Tales of Transwomen Tops Ch. 09

"Same as always, Tom?" she asked from behind the bar. I'd barely taken two steps inside when she looked up, smiled at me, and asked the question.

"Definitely. I'm gasping for a drink."

Taking my usual stool at the bar, she placed my drink down in front of me. Taking a sip, I released an exaggerated sigh. "Long week, Tom? It's only Wednesday."

"Ex-wife is blowing up my phone. Despite the divorce, she's still hoping for some sort of reconciliation."

"Damn, she's still not taking the hint?"

"More than a hint. I'm not sure how much blunter I can be about the fact I wanted nothing more to do with her. We've sold the house, we don't have kids, and I've been on to her parents about it, hoping they could talk to her and make her see reality. But I think they might still be hopeful about us getting together in the end."

"I'll keep the drinks coming when you need them, Tom." She returned a lovely smile. Her name was Chrystie and she'd been a friendly ear since the first time I'd walk in.

"Thanks, Chrys."

"You're welcome, Tom. Just don't get too drunk."

I understood the last few words. My wife had proven to be unfaithful more than once during our marriage, I just didn't know about it until one of our good friends finally had an attack of conscience and told me about it. Disbelieving her at first, most spouses would not want to hear such things, she was able to provide evidence of the messages shared and then photos of my ex-wife and her lovers together.

Therefore, I did what the internet told me to do. Hit the gym, delete Facebook, get a lawyer. I did the latter thing first, talking to a lawyer about my options. We only owned a house together, there were no kids, and we had few other joint assets apart from a joint account we used to pay the mortgage and bills, still keeping our own accounts otherwise. I knew we couldn't afford to buy each other out regarding the house so that would simply be sold. It hadn't bothered me as I didn't want the place anyway.

I didn't have Facebook. In fact, I detest social media, so that wasn't a problem, but it did explain how my wife got away with it for so long. Apparently, she was on a few apps I had heard of where she was rather flagrant in regard to her infidelity.

The last thing I did was go back to the gym. I was now in my thirties and had stopped playing sport after blowing out a knee just after I hit thirty. Didn't stop me from lifting weights and other things. Over a few months, I'd shed the extra kilos I'd been carrying around, firmed up parts of my body that had gone soft, and when I looked in the mirror, I could at least smile that something was going right in my life.

During the divorce, I learned who my friends were. And I realised that I didn't have many, at least in terms of those I could trust. I wasn't surprised that her friends remained loyal to her, despite what she'd done. Anyone who knew and didn't tell me was cut out of my life regardless of any apology or sorrow. The trust was gone with them as much as it had been completely destroyed with my wife.

What happened with my wife, and then most of her friends, made me rather suspicious of women. The problem was that I was never really interested in one-night stands and had no interest in picking women up in places like bars. After moving out and then selling our house, I found a one room apartment in the inner west of Sydney. And this area of the city was known for its rather liberal and tolerant outlook regarding most facets of life, particularly things like gender and sexuality.

But I was just after a place to drink. I noticed the pride flag above the door, but I paid it no mind when I walked into the bar for the first time. Taking a seat, I did ask if this would turn into a nightclub later. The lady behind the bar chuckled, assuring me that music would get louder later, but it was a pub, not a club. She showed me a menu that listed food available until midnight.

The place filled up that first night. Plenty of gays and lesbians. I assumed other genders and sexualities. I just ignored it all, focusing on my drink most of the time, polite enough to chat to anyone who sat next to me who wanted some conversation. By the end of the night, I was rather drunk. Chrystie had introduced herself while I was sat there, no doubt looking a little sorry for myself, being newly divorced and feeling a little lonely, paying my tab at the end of the night.

"Will I see you again, Tom?"

"I live close by. Might just become a regular."

"Despite the fact you're relatively straight?"

Shrugging with a smile, I replied, "Not particularly interested in women right now anyway though that doesn't mean I'll play for the other team now."

For the next couple of months, I'd stop by at least one night during the week, and then head there on Friday or Saturday night, sometimes even both nights if I felt like it. I was soon rather well known by the regulars, and once they heard my story, many understood why. All the guys, most of them being gay, were friendly and never tried anything on with me. In fact, they were rather protective at times, warning off anyone who couldn't take a hint that I was a straight male and not interested.

I couldn't always figure out women though. Many straight men have this idea of lesbians as being butch and acting more like men. Now while stereotypes do exist, like anything else, lesbians came in all flavours. But it was when the straight women would arrive, particularly on a weekend, that left me rather confused about their intentions. More than once, I was even accused of trying to pick up straight women in a gay club. They didn't see the hypocrisy of their statement, of course, considering they were straight women in the same place.

While gay men didn't bother me, I learned about certain other cultures within the club. I knew about transwomen, of course. And transmen, though there seemed to be many more of the former. Most of them were lovely people, very friendly, and just wanted to be accepted. Then there were the incredibly effeminate gay men. Then there was a small group calling themselves 'femboys'. I wasn't sure if they were transgender, gay, or something in between. I ended up chatting to more than one during those weekends. Most were young, far younger than I was, but it was obvious that they were after a man like me. They flirted with me relentlessly and more than one insinuated that me fucking a femboy didn't make me gay.

I wasn't quite sure about that, as although they spoke, dressed and, hell, some even looked like women, they still had a cock and, when asking, many would act as males the rest of the time.

And, god help me, don't even ask me about all these sexualities nowadays. It's far too confusing, and while I try and be understanding, I find asking blunt questions usually stops any confusion.

Despite the fact I was single and going without sex, I never did take any femboy up on his offer of a night of carefree sex. And let me be clear. They might have been young, but I appreciated the confidence, nearly all of them going into great detail about how much they'd love to suck my cock, and then they just wanted me to fuck them all night.

To be honest, I almost gave into temptation more than once, particularly regarding a couple of them, who were so unbelievably cute, I would almost be willing to overlook the fact they were presented as male the rest of the time.

"Another one, Tom?" Chrystie asked, no doubt noticing I was away with my thoughts.

Checking my watch, I ran a hand over my head and sighed. "No, I'd better not. I've got work tomorrow and it's not good if the boss shows up hungover."

Passing my glass to her, she let her soft fingers graze the top of my hand. "It'll get better, Tom," she suggested softly, "And I can see all the hard work is paying off. Your arms are definitely bigger and firmer."

"Time at the gym helps burn off some pent-up sexual energy."

"Still no interest in dating though?"

"Not really. In addition to gym work, I'll just jerk off if and when necessary."

Chrystie laughed at my honesty before reaching to take my hand. "You're a handsome man, Tom. I'm sure there is more than one lady out there who'd love to be your wife." I met her eyes, and she simply returned my look for a few seconds, before she actually turned away and I think she started to blush.

"You have a good night, Chrystie."

"Thank you, Tom. I'll see you again soon."

Anyone who has been through a divorce due to infidelity knows how you're left with that empty feeling. The person you have loved and trusted above else has betrayed you in the worst possible way. The ex-wife had apologised more than once, but like most others, I was always left feeling she was sorry for getting caught, not sorry for what she was actually up to. And me being the oblivious and trusting fool simply didn't realise his ex-wife was, putting it bluntly, a massive fucking slut.

But the nights at the pub did help me feel better over those first few weeks living in my new place. I hated going home to an empty, silent apartment. The guys who worked for me knew what I was going through and did their best to have me laughing constantly. Nothing better than a bunch of proper blokes doing their best to make their mate feel better. Most of the humour was rude and crude, and definitely not suitable for all audiences, but sometimes laughter is the best medicine.

Gym work also helped relieved other frustrations. Every week I'd look in the mirror and see the subtle changes. More definition on my arms and body. One of the trainers would measure me at the end of every week to check my progress. I hadn't let myself go while married, as I didn't want to be considered a lazy slob, but working a heavy bag for half an hour was incredibly cathartic.

Though I had the guys at work, I wouldn't call many of them close friends. At the end of the day, they were my employees, and although there were invites to family barbecues, and we could almost chat about everything, I knew they also kept part of them sealed off. I understood why.

I found solace in the strangers of the pub. Life passes quickly when you think about it, and it was soon a calendar year after my divorce. The ex-wife had finally given up after around nine months, particularly once I blocked any means of communication, and told her parents that if she didn't cease her means of trying to contact, I would obtain a restraining order for harassment.

"You're looking better, Tom," Chrystie stated one late afternoon when I walked in, needing to wet my whistle after another long week. I'd spent Friday night at home but didn't want to be a weekend recluse.

I only replied after I'd taken a seat and there was a beer in front of me. "Why do you say that?"

She smiled before replying, "You're smiling. I don't see that very often."

"It was a year since my divorce on Wednesday. I gave myself a year to grieve what I lost. I gave it a year to empty myself of all the feelings I had for her. The love. The hate. The rage. The sorrow. I had to work it all out of my system. Three hundred and sixty-five days to simply 'get over it'. Funnily enough, I think I was over it long before, but I had the idea in my head to give it that amount of time, then simply seal it away in my mind and not think about it again."

"Is it that simple?"

"Not really, but I've been working on my mental health in the past couple of months. You know, mostly about thinking positively and all that sort of stuff."

As the place was still pretty quiet, she leaned forward and took my hand. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Tom. I hope this place has helped you too."

"A certain friendly ear has definitely helped."

Her smile lit up the entire room. I'd always considered Chrystie rather attractive, her brunette hair down past her shoulders, and a pair of blue eyes that simply sparked. Don't get me started on her very kissable lips and what could only be called a very cute nose. As I simply gazed at her, she started to blush and cleared her throat. "Well, you are a regular, Tom, and I have to look after my regulars."

"Thank you, Chrys. Nice to know I have some friends."

The fact I was in a far better mood heightened interest in me as I was being hit on left, right and centre all night. Given I hadn't had sex in over a year, I was in a good mood, and being blunt, really fucking horny. I still had no interest in men at all, but there were a couple of very cute femboys who wouldn't take no for an answer. One of them was a short blonde, and if you didn't know any better, wouldn't have guessed. I had to tread carefully, thankfully them being aware why, insisting they were a girl, wanted to be treated like a girl, and they lived almost permanently as a girl.

"I only revert when I'm around my parents and family," she said, "They wouldn't understand."

"I'm not sure how to ask this question, but are you... you know..."

"Trans? As in I want to be a woman all the time and possibly go through surgery and all the other things?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I mean, I like being a girl and all, but I'm not sure I need to do all that. I think I'm somewhere in between. I won't say I happily revert back to being a boy, but I don't have dysmorphia or anything like that." She looked away for a moment before her brown eyes looked back at me. "Do you think I'm pretty, Tom?"

"Definitely."

Her hand rested on my thigh as she shuffled her stool closer. "Would you like some company tonight? I know I'm not all woman but..."

I shut her up by kissing her softly on the lips. It didn't last too long but she was certainly blushing by the end of it. "You do know how old I am compared to you, right? And..."

"I know you're not gay or anything, nor probably after anything serious. Trust me, Tom, we all know you in here by now, and know your story. I just think you're handsome and would love you to take me home for an evening."

"I haven't had a one-night stand in years."

Resting a hand on her bare thigh had her smiling. "Tom, I'll tell you a few things. Not a wig. I'm smooth all over. I made sure I was ready for tonight as I really want to be fucked. I won't expect you to go down on me because I still have a cock, but I'll cum hard when you fuck me."

"That's... That's pretty hot, Coral." Her name was short for Coralyn.

She smiled shyly before leaning forward to kiss me again. "There are around a dozen girls in here right now that want to be in my position. Three of them are currently behind the bar."

Glancing to my right, I noticed all of them smiling at me. Chrystie met my eyes and gave me a thumbs up. I'm fairly sure she mouthed 'Get her, tiger', although I have been wrong before. I enjoyed a couple more drinks with Coral before finally asked, "Are you going to take me home, Tom?"

"Yes," I replied simply, "Want to go now?"

Offering my hand, I stood up and realised how much shorter than me she was. There were a few whistles as it was the first time that I'd not left the pub by myself. My apartment wasn't too far away, Coral making comment that it certainly wasn't the sort of bachelor pad she expected. It was decorated nicely, well lit, and I kept it neat and tidy. Offering her a drink, she replied by leaning up to kiss me, smiling as our tongues were playfully duelling within second. I didn't even bother guiding her to the living room, simply moving us to the bedroom.

"Tom... I haven't been with many men before..."

"How many?" I wondered.

"Only two. One was a genuine boyfriend. The other guy just fucked me when he wanted."

"You sure you want..."

"Tom, you're going to be getting hit on by all the pretty girls over the next few weeks. I just wanted my chance."

She was nervous once I had her down to her underwear, wearing a bra despite the obvious flat chest, and her hard-on was straining her panties. She loved undressing me at the same time, and once my cock sprung free as she lowered my boxer briefs, she quietly exclaimed, "Fuck yes!"

"Impressed?"

She looked up and smiled. "Bigger than the other two, that's for sure."

Sitting on the edge of my bed, Coral stripped off her bra and then her panties, revealing a rather cute cock. Smaller than mine, but she blushed as I stared at it for a few seconds. "Is it weird?" she asked softly. I replied by gently grasping it and pulling her close, earning a whimper when I gave it a few slow strokes. "Okay, so not weird. Just different?"

"You're a girl, Coral. Or maybe I should call you a young woman?"

"I've always wanted to be a girl. Now I can be what I want to be."

She straddled my lap as we made out. When we finally came up for breath, her pale cheeks were now rather red, her chest rising and falling with her excitement. She would have felt my cock nestling between her rather firm cheeks. "Tom... Before we start, I have to tell you just one thing."

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

She sighed and sagged slightly. "It's Chrystie..."

"What about her?"

"You don't realise, do you?"

"Realise what?"

"She really likes you. Every regular in the pub seems to realise that except you. And now I'm suddenly feeling guilty, because although she told me to go for it, as she wants you to have some fun, I know how she feels. And now I'm wondering if you..."

"She's a good friend, Coral, but... You're here with me now. We can enjoy one night, can't we?"

"I know. I just had an attack of conscience, like I was taking you away from her."

I think the next kiss we shared, soft and sensual, assured Coral that the only person on my mind was her. Sliding off my lap, her eyes lit up as she got another good look at my cock. I groaned as she teased me for a little while, her tongue working up and down my shaft before her soft lips finally wrapped around it and plunged down at least two-thirds of my length.

Coral might not have had a lot of experience but she sure was enthusiastic. Her eyes constantly gazed up at me, almost needing to hear from me how wonderful she was. Caressing her cheek with the back of my hand lit her eyes up and she doubled down on her efforts. Having not been blown in far too long, I knew I wasn't going to last long.

"Coral," I moaned, and to my slight relief, she pulled away for a moment, using her soft hand to slowly keep me turned on.

"I've wanted to do this since the first night I saw you, Tom. I've had such a crush on you."

"Not the only one?"

"God no. All the girls, femboys, transwomen, and I reckon even a couple of the lesbians would like to be in my place right now. We know you're a good man."

Resuming her blowjob, it was obvious that I wasn't going to last long, and she was somewhat desperate to make me cum. I always loved running my fingers through a woman's hair while she was going down on me, and then holding her head gently as I got ready to cum. The ex-wife... Well, blowjobs had ended long ago, and swallowing? That was only in the first couple of months of dating.

Coral was eager for my cum, and when I finally filled her mouth, she didn't hesitate in swallowing my load. Fairly sure the neighbours probably heard me groan during my orgasm, Coral not relenting on my cock until I had nothing left to give her, though she still kept sucking me until I gently pushed her back. She immediately moved to sit on my lap, kissing me hard.

"I didn't think you'd kiss me," she said in shock.

"Why not?"

"Because you'd taste your cum in my mouth."

"You just swallowed. I think I can handle residual aftertaste."

She paused and gazed at me before asking softly, "How long before we can make love?"

"Make love?"

Her cheeks grew red again as she nodded. "I mean, you're going to fuck me, but I have a feeling you're not going to make me feel cheap, even if it's only for one night."

Moving down the bed together, we kept making out as her smaller hand worked my cock while I was surprised that I had little problem returning the favour. Hearing her whimper a couple of times turned me on even more, loving the fact she was so horny with me. She finally broke the kiss and wanted me to do something for her.