Steph Loves Chels

I go by the name Stephanie, a name I took some 18 months ago.

Just out of the shower, I see the progress toward feminization reflected in the vanity mirror. My curves are gentle and elongated but I'm fine with that. My boobs are C cups, the size I wanted desperately since the start of HRT.

As I towel off my subconscious looks ahead to my workday. In approximately an hour PT patients will be coming to me at the check-in counter. Chelsea Richards, a nurse, had begun her career as a male who ached to be just like her colleagues on the 6th floor. Word of her transition spread quickly once she started wearing makeup. That we both work for Seattle Mercy Hospital is just a happy coincidence.

She came into my life through a transgender support group when I first started going by the name Stephanie but had not yet made the change legal. Her body, like mine, has made considerable progress toward feminization.

"Hey Chels, can you zip me up," I asked.

She zipped the Cream/Midnight colorblock dress up and I turned around to kiss her lips. I returned the favor by zipping up her Ivory/Midnight colorblock jumpsuit.

We would soon be spending a leisurely Sunday afternoon at MFA Seattle looking at contemporary works.

At 6 30 on a Monday evening I was slouching in the sofa putting my feet on the hassock. Chelsea was sitting in the rocker peering through the sliding doors. Netflix was showing "Grey's Anatomy", a favorite program. The episode featured a transgender who is battling cancer possibly caused by feminine hormones that she's taking.

"Chels this is interesting," I said.

She asked, "you mean that transgender on TV."

"Yah," I said.

"I don't like to think about those things. It's scary."

I said, "and it could easily be one or both of us."

Chelsea gave a silent nod.

I asked, "anything interesting out there."

"Same old stuff," she replied.

Another episode of "Grey's Anatomy" followed immediately though by this time my interest began to wane. I stared lustfully at the girl sitting in the rocker. She looked at me with a sly grin.

Before the start of transition I had discovered a website that encourages people to pose nude. When I first learned of the site I used to watch others posing but I never broadcast myself. That changed after I met Chelsea.

She rose from the chair so I followed her to our bedroom. She angled the monitor then logged onto her account.

She pulled off her red lace-up tunic revealing her modest boobs. She cupped them for just a second then bent to pull off her slacks. Clad in just panties, she pulled those off while on camera. Cupping her hands under her breasts, she squeezed gently while swaying her hips swinging her dick.

After watching the monitor for several seconds I undressed down to my birthday suit and put a hand on my dick. Almost instantaneously the organ went erect.

"I like being a chick with a dick," I quipped.

Lying on the mattress I tightened my grip on the shaft. My girlfriend angled the monitor to capture the action. I pumped my hand rapidly pulling the skin back and forth.

I could sense that I was about to squirt cum so I shifted my eyes to watch my girlfriend swaying her hips swinging her dick. I put a hand over my left boob, pressed the nipple then slid my hand to the right side and pressed that nipple. Meanwhile my hand gripped just a little more firmly and pumped slightly faster. Suddenly white liquid streamed leaving a streak near my navel and another just beneath my left boob.

I loosened my grip. The organ went limp in my hand. I looked at the cum on my body and wanted to add to it.

Meanwhile the camera caught Chels jerking herself off. Like me, she was determined to achieve a climax however messy.

"I think I'll keep my dick," she quipped.

After a few minutes I grabbed tissues from the nightstand and wiped myself thoroughly. Meanwhile Chelsea had logged out.

I knelt beside the bed putting my face down to the mattress. My lover had grabbed the lube from the dresser draw and proceeded to spread a generous amount of it inside my crack. Even her hand felt good between my cheeks.

Lying on the mattress, I pulled my knees back over my chest putting my feet against her shoulders. She rocked gently pushing her thick manhood against my prostate gland. I stroked my own dick enhancing the pleasure.

Tuesday came very quickly. The alarm sounded so I reached out to tap my i-phone on the nightstand. Seconds later while I was adjusting the shower temperature to my liking Chelsea drew back the curtain causing water to hit the floor as she stepped into the tub.

"You going to have to dry the floor," I teased.

"Suck my dick," she scowled.

I grabbed the Dial from its dish and spread it generously. Meanwhile Chelsea's loose grip on my penis made it hard then fully erect. Her hands crept upward over wet skin to my breasts cupping them.

"That feels good," I murmured.

"It sure does," she said looking at her busy hands.

The shower rinsed away the lather then we traded places. She lathered her body then rinsed while I caressed her b cups.

My transition is not exactly a secret to my colleagues. Like Chelsea, I had come out long before the effects of hormones began to show. Recently we gave each other a kiss exposing us as lesbians.

The physical therapist Jenny Larson is an attractive and friendly coworker whom I had known since her first day just over a year ago. Long wavy chestnut-brown hair frames a rectangular face. A hint of shadow beautifies her brown eyes. She wears a gorgeous shade of light-pink on her thin lips.

"My girlfriend proposed the other night," she said beaming.

Wait, you said 'girlfriend'? I looked at her in disbelief as my brain yelled the words.

"I didn't realize that you're gay."

"I'm not out to many people. Caroline and I have been together for three years."

I said, "thank you for coming out to me."

She said, "because you're a card carrying member of the LGBTQ community."

I chuckled and replied, "yup and so is Chelsea."