The Tranny Lover - Judy, Judy, Judy

"My hands and feet were tied to the bed frame. All during my captivity, the Russian kept pushing pills in my mouth. I don't know what he gave me. I felt paralyzed through it all. Sometimes I wake up and realize I was in the middle of being sexually assaulted. The men raping me laughed and called me a faggot whore.

For several days. The Russian would bring several clients at a time to fuck her, both day and night. The group, mostly sailors, would sit, watch, smoking cigarettes. When one man was finished, the next one would shove his pissy cock in her mouth or ass. No one wore condoms. From comments Giselle heard, she learned that the pimp advertised her with nude photos into a sex newspaper. Now he was breaking her in and selling her.

Several men who she was forced to service weren't even paying customers. They were often half-drunk men the pimp had met in a bar. She was infuriated he was offering her up for free. I thought her anger, wanting payment to be made while she was being raped, was ironic. I said nothing.

While her captor was drunk and snoring, Giselle escaped one morning. She untied herself, stole his wallet, and naked, climbed out through a broken bathroom window, grabbed some damp clothing from a clothesline behind the building, and made her escape. Returning to her rented room, she recovered her documents and rushed to the bus station. Still fearful the Russian or his cohorts might stop her, Giselle caught the next bus to Hollywood.

Giselle explained that she had been suffering from this horrendous episode a few weeks before I met her. Now she seemed like a different person. Subsequently, I started to see her once a week, if only to relieve my overactive gonads.

I was very horny after months of abstinence, the first time we had sex. I might have been less nervous if I had masturbated, but I considered "spanking the monkey" was a childish activity. Mature men had sex with a woman or a substitute, not five fingers. When I started making love to Giselle, I foolishly tried to imagine she was Judy. We were back at her little apartment when we disrobed. I mounted her to initiated the sex act. After four or five minutes of struggling that familiar tightening in my balls was absent, I realized I was not going to be to consummate the act.

Finally, I withdrew. Tired of my folly, Giselle got up from the bed, said nothing, and headed for the bathroom. As soon as she returned, desire flooded back to me. I ran to her, spun her around, and fucked her standing up without a condom. The sexual act was completed quickly. I continued thrusting into her, even after I came, for as long as my erection remained. She was excited. I could see she'd come from the fucking, her penis was wet with dripping sperm.

My own need to ejaculate was accomplished, I had been desperate. Giselle was pleased by my spontaneity. I'd left a sizable deposit inside her. Smiling at me, her hand patted her ass and held her wet cock with the other and returned to douche once more. I followed her into the shower. We stood together, the hot water creating the effect of a steam bath.

Giselle, almost motherly, soaped my large balls, sticky with the cum overflow from fiercely banging her ass. Then sprayed warm water with soap into her rear. Moving close to my ear, she said,

"I'm not just another fuck anymore, am I? " she said. "What changed?"

"I came to my senses, I realized you were special."

She smiled and stepped closer to kiss me.

TURNING TABLES

That was when she moved behind me and embraced me. I felt her warm penis pressing against me. I glanced in the mirror and saw she was erect. She took her cock in hand and shook it, it was a little bigger than mine. Then she said, "Now, I fuck you?"

My eyes opened wide, I hadn't expected that. It was not within the parameters of my idea of a woman, but her transsexuality had trumped my illusions. In fairness of our activities, I accepted.

"Oh, not tonight, I'd have to prepare for you. I thought you came?"

"I did, but I am young and I can cum more than once."

"That is an exceptional talent. Ok, I promise, next time you can fuck me.

"I want to fuck you and fill you with my cum and then watch it drip out of your big ass."

"My ass is not big," I said. I was not flabby. Giselle had a beautiful boyish ass, I preferred that in women. Big curvy asses were a thing for the future. My preference was for tall thin girls, with large breasts and a small ass? Well, I thought, maybe I did have a big ass?

When Giselle and I made love, it wasn't loving, it was fucking. Our sex was that of two athletes, prepared to act and compete right to the finish line. It was not the generous act of lovers. She wasn't cold, or without feelings; but our sex was a pursuit of pleasure.

"Oh, your ass is so big," she teased me, "Poppi, big enough for me to fuck you good. I make you cum out your dick when I fuck you in the ass." I was to learn her penis was capable of a considerable amount of semen, much more than mine. The more she implored me, the more the idea seemed manageable.

Rather than make a bigger fool of myself, attempting something I had no experience in. I knew if I was the penetrated "bottom" rather than the penetrator "top," it would be an area I knew nothing about. I proceeded to research in books and on the newly available internet. I bought an 8-inch dildo that looked and felt like a real penis. In the privacy of my own apartment, I douched repeatedly, lubed myself, and experimented. I inserted a lubed 8inch dildo that looked to be equal in size to Giselle's. Once mastered, I learned to place a smaller butt plug to keep my rectum open in anticipation of Giselle's large penis slipping inside me without difficulty. I was preparing for Gisselle to fuck me. I was going to let her have her way with me.

I learned being a bottom required much preparation. Being fucked was a far different sensation than fucking. A "top" needed only a hard-on. Once a "top" experiences the pleasure of ejaculation, a feeling of peace and relaxation occurred. If ejaculation is not the prime object in intercourse, a bottom's erotic pleasure can last much longer. A patient lover could prolong the act with self-control or using erectile aids.

I learned that anal sex, whether performed slowly or rapidly, could be very pleasurable. Giselle's massive penis was capable of producing an exquisite sensation. Often I could feel as if she was still inside me the next day. While Giselle would fuck me with powerful strokes, my cock would leak sperm. I was never able to ejaculate. I felt sure it was something that would occur with more experience.

During our relationship, I let her penetrate me as often as she wanted too, but always with a condom. This was not enough to satisfy her. She always insisted that she wanted to fuck me bareback. I was uneasy with this, fearful of disease. I knew she had many sexual encounters and that even the best condoms can break or dissolve with improper lubricants. Was allowing Giselle to fuck me, a form of penitence?

"No, you have to wear something," I'd insist.

I admit her big uncut dick looked savage when erect. It looked like what I'd once seen when a dog mounted a bitch. It was blood red, sinuous, and veiny, twisting to the left in an upward curve, unlike any penis I'd ever seen. It was raw sex. While she was fucking me, it felt like a dagger of flesh and bone. Once she'd pulled off the condom and continued fucking me. Yes, it felt much better raw and naked. I let her play but insisted that she was not to cum. It was too risky, but Giselle was persistent and intent on accomplishing it. I wondered if fucking me and others was a form of therapy, a balm for when she was held captive and raped repeatedly.

At a certain point, I realized she could become quite dominant, or that she might rip off the condom and fuck me to full completion. This was a fear that led me to stop seeing her. On more than one occasion, she had shoved her way inside me without a condom. Since ours was purely a sexual relationship, a business arrangement, not a love match, little by little, our meetings took place at longer durations. Our eventual separation was not traumatic. Our last tryst took place before my business trip to Japan and was oddly a precursor that prepared me.

BATTOFAKKUDO - A JAPANESE LESSON

Our bank, my employer, was being absorbed into a mega Japanese holding company. As the overseas fund coordinator, my bosses wanted me to travel to Tokyo to meet with Matsumo Hirohito, the President of the Japanese firm, also a distant relative of the Japanese royal family. When I arrived at the airport, I was met by Matsumoto's daughter, Emika. She was an attractive Harvard educated young woman in her twenties. She was to be my translator, and much more. It was her job to prepare me to understand how business and social dynamics interplay in the Eastern Empire.

She obviously enjoyed her role. Within two days, we were having sex. She explained to me that sex in Asia should be viewed as one would consider attending a banquet and trying new foods. Eating is pleasurable, a new sexual experience is unique. Love was not a requirement for sex. Consummation of sex with those in your workplace was universal and created bonds between employees. Bosses had sex with their secretaries and still met socially with their husbands at company social functions. Positions of hierarchy took precedent.

In brief, Emika was there to mentor my initiation into the company, which meant her father. If I failed to please Matsumoto, my employment contract would be terminated. If I was able to please him, my personal wealth and longevity with the company would increase by many times.

Finally, two weeks later, I was scheduled to be interviewed by her father and several high executives. Emika cautioned me.

"Understand, my father is a powerful man who adheres to the ancient Samurai code. Do not offend him by refusing any liberties he might take with you." I nodded my head but didn't quite understand what she meant.

I met with her father, who was my superior. Through a translator schooled in banking and economic terms, we discussed the bank's practices and the current state of currency law. A legal advisor seated with us informed me of the Japanese regulations and any potential conflicts. I took copious notes and asked many detailed questions. At the end of the seven-hour interview, broken only for a light lunch, I could tell by the bosses concluding expressions and laughter that the conversation had gone well.

"Today we work, tomorrow we relax," said Mr. Matsumo Hirohito, through his translator.

The next morning I was escorted to the executive baths. I was nude, except for a thick cotton bathrobe. An older woman employee took the robe and washed me from my head to my feet with scalding water. I squatted in a sitting position as a manicurist cut and filed my fingernails and toenails. A barber came next to tidy up my long hair and pull it back with a knot.

The next stage in this ritual was a massage. An attractive young woman who remained expressionless busied herself for the first hour. With her strong hands, she oiled and massaged every part of my body. After the first hour, I became alarmed by the erotic natures of the massage. She began to rub my ass cheeks and introduced a warm stone into my butt. She spread my legs and reset my feet within the parameters of the table. I had positioned my feet for comfort, she lifted them and placed them inside the table. The massaged began again, from my thighs all the way up to my ball sack, touching it lightly. Then she reached under my body and massaged my balls and my cock, which responded with a quick erection.

I was sure she intended to roll me over to finish the act, but instead, she let me continue to lie face down on the massage table, which was cut out to allow my face to fit snugly. During the massage, she would sit on my back, rubbing her breasts against me, dismount, exit briefly, and return with hot oils to rub into me. This time the hands felt larger and stronger. When whoever it was sat on me, I realized I had a new masseuse. Someone was pressing against me. I could feel a wispy mustache against my neck. I realized my boss, Mr. Hirohito, had taken over and was going to initiate me into the company by fucking me.

I could feel his cock between my legs, not unlike experiences I'd had months before with Giselle. My rectum was well oiled, he withdrew the warm stone and slipped his phallus inside me. His length seemed to penetrate me without much problem, but his girth, once he'd gotten 3 or 4 inches inside, did cause pain. Sensing my discomfort and aware of my refusal to deny him, he proceeded slowly until all his naked cock was inside me. I imagined there were eight inches in all, a more than respectable measure. With a series of sharp thrusts, Matsumo's balls slamming into my backside, I could feel his cock pulsating as he filled the deep cavity with his sperm.

I never whimpered or looked back. Finally, Matsumoto finished, as he withdrew his massive organ it leaked sperm all over my ass. He paused to rub his secretions first into my ass and then into my hair.

He grunted, said something in Japanese, it sounded like "Battofukkudo," and then he lifted off of me and left the room. The masseuse returned with warm towels and washed me down and rolled me over. My erection had not subsided, she oiled it, and with 30 seconds of rapid strokes, she masturbated me. Another damp hot towel was used to cleanse, and then the initiation was over. I left Tokyo two days later, with no further discussion. My position in the company was secure for many years.

LIFE GOES ON

It seemed that the months began to pass like days on the calendar. The years moved on at a frightening speed. My sexual needs did not diminish. If anything, they increased. Giselle called to tell me that a client had proposed. She wanted to get married. Would I marry her? I explained I'd been there, done that, I wasn't ready to do it again. I didn't tell her that I would have to be head over heels in love to even consider it. She accepted the proposal and moved to Aspen, Colorado. I still get Christmas cards with her in a sexy ski outfit.

After my return, I was as a bee fertilizing anyone who passed before me. I met and tried to find love with many other women, preferring Japanese and Chinese women. I became very fond of several of them who answered my needs in various ways. I had long monogamous relationships, but there was always something missing.

GONE GIRL GONE?

Whatever became of Judy, the first and most fascinating of my many sexual partners. She was the most perfect, the one I had wanted to spend my life with.

Sady, I never again heard from Judy. More than 15 years had passed, Judy was still on my mind. I was driving through her old neighborhood early one Sunday morning, and to my surprise and shock, I saw what looked like Judy and her girlfriend. They were carrying a laundry basket, a small child was clinging to the woman's leg.

Judy no longer had her long blond hair. She looked older and more substantial. Her big chest was covered with a heavy sweatshirt. I wanted to stop immediately, but there was a car close behind. I let it pass, but in the blink of an eye, the three seemed to disappear. Maybe it was a mirage? I wanted to think it was real. Unconvinced it was a hallucination, I returned several times at different hours and scoured the neighborhood. I never was able to find them.

Six months had passed. It was Christmas time. I decided to go downtown to pick some gifts for the bank employees and their children, neighbors who live in my building. After an hour, my arms laden with several bags of perfume and candies. I felt dehydrated. I passed a small bodega and pushed the glass door open to purchase something to drink. A dark-haired woman stood behind the counter.

"Do you have a diet coke," I asked.

She handed me a can warm to the touch.

"Do you have a cold one?"

She said something in Spanish and hefty person came out who spoke with a familiar Spanish accent...

"I just put those in the fridge, the ones in the back are cold."

I handed back the warm can and was given a cold one. That was when the other person was Judy. Older, plumper, more masculine but with the same musical voice and tiny nose. Her long brown hair was swept back and tied in a knot, tinges of gray sprinkled throughout. I was sure it was Judy. There were the same blue eyes.

"Is that you, Judy?"

She recognized me and came quickly from behind the counter to embrace me.

"Lara, don't you remember, it's my friend from the old place."

Lara smiled but said nothing.

A small child stood next to her holding her hand.

"I worried so much about you Judy, can I call you Judy?"

"Of course, pointing at the child, that's our little girl Lucinda, she'll be 6 years old in a month."

"I'm so happy to have found you and to know things have worked out so well for you both."

"And for you?" said Judy.

"Life has never been the same for me since you left."

We looked at each other. I was visualizing Judy as she appeared years ago when our lovemaking made my world rosy and complete. I focused on her eyes, still that lovely blue color. I was seeing her not as she was, but as she had looked 15 years before. A tiny tear trickled down from my right eye.

Judy stepped forward to embrace me.

"I've missed you so much," I whispered.

"I only left because I loved you," she whispered back.

Lara looked on suspiciously.

Judy broke the silence.

"Now that you know where we are, please stop and say hello."

"Oh, I will. How much do I owe you for the drink?"

"Don't be ridiculous, there is no charge."

I didn't ask a lot of questions, there was no need. There was nothing we could have said that would have altered the pain I suffered for the long lost years. She was the anchor point that changed the directory of my existence.

The next month I stopped briefly to dropped off a giant Teddy Bear and a big box of chocolates for Lucinda's birthday. I know Judy always loved the candies.

I've been fortunate in business. I hope to discuss with Judy and Lara if they would permit me to establish a trust fund for Lucinda. Should the child someday decide to go to college or go into business, she'd have a nest egg. I feel some strange connection to their child.

Judy, Judy, Judy...

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