The Tranny Lover - Judy, Judy, Judy

"Zip up your fly."

"Oh yeah, thanks, bye." and that was that. Perhaps Giselles was right. Ours was just a one night stand.

I called her several days later. Giselle seemed confused and hostile.

"Why are you calling me?"

"I just wanted to thank you for a nice time."

"Who are you?"

I tried to explain, but I didn't seem to be successful. I never called again. Perhaps Giselle confused me with someone else? That was the end game for me, it was the last time I had sex with anyone other than Judy.

THE STATE OF PERFECTION

There was a world of difference between sex with an unknown streetwalker and Judy. We made passionate love. Every sequence of the act was near perfect. She always made her body mine. Her voice was filled with emotion while I was breathlessly fucking her. She was whispering love words as she came near to experiencing her orgasm.

She'd say, "Oh, Querido (my dearest), that was good," and often many words in Spanish that I didn't understand. When we finished, she'd smile at me. Then we'd put sex aside, like the closing of a book, and talk about other things.

Some very feminine transsexuals have the lovely ability to cum when you fuck them in the ass. A situation analogous to a women's squirting during orgasming. Maybe I was too young and unaware? I know she would actively orgasm but don't remember that Judy combined that with a spurting of sperm. Perhaps she was too ladylike. If she did, she drew no attention to it. I think her orgasms were happening almost entirely inside her mind. But for me, the sexual experience was excellent. I filled up condom after condom. I discarded them filled and knotted as if they were water bombs. Sex was beyond satisfactory.

It was lovely that Judy was almost always in a good mood and mothering, nurturing.

"Where'd you park the car? Was it safe? Can I see it from the window?"

She'd offered to walk me out to my car for my safety, I always refused. I'd look back, and I could see her watching from her apartment window and waving goodbye.

If I said to her on the phone, "I want to fuck you," she'd say, "let's do it, come right over."

She was always there for me. I could have been more polite and said, "Let's make love," but "I want to fuck you," was sexier and more direct, more honest. I was convinced that anal sex with Judy was as good or better than what I'd experienced with my dick deep in women's vaginas. Judy's tits were a work of art. What more could I want?

You are probably thinking, what kind of wife did I have? It would surprise you to know she was quite beautiful. At one time, the sex was delightful, but after several years it was had become infrequent. There were always excuses, "my period, a frequent vaginal infection, a headache, too tired, not in the mood."

Sometimes when I'd get back from my rendezvous with Judy, still feeling horny, I shower off and try to wake up Dora to have sex with her as well. Was I some kind of sex maniac? No, in my experience, the more sex you are having, the more sex you can perform. But the truth was, even if you are having good sex, it does not mean a good marriage. Something did not work between us, no matter how hard we tried.

So there I was, caught between what for me were two women. It might seem strange, but I always considered Judy a woman. My eyes and mind were closed to any evidence to the contrary. That might sound strange, but it wasn't for me. I thought we were a modern version of Romeo and Juliet, but not tragic figures. Obviously, her identity fantasy coincided with mine. She believed that on the inside, she was female. She had altered her outward appearance to match her vision. Her tits were womanly, her ass was her "pussy," her tiny cock as her "cleet (clitoris)." That always made me smile.

And yes, you might think it strange but there was so much foreplay. Something you do with a lover or a wife, not with a prostitute. I would disrobe in her pink bedroom and lay my clothing on her pink sofa chair next to the bed. I would lie nude next to her. She would be naked as well. Her magnificent lily-white tits and tiny pink ruby nipples were attractions I could not get enough of. We would lay touching each other, staring at the light blue ceiling covered with sparkling images of stars, planets, and what I imagined were distant galaxies.

I'd lay restfully, gathering my strength and absorb in the tranquility she'd created, her hand would slowly creep up over my thigh and clasp my penis. If I wasn't fully erect, moments later, her nipples in my mouth, I would be. Her other hand was circling my balls, separating my anatomy into two spheres of interest.

Her mouth would open, her tongue would wet my penis, then she'd engulf the head and shaft inside her mouth. Slowly holding all of my cock in her mouth, her lips touching my pubic area. Then she'd pause, descend to grasp each of my large balls, one by one, in her warm mouth. That sensation was unbearably glorious.

She'd rise from the bed, take a tube of lubricant from her bed table, and hand me a condom or roll it on me. Then we were off to the races. She'd lay on her chest, with her ass up. I'd pull myself over her, spread her legs wide. Erect and hard with a dollop of lube, I'd take my cock in hand and slowly search for the road to paradise. If my entry was not perfect, Judy would reach back, take my cock, and direct it to the path of almost no resistance. Her anus was tight. I could feel it as it surrounded my organ as I penetrated her.

I would fuck her for a while with her legs widespread. Then I'd lift my legs to over hers, pressing her legs together. Her ass tightened on me as my balls, my dick was a battering ram that broke the door of a king's vanquished castle. It was the most delightful feeling. Holding the end of the mattress to allow me to plunge deep inside her, feeling her ass beneath me. Taking her breath away as she urged me on, saying,

"Oh yes, more, harder, fuck your pussy."

I could no longer contain myself, I came like a rocket taking off spraying my sperm inside her. As I slowed my attack, she took over. Thrusting her ass against me, savoring my stiff cock inside her, tightening her anus to squeeze the very last drop of cum out of my penis until my hard-on began to soften, losing its tumescence. That was how we made love!

There was a variation that must have played into my fantasies. I placed Judy on her back. I'd put my bare cock between her hot legs and fuck her, the way you would fuck a woman's vagina. She seemed to enjoy that, it was the reverse of anal. I move against her ass cheeks, her legs tight together.

Completing this vigorous activity, I'd shoot warm wet sperm, all over her pussy, thighs, where ever. I'd even wet the towel she'd put under us. She never cared or complained. As I concluded my copious emission, I'd give her a long tongue kiss, biting her lower lip as I'd cum. Those tender lips were so very kissable.

Other times while she was sitting on the edge of the bed, I'd lift up her legs, high enough so I could enter her anus and look in her eyes as I fucked her. It was as close to a variation on the missionary position as I could perform and still be inside her. Being inside the one you love is what it is all about. That penetration is an intimacy that can never be surpassed.

When we finished making love, I'd excuse myself and go into her bathroom to wash my cock and stick balls. I'd drop the white grey cum filled condom, knotting it first, into the trash basket and lean my cock and balls over the sink, waiting as the cold water turned warm. I'd use a fragrant liquid soap to wash, sometimes warm water-induced me to pee. I would rinse the sink carefully, dry myself with a small soft towel, and look around. I was always delighted by how feminine her bathroom was, smelling of perfume with tiny bottles of cosmetics and bubble bath balls in different colors.

On one occasion, I peeked in a lower shelf behind the door. That was where Judy kept her douche. A long plastic nozzle with a rubber ball at the top. I never touched it, but it answered how she was always so clean. You don't want to do anal with an amateur.

FRANTIC DISAPPEARANCE

I called Judy a few days later to tell her the good news, but the phone rang and rang until it finally gave out. I was worried. Serial killers were out there. I was worried something had happened to her. I was going crazy, I rushed to her empty apartment. Two weeks later, I finally heard from her. She texted me. I immediately called her back. She had been arrested while working as a streetwalker. Her excuse, she needed money for her mother's birthday.

In the well-lit motel zone, an undercover cop had solicited her. She'd responded. That landed her in the clink for ten days. Then they released her. Her cell phone was returned to her. They put her with a bunch of other prisoners on a dark windowed bus and deported them all to Tijuana.

Of course, nothing fazed Judy. She took a cab from Tijuana to a point north where she knew the border fence was broken, slipped through the link fence in her tight mini skirt, and she was back into the USA. She walked down to the road, called a San Diego Cab to come to pick her up. The cabby drove her back to Los Angeles. The next night she was in my arms, in her pink bedroom with the shiny sheets, lying face down as I made sweet love to her lovely girlish ass. I didn't want to, but she always insisted I wore condoms when I penetrated her, she said it wasn't me she was worried about but,

"I've been with so so many guys. If I caught something, I wouldn't want to pass it to you."

For the next six months, I was happy, sexually satisfied. Our activities were private. I was employed by a very conservative bank that would not have appreciated my proclivities. I wasn' gay, I didn't like men for sex, but I had a thing for trannies, Judy was my mania.

We fucked, she sucked. Once I asked her if she wanted me to blow her.

"Oh no, don't go near that dirty thing. How could you even ask?"

On another occasion, I asked if she wanted to fuck me, I would try to comply. I had no idea what that might entail as I had never experienced it. She said that fucking me was out of the question, she could never do that. I wasn't desirous of being fucked, but I wanted to give her back any pleasure she might take from me. She had given me so much joy. Also, I figured her tiny cock couldn't do much damage to my virgin asshole.

Months later ate together and finished a bottle of sparkling wine. I was pursuing Judy, we ended on the bed. I held her down and tried to kiss her pussy. It was all in play. We were both high, laughing. She relaxed as I kissed and sucked her. The tiny pussy grew more than I'd expected. It became erect.

I told her, "You are so big, you could fuck me." I turned over, she rolled on top of me. I could feel her warm body, her naked breasts, her hot breath on my neck. For a moment, I thought she was poised to penetrate me. She just rubbed her "pussy" against my ass briefly and quit.

"Oh no, I can't do this," and jumped off the bed, running into the bathroom.

I chased after her. Judy was sobbing, red in the face. I kissed away her tears, walked her back into the bedroom, and fucked her as powerfully as I could. She seemed to enjoy that. Afterward, she was her usual self, laughing and smiling. I never tried that stunt again.

At Christmas time, we went shopping for a tree and plenty of ornaments. We put the big tree in her living room. There must have been hundreds of balls and flashing decorations. We even put a neon sign in the window. Nothing could have been more typical for the season. I asked her, pointing at the tree,

"Which balls are mine?"

"Yours is the only ball I want."

She laughed and laughed that full-throated high pitched musical laughter that I loved to hear, She was happy. I was happy. We were living in the best of worlds.

HOME FIRE ABLAZE

As enjoyable as Judy was, my own marriage was abysmal. My wife and I argued daily, but I can't even remember what the arguments were about. We still had frequent satisfactory sex, they say crazy women are the most sexual and Dora was both. At a certain point, the sex slowed down. A few weeks after, an old boyfriend of her's started calling on her. I figured she was meeting him behind my back. I couldn't have cared less.

One night I came home early. I heard some loud music coming from the bedroom, and there was an empty liquor bottle on its side on the living room table.

I tiptoed in, and I opened the bedroom door. There was Jerry, the guy she'd been dating when I met her. She was on all fours on our bed, and Jerry was busy fucking her, holding onto her breasts as he smashed into her vagina.

When he heard the door open, he looked back, saw me, and turned white. "Oh no," he exclaimed as he pulled his cock out. Jerry was fucking her bareback. Dora fell forward. I could see her ass was all red from the way he was slamming into her. My wife had always insisted I wear a condom, saying she wasn't ready to get pregnant. Maybe she wanted me to get stuck raising Jerry's kid?

Dora said nothing. She just lay there on her chest, hands on her head, as if she just had a bad dream. Me, like a fool, I was looking at Jerry's red cock and wondering if it was bigger than mine.

Jerry dressed quickly, putting his undershirt on backward. Even after all this time, his cock was still erect, and he had trouble stuffing his erection into his underwear. I suspected he was using viagra. I stood blocking the doorway. He had to pass me to leave. He glanced at me, zipped up his pants and said,

"Excuse me. Sorry dude."

I stepped aside to let him pass. I said nothing, although I could have beaten him to a pulp if I cared. I really didn't care.

After that night, Dora and I went back and forth on the subject of staying together. When you discover your wife in your bed with her old boyfriend, something goes out of the marriage that can't be regained. We continued to have sex, now more kinky than ever. I never wore a condom again. Sure, fucking without a rubber felt much better, but I'd pull out at the last minute and cum all over her belly. If I could have jumped quick enough, I'd have cum on her face. I did land on her tits more than once. Ejaculating in her face would have been too disrespectful? Even if she was a cheater, she was still my wife, and I knew in my heart of hearts, I was no better. I had no intention of getting her pregnant.

I'd decided to use her sexually every possible way. I encouraged her to get her drunk on a few occasions. She'd got high on Vodka and smoked a joint, I never knew where she got them. When I saw she was far gone, I decided to introduced her to anal, something we'd talked about but never performed. It got kind of messy, but I didn't care. I knew the relationship was over. It was my gift to Jerry, breaking in her asshole. In her drunken stupor, she seemed to like it. I felt terrible, I'd taken advantage of her, but she had it coming. As I was fucking her, she started moaning, "Jerry Jerry," and I realized maybe I wasn't the first.

Of course, I still continued to see Judy. We didn't get together as frequently, but I spoke to her on her cell phone. I discussed my marital problems. She was very supportive.

After six weeks of Dora and I could see there was no future for us. She decided to go back to Jerry. In a week, she was gone. My cousin, an attorney, suggested a straightforward course of action. Before she left, we both signed the California Eazy Divorce papers. In six months, the marriage was annulled or whatever the legal term was. Now we were both free.

A NEW LIFE LOOMS AHEAD

Judy and I were ecstatic.

"Now, we can be together all the time," said Judy.

"Yes, darling, how good that will be. Will you give up your work?

"Of course," she said, "I only want to be with you. I could even go back to school, I used to be an excellent student."

"Yes, that would be wonderful."

I continued my affair with Judy, seeing almost every evening. I felt like a weight was lifted from my back. Our romance began to flower. We both were seriously in love. The casual period was over. Judy stopped prostituting herself. I gave her a weekly allowance to make it easier for her to pay her bills. I even took her shopping several times and bought her shoes and clothing.

We started talking about who should move in with whom. We thought it best to abandon Judy's apartment since her clients, even if uninvited, would no doubt be calling on her at all hours of the night. My apartment was a possibility, but in the end, we decided to find a new place for a fresh start. We visited a few locations in West Hollywood, where gay or LGBTQ couples practicing "modern" sexual relationships were readily accepted as tenants. We had found one apartment we were interested in. A small modern building with a sizable third-floor apartment, two balconies, and two parking places.

I told Judy, "Wait and see, I'll teach you how to drive after we get you your green card."

"Can I get a pink car?"

"What else?"

I had to go out of town for the Thanksgiving weekend to deal with some family matters. I spent the night with Judy. Early in the morning, I took a "FlyAway Bus" out to the airport. All seemed perfect. But if you have lived as long as I have, you know the best of plans rarely goes without setbacks. Wasn't it the German philosopher who said, "Man plans and God laughs?" Well, something like that. Maybe it was Frank Sinatra?

THE END OF LIFE AS WE KNEW IT

We didn't know a bombshell was headed our way. It wasn't my fault, it wasn't Judy finding another lover, it was something beyond our control. We were ready to put down a deposit on the apartment on Monday when I'd return. The next day out of the blue, I got her call. She sounded very serious, as serious as a heart attack.

"I'm going to tell you something, and after that, you may not want to see me anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"I had blood tests done last week. I just got the results. I am HIV positive. You should get tested too."

"I don't care. I'll take care of you. I promise you, nothing will change."

"No, I'm not going to fuck up your life. I'm going back home and then maybe to France. They have some new drugs. I have a lot of money saved up, so it's no problem. That friend of mine, Lara, the girl you met, wants to come with me. We'll be ok.

"Judy, please don't go. Don't leave me. I love you. I need you."

"It's better this way. I'm sorry. I love you too, but I can't put you through this. I've made up my mind. Goodbye."

I repeatedly tried to call her, but her cell phone number no longer worked. When I got back to LA, I cabbed immediately to her apartment, but it was already empty with a "For Rent" sign on the entry door.

I got tested for HIV, actually twice. I was negative.

OLD HABITS DIE HARD

Several months passed. The weather was warmer. I guess the long self-imposed period of abstinence was coming to an end. My hormones must have been working overtime. I could not control myself. I drove around looking at the "girls" along the street. I went to have a late-night dinner at the famous "Klondike," a gay transsexual restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard that was later torn down and replaced by a giant "Trader Joe" store.

Outside the "Klondike," I saw the blonde Brazillian transsexual, Giselle. She seemed calmed down. I invited her to dinner, and we talked. She explained that at the time I'd first met her, she had moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles. A Russian, who had had been charming, promised to marry her. It turned out that his only interest was in being her pimp and turning her into a sex slave. One night he drugged Giselle, bound her hands and feet, and dragged her into a tenement basement. He intended to train her to do as he ordered.