Paris with Carmen Alejandra

I stay at the beach house, my residence, most of the time from 1 April through the end of the World Series. I follow the ballplayers. Opening day of Major League Baseball is 1 April and the season goes through the World Series. So, the players arrive and start work on 1 April, and I arrive home on the same day; by the end of the World Series, when the weather is getting too cold to spend much time outdoors in New Jersey, I travel for five months until next April. Most of my business can be done over the Internet or by phone.

I take my extended family for four nights over Thanksgiving to a resort or a big city and four nights around Christmas to a ski resort. I let them use the beach house for the day, or overnight, with notification during the summer. So, we stay close but they respect my privacy. Otherwise, my time is my own.

I enjoy learning languages. I'm not particularly good at it, but it is very satisfying to be able speak with regular people when I travel, not only people is the hospitality and tourism industry, especially women. I also like to immerse myself in other cultures. These interests complement my sexual adventurism.

For several years in a row, I spent January through March in Bangkok studying Thai at the American University Association, where they teach both Thai and English. On the weekends, I would go to a golf resort (I gave up golf a few years ago from concern for the environment), or to Marina Cottages on Phuket, or to hang out with my Aussie drinking buddy who lives in Hong Kong. In the evenings, after my studies, a workout in the gym and taking care of business matters via Internet, then, well, Bangkok and Hong Kong offer plenty of opportunity for adventure of the carnal variety. I did the same in Rio de Janeiro for a few years.

Last year, I decided to re-learn the French language which I had studied in my youth. So, I got a room at a five-star Hyatt near the Louvre in the Second Arrondisment and enrolled in a morning class at Alliance Française on the Left Bank. On the weekends, I would fly to another European city like Oslo or Amsterdam, to check it out, or I'd visit a ski resort to ski on Saturday and Sunday morning before returning to Paris. The morning sessions were just three hours, 9 to noon. I'd hit the hotel gym early, walk a mile back and forth to my classes, enjoy a big French lunch, take a nap, and take care of business online. It was great. I'm doing the same this winter but with a longer walk to class from the Sofitel in the 8th Arrondissement near the Opera. I love hotels. I love to explore big cities by walking around and Paris is the best for that.

This winter, I decided to bring my old friend, Carmen Alejandra, to spend a weekend. I had spent the first few weekends in Paris exploring the scene for swingers' clubs (ones which welcome trans women) and S&M clubs and I found a couple which looked quite interesting. Carmen Alejandra would be just the friend with whom to enjoy them. I told her to lose some weight before the trip because we'd be eating high-calorie French meals every day.

Carmen is a transsexual escort. In fact, that's how we met about ten years ago one raining summer night in Washington. I seldom indulge escorts, my time in Asia notwithstanding, but that night I was feeling both horny and lonely.

I've been seeing Carmen a few times a year ever since and can say we're friends after all this time. Over the years, we went from one-hour appointments, to overnights, to meeting for long weekends. We've met in Las Vegas, New York, St. Barts, Los Angeles and Miami (she lives in Ft. Lauderdale). Once, in Miami, we took ecstasy together at the Ultra Mustic Festival. While the sex is great, I see her as much for companionship and, after all these years, she has become a touchstone of stability in my libertine but alone life.

Carmen's passport indicates "Female" under gender, which required a certified doctor's letter at the time she got it. She is a big girl, a thoroughly passable Latina from Long Island originally, who went to Florida for college and transitioned there. She still goes to visit her mother back home around Christmas and Easter and gets a room at a nearby motel to entertain clients while she's there. I asked her if she ever runs into guys she knew in high school and she said, "The guys I went to high school with are my best customers."

I give her some financial advice from time to time. At my advice, she files her income tax every year, telling the IRS she clean houses, which explains her cash income, and trades in antique lamps, which explains her frequent travel. She had a boyfriend for a while, a big German biker dude, about whom she told me and I fantasized seeing her make love with him.

I have dated two "working women" before and found that if a guy accepts what they do, they have the same need to date or have a boyfriend as any other woman.

The first was in New York when I was a construction worker in my 20s. My buddy and I went to a sex club, which turned out to be a brothel with a few girls mingling among the guys and open sex for a set fee for the night. One heavy-set young black woman by the name of "Coco," approached me. We talked for a while and went down on me in the main room, then I fucked her. Then, we fucked in the shower. She took me and my friend to an afterhours club called The Nursery, where we danced until morning. I saw her once again at the sex club and ran into her a couple of times at The Nursery and once on the street. We fucked in the bathroom at the Nursery and she took me back overnight to her run-down place in the Bronx twice. Except for through the sex club, I never paid her.

The other was when I moved to Bangkok for a work assignment for two years. I was there about a week when I asked some young waitresses at a restaurant where they like to go out in the neighborhood. They recommended the disco at the Ambassador Hotel. So, I went there and was having a beer when two women approached me and asked with which of them I would like to dance. I chose the skinny one in the tight mini skirt. We danced for a few numbers until a slow tune came on and she guided me to the dark part of the dancefloor. We caressed, I felt her ass and we kissed. I bought drinks for her and her friend. She asked to go home with me and, as we walked across the parking lot to catch a taxi, she said she would need the equivalent of $40. (This was in 1993.) I became angry that I she was a prostitute, gave her $40 and said, "If you need the money that badly, take it, but I'm not taking you home and I'm not paying you for sex." I expected her to take the money thankfully for not having to work for it. Instead, as I got into the taxi and looked back, she was crying. I felt bad, so I waved for her to come in and off we went. For a month or two after that, we'd have dinner most nights of the week, go back to my place for sex, then she would go off to work the bars. I went to her small apartment once for dinner with her friend and sex while her friend feigned sleeping next to us. We even double dated with a work colleague from out of town and took two visiting colleagues out dancing. I knew what she did and she was open about it. She felt stuck in her situation.

Toward the end of the relationship, I realized she was a post-op transexual, mainly because she never let me touch her pussy or go down on her. I think my work colleagues suspected it, and mentioned something about her being unsual looking. I stopped seeing her when I began dating a proper Thai woman from my firm.

But I romanticize. At last, my relationship with Carmen Alejandra remains essentially transactional, but we get along well.

I like to treat her well, as a sugar daddy. I arranged for a car service to pick her up at her apartment in Ft. Lauderdale and take her to Miami International where she took Air France Business Class non-stop to Paris. (From the Airport Lounge onward one feels like one is already in France because the food and wine are great.) I had the hotel send a driver to pick her up at Charles De Gaulle in Paris and check her into the hotel while I was in class on Thursday morning.

In our duplex suite at the Sofitel, the living room is on the first level and the bedroom and bath in a loft, overlooking the living room. It is surrounded by light with its 6-meter-high bay windows. I left an envelope on the table with half her money for her five-night stay, a joint (I had the bellman score a bag for me), a note and a medical report (with professional translation) from an STD 10 Panel test I had done a few days before.

I have been seeing Carmen for so long, we agreed that if I had a full panel done as soon as possible before meeting, we would not use condoms. It is only proper that she protect her health in her occupation. I'm grateful that she makes this consecession for me which she doesn't make for other clients, or at least she says she doesn't.

The note said, "Welcome to Paris. If you care to indulge in the little welcome gift I provided, please be sure to open a window and blow the smoke out. I will return from class at about 1:00. If you rested on the flight and would like to go directly to lunch, a little shopping and explore the city, be waiting for me in the lobby. If you'd like to take a rest after your flight, the bed is upstairs. I will gently wake you when I return because I want you to adjust to Paris Time quickly, although we will be staying out nights. Love, J."

When I arrived, she was not in the lobby. When I entered the room, it was dark and quiet and she had taken a few hits off the joint. I took off my shoes and went up the spiral stairs. She was in bed, under the covers, sound asleep.

I quietly undressed, brushed my teeth and quickly showered (I had last showered at 7:00 am), and slipped under the covers with her. She was on her side, facing away from me and completely naked, despite her great collection of lingerie, some of which I bought her. She hardly registered that I got into bed and moaned ever so slightly as I put my left arm around her waist and snuggled her from behind. No need for foreplay, I was hard as a rock as I nestled my rod between the cheeks of her ample buttocks. She smelled fresh and clean with just a hint of the perfume I bought her in Miami in the spring. It felt like home.

I moved her long, black hair out of the way and began to gently kiss her neck and shoulders. She moved a bit. She stroked my arm as I caressed her stomach and hips and eventually slipped my hand down to her love throttle.

I got a rise out of her when I slipped my tongue into her ear. She squealed and turned on her back laughing. I threw my leg over her thigh. We hugged and kissed each other deeply.

While still kissing, I moved on top of her. I could feel her start to bulge as my hard cock pressed against her there. I moved down to kiss, suck and nibble her nipples. Then I could grind her crotch with my chest and she ground back. Kissing and sucking her nipples seems to validate her identity as a woman as nothing else does.

I slipped down further and took her half-hard, ample, fairly thick, uncircumcised clit in my mouth, as I'd done many times before. I'm not sure if I do it right and ask Carmen for feedback, how to do it better for her, but she doesn't provide guidance, so I don't know if I do it as well as I could.

After she was fully erect. I took a tube of lube which I had preposition in the drawer of the nightstand. She spread her legs and put them back. At first, I only applied the lube to the tip of my johnson and rubbed on her pussy opening. I added more and more lube until my manly pointer was completely covered. I slipped it in slowly and began slowly stroking while I looked down on her body, her big D cup breasts and beautiful face. Seldom am I happier. After a while I asked if I should grind her or pound her. She said, "Pound me."

I withdrew, turned her over on her stomach and re-entered her in the prone position, she moaned and said, "Yea, that's it." She pushed up onto her knees and my balls were slapping against hers. If felt a little vibration inside her, which is the closest she comes to cumming because she no longer ejaculates after years of hormone therapy. It is a mystery whether her orgasm feel more like that of a man or that of a woman or something else. It is a mystery which keeps bringing me back to her.

I leaned back for more complete penetration. I finally came in her and we fell aside one another in exhaustion.

Before I went up to the sleeping/bathroom loft, I had ordered a croque monsieur, a bottle of Saint-Emilion and fruit for dessert. I figured that would be a typical light French lunch if we shared the sandwich because I was planning a big dinner. I ordered it to be delivered an hour later because I figured we'd be done reacquainting ourselves, we'd be hungry, and it would be getting late in the afternoon to get dressed and go out. I was right on all counts, and it was perfect.

Carmen really liked the croque monsieur, especially the cheese. I said, "They eat a lot of cheese here and the cheeses are great."

She said, "You ARE trying get me fat on this trip!"

"You're right, so you become big and fat and none of the other boys will want you anymore and I can have you all to myself.