfriend. But first..." And she dived down to kiss me properly.

*

I wasn't unprepared for the result of the pregnancy test. The night before, I had been complaining that it was my 'time on the month' again, my cycle unaffected by the major change to my body, when Elin had remarked that she was several days overdue. We didn't discuss it further, but we lay wrapped in each other's arms pretending to sleep for a long time before fatigue claimed us finally.

When we arrived home the following evening, I was unsurprised to see that she had bought a kit. Still we didn't speak about it, just waited tensely until she'd had a chance to do the test.

And afterwards, when she asked me what I was going to do about it?

"Elin," I said. "In the hour of my greatest need, you were there for me. When I feared that no woman could possibly look at me with desire and not see me as a bizarre freak of nature, you made me feel normal. In the short time we've known each other, you've brought me happiness I never knew was possible."

I took from my pocket my grandmother's ring, gold with a single, beautiful diamond. "Elin, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Elin dropped to her knees and took my hands in hers. "Okay," she said, blinking tears from her eyes, "but if you're hoping for a housewife, you're out of luck."

"You're a lousy cook anyway," I said, laughing, and we kissed.

*

I woke early the following morning, though my cock had risen earlier. A 'morning glory'. It was wonderful to have someone to sleep with again, to be in a relationship rather than a one-night stand. I've had too many awkward, embarrassing mornings over the years.

Elin was special. (Still is.) We clicked. It was love at first sight -- and I know it's absurd to say you can love someone immediately, but our relationship has only deepened since then. We've had our share of disagreements, fights over this and that, most often that, but I wouldn't give her up for the world.

She was sleeping on her back, and had kicked the duvet away from one leg -- it was a warm summer. I had offered to lend her pyjamas or a shirt, but she prefers to sleep naked, so I was presented that first morning with the very seductive sight of her exposed pussy. And of course I couldn't resist touching it, teasing it gently. I wanted to wake her with an orgasm, and maybe we could do something more.

My plans fell apart. Elin woke suddenly and wrapped herself protectively, and fell asleep again, muttering, "Leave me alone."

It left me feeling hurt and rejected, and I worried that I had been hasty in inviting her into my home and bed, and into my heart. I let her sleep after that, only waking her an hour before the bus was due. She seemed tense, and irritable, not at all the girl I had brought home.

On the bus, as I sat quietly mourning the relationship, she seemed suddenly to awaken. She coiled her arm through mine and laid her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm a bitch in the mornings. Always have been. Best to leave me alone until I've had my coffee."

I have learned the truth of that. Earning a smile from Elin before she's had coffee is a heroic task worthy of Heracles, and I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have succeeded. Usually the best I can hope for is a nod of approval.

As the bus approached my stop and I stood up, Elin grabbed my arm and pulled me down next to her and kissed me. I melted ecstatically into that kiss, so relieved that my fears for the relationship had proved false. I missed my stop, but it was worth it.

It was another long day in the basement of fruitless searching for clues while I continued working through the museum's huge archive. One of the advantages of being all alone in the depths of the building is that didn't have to explain why I was grinning like an idiot most of the day. At lunchtime I headed into town. Elin and I had arranged to meet at a café halfway between the museum and her school, which meant we had half an hour together over soup and a roll. After her sour disposition in the morning, it was a joy to see her cheerful again.

It was a beautiful day, so rather than rush home after work, we met in town again and spent the evening being sickeningly romantic: walking hand-in-hand through the park, having a light dinner at a restaurant overlooking the lake before strolling along by the river -- all interspersed with lots of kissing and other occasional public inappropriateness.

*

We married in February, a simple ceremony in town, the world around us shrouded in snow. I wore a white dress, a very traditional bride. I would like to say it was the happiest day of my life, but between the stress of families and all the details to worry about it was a relief when it was all done.

Elin wore white too -- a white bow tie with a smart, black tux, her blonde tresses braided back. She was six months pregnant and her rounded belly is apparent in the wedding photos. Most people were too shy to ask about the baby, but whenever they did we told them I was the father, though of course no one really believed that.

To this day, my penis remains a secret shared only by Elin and myself.

*

My bed is a very convenient design for bondage, with lots of vertical bars in the headrest. That's not why I chose it, but the design has come in useful over the years. Indeed, I'd built up a fair collection of cuffs and stuff and was a little embarrassed to show it to Elin when she demanded to see it.

However, Elin merely frowned in disappointment and said, "Is this all?" Still, she found enough to tie me naked and spread-eagled to my bed -- getting me both very hard and very wet.

She lay alongside me, her fingers tickling and tweaking my nipples. "Yesterday, you licked cum from my breasts, and now I want to return the favour."

But she wasn't in any hurry. She ignored the shaft that projected up so eagerly, and instead she traced circles with her fingertips across the smooth, sensitive skin of my inner thighs, maddeningly close to my aching clit without being near enough to excite it in any way. Similarly, her mouth was warm against my breasts and neck, her lips kissing around my nipples, her teeth biting my ears gently.

Desperate for more, my body reacting almost unconsciously, I struggled to press my nipples to her teasing lips, and to bring her fingers into contact with my clit, but without success. "Please, Mistress!" I whimpered.

As if to reward this, her fingers finally touched my pussy, gliding slowly between the outer and inner labia, pinching and tugging the folds gently, yet still avoiding my clit, no matter how I wriggled my hips in a futile quest to accelerate her game.

"Please, Mistress," I begged again. The more I called her 'Mistress', the more natural it became to do so. I have always enjoyed bondage games, but before Elin it was only ever an occasional bedroom game. With Elin, though... Neither of us is particularly interested in developing a domme/sub relationship, but Elin certainly prefers being the dominant partner in bed, and she loves telling me what to wear even when we're not in bed. And I love pleasing her.