Ken and Ayala Ch. 03

Chapter 3 – Cleansing

I'm glad we ended up at her place and not mine the night before. It's amazing how much cleaner women's apartments always were compared to mine. Especially their bathrooms.

Her bathroom was your typical girl's bathroom. There was a host of styling and makeup equipment arranged on the bathroom counter, and the room smelled of her sweet but subtle perfume. She had a cute-sy teddy bear theme going on with the decorations in the room, from the wallpaper to the towels to the soap dish. (mental note: she likes teddy bears, never know when that might come in handy!) In the bathtub, there was about fifteen different kinds of shampoo and conditioner and whatever else, something I guessed that beautiful women with long, soft, shimmering raven hair needed to keep their hair, well . . . soft and shimmering.

"Wow," I exclaimed. "Thank goodness I'm a guy. I could never put up with having to use this much shampoo."

"Oh, you big dork, shut up! You love my hair. Admit it, Ken, you looove my hair. You looove it, you loooooove it," she chimed melodically as she poked me in the chest with a challenging demeanor, then started twirling a few strands of her beautiful hair as if to emphasize her point.

"Okay, okay! I loooove your hair," I imitated her tone. "And in fact, beautiful lady, it's sexy as hell. All I'm saying is that I'm glad I don't have to deal with all the shampoo and conditioner and hairstyling that goes with it!" I poked her in her firm stomach and, as she opened her mouth to protest, I leapt in for a kiss.

"Mmmm," was her response to my liplocking, as she kissed back and closed her beautiful, brown eyes.

We finally stopped, and she winked. "So Mister, are you just going to stand there naked, or jump in the shower with me and let me wash your back? You're pretty dirty, you know." Turning around and brushing her cute firm butt against my cock, she turned the shower's hot water on and stepped into the bathtub.

"I know." I sat there, staring at her body for a second, admiring it in all its beauty. Her raven hair, rolling down to her shoulders in gentle waves. Her cute facial features with a smile that could melt an iceberg. Her well defined but appropriately curvy body, an hourglass figure that portrayed her soft, feminine touch, accompanied by muscular and slender arms and legs that I couldn't keep my hands off of. Her rock-hard abs. Her perfect size C breasts that made me want to drop my jaw every time I caught a glimpse of them.

I eagerly followed her into the bathtub with a silly schoolboy grin on my face. What had I ever done to deserve her?

She was standing with her back to the shower, streams of water cascading down her sculpted physique. I stood there, facing her, with jets of water bouncing off her shoulders and landing on my chest. I raised my hand to her face to brush away the now wet hair that had fallen in front of her left eye, pushing it away from her face, then letting my hand caress her cheek. Her eyes closed, and I leaned in to kiss her wet lips. I felt like the luckiest man in the world, to have her tenderness, her warmth, her amazing body so close to me. Her olive complexion pressed against my dark tan complexion as we leaned in closer.

And as I leaned in to kiss this beautiful woman, the tip of my cock touched hers. Me, a straight man, and her, an amazingly attractive and feminine transgendered woman.

My cock, touching her cock.

That's all it ever took for us to go into overdrive.

She threw her arms around me and pulled me into her, as we kissed with incredible heat. The hot water only added to the passionate sexual blaze of our own bodies as we responded to each other, standing there in the shower. My hand wrapped around her waist and held her steady as one of her legs began to wrap itself around me. We thrust ourselves together, our cocks pressed hard against each other's bellies, as our tongues probed each other's mouths, desperately seeking to affirm our deep connection and to remind each other of our heat and passion. It was amazing . . . we had just made love before we even stepped foot into her bathroom, intending to wash up and go out for the night, but it seemed like neither of us were tired of fucking like rabbits and neither of us wanted to ever stop. I was wondering if we'd ever get our clothes back on and make it out tonight . . . I almost hoped we wouldn't . . .

Her cock hardened to its full length as it pressed against me, and she pulled away from me and let it brush past my own hard cock while stepping back into the water. Her head behind the flow of the shower, water splashed against my chest. She brought her hand up, tracing my pecs ever so slowly, so seductively, with a look of hunger in her eyes, starting to encircle my right nipple with her index finger. She started to massage my chest with both hands, squeezing my muscles, tweaking my nipples, while standing at just the perfect distance to let our cocks touch each other, softly, gently making contact and continuing to charge us with seemingly endless sexual electricity.

I was almost completely paralyzed with the pleasure I felt. I wouldn't have dreamed that our cocks touching would be enough to drive me to feelings of passion that most people can't imagine . . . but it seemed that Ayala had helped me to realize a new dream, to open my mind to her transsexual nature, and to make me realize that not only did it not take away from the connection we felt towards one another, but rather, it actually made it stronger and hotter.

Reveling in the feeling of Ayala's cock "kissing" mine, her hands caressing my chest, I thought I would return the attention she was giving to me. My arms traced up her firm musculature, starting on the insides of her thighs, while lingering dangerously close to her cock for several seconds (her cock that I wanted to jerk off so bad, to feel strings of her hot cum on my hands, to lick off of my fingers, but . . . I resisted for the time being); this caused Ayala to breathe in sharply, in anticipation of my touching her there, until I moved further up her body. I swept up past her tight abs and up to her tender breasts, which were so smooth and felt amazing to cup in my hands. I mimicked her movements, circling my fingers around her nipples, giving each one careful and gentle attention, and cupping her breasts and massaging them. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she took in the sensation, her hands faltering at my chest for a second as she felt the same passionate paralysis invade her own body. But she continued to knead my chest and trace her fingers across my figure.

Her fingers went down, down, down past my stomach and reaching my thighs. I did the same with her, to reflect her movements, but she aggressively slapped my hands away.

"No," she commanded, staring up into my eyes. I couldn't do anything but obey, and lose myself in the magic of her touch. She wanted to do me first . . .

She took my cock by her right hand, slipped around me deftly in the shower so that the water was hitting my back, and then knelt down and started to jerk me off. Her other hand picked up a washcloth and she began to press it against my back, deftly adding soap as she sudsed me up and started to wash my body while still expertly jacking my throbbing rod. Every now and again, she would use the cloth to play with my balls as I stood there and ran my fingers through her long, wet hair. My knees started knocking, it felt so good, with the warmth of the water on my back and her hands taking expert care of me . . . every inch of me . . . and I closed my eyes and took it all in.

I felt a sudden movement, and without warning she swallowed me, up to the hilt, in her mouth and began to bob her head as if the only thing she wanted to do or cared about was making me cum. It was unbelievable, how fast she took me in, and how amazing she was at sucking me down. She was so good at it, and I had no idea how it was possible for her to do the things with her mouth and her tongue and her fingers that she did to me. Even after having spent a whole day with her. I could feel the tip of my cock hitting the back of her throat again and again, and she continued to do it, so hungry for me that she didn't care what it took to make me cum.

What made it doubly amazing was that I saw her own cock, rigid with excitement and bouncing up and down, and the sight of it drove the fires of lust throughout my entire body.

And, what was even more amazing beyond that, was that I couldn't wait until the moment when I could do the same thing to her, make her cum into my own mouth and taste her. I couldn't ever forget how good she tasted, how incredible she felt throbbing in my mouth, as I was in hers right now.

I felt my body boiling over once again, surprised at how fast it came, and exploded into her. It went deep into her throat, and she didn't stop until every last bit of cum had been milked out of me. She wanted all of it, and she wouldn't let me back off for a second. I groaned loudly as she drained me of every last drop, and then I collapsed in front of her, sitting down in the shower, feeling oh so happy . . . and oh so spent.

She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "I think you liked that, huh?" She was giving me that wicked smile of hers, the one that appeared on her cute little face whenever she knew she had done something insanely hot or remarkably seductive.

"Yeah, you know, that was only the best I've ever had in my life . . ." I whispered, my breath still heaving from the steam of the shower and the heat of Ayala's passionate blowjob.

"I think, Mister, that you still need some cleaning . . . my sweet baby, come here," Ayala cooed, pulling me towards her and turning me around so I was again facing the showerhead but with my back resting on her body, her breasts pressing into my back, her legs open and her cock pressed firmly against my back. Her cock seemed to remind me of how hot she still was, and how I still wanted – no, needed – to make her feel my hunger for her as much as she had just done for me.

"I'm going to have to take care of that for you soon, beautiful." I pushed back against Ayala just a little bit so that she would feel some more pressure on her cock, and she sighed as if she couldn't wait.

"Mmmm, Ken, if you like the way I taste as much as I like the way you taste, then I can't wait to see you go at it. But I'm going to wash you off real quick, and then it's my turn, and then it's REALLY my turn . . . and I hope you swallow it all up, sexy." She flicked her tongue around my ear as if for emphasis, and it did the trick. I couldn't wait to taste her.

"Ayala, you have no idea how incredible you taste. And how much I want to taste you right now. So let's get each other soaped up and washed off so I can get at you and swallow you down . . ." I said with a hunger in my voice that reflected Ayala's own.

"Yes sir!" she gave me a quick salute, and we both chuckled.

She took the washcloth, lathered it up again with bath soap, and began to wash my body. She ran the towel against my chest, in large circles, around my pecs, circling down to touch my stomach and close to my cock, which was already springing back to attention despite the workout it had received all day today. I turned my head to look at her face as she rubbed me down, and I saw the most tender smile on the face looking back at me. It was incredible, how she could be so hot, passionate, and devilishly sexy one minute, bringing me to new levels of passion that I never imagined possible with another human being . . . and then the next minute, she could be so sweet, caring, and sensitive, washing me off gently with one hand gently stroking my hair. She knew how to take care of me, knowing full well that I would protect her and support her as well.

I had never felt this way about a woman before. Ayala and I had spent the last day in bed together, but we had also spent it talking, sharing things that neither of us had shared with others before, and showing each other the compassion beyond our passion and lust. I always felt vulnerable around people, when trying to open up to them and become closer to them . . . and now, suddenly, I was afraid that opening up to her would lead me to pain and hurt, as it had with other women who I had trusted completely . . . but something in Ayala's eyes just made me want to let go of all the pain and hurtful experiences of the past and share my connection with her, my caring and my passion.

She could see it before it started happening . . . the single tear, falling from my eye. How she could tell with the shower on, I had no idea. She was just that good, that attuned to my feelings and emotions somehow. She reached out with her finger and caught it as it trickled down my cheek.

"Baby, what's wrong? Ken?" she asked gently, sounding very worried, and holding me close.

"I just . . . I've never had this feeling with anyone be- . . . My god, I feel like such a baby, for tearing up here, now, in front of you," I whined.

"Tell me, Ken. I'm here, tell me whatever it is. I don't care if you tear up in front of me . . . but I do care if I can make them stop. If you're willing to tell me?" Ayala wrapped her arms around me and just held me. She laid no pressure on me at all, just a warming and comforting embrace. I leaned my head back on her shoulder as she rubbed her cheek against my forehead and looked at me.

"Ayala . . . I never believed in it after her. After Sandra. My ex. I never believed that I could ever trust anyone again, that I could even fall for a girl ever again . . . and I had almost convinced myself that I could never feel this way about a person, didn't think that I could connect with anyone ever again, thought that maybe it was all make-believe and that people only really cheated on each other and screwed each other over and never really supported or cared for each other, ever. I had given up on people, Ayala. I never told anyone else about this, but my ex, Sandra, never showed a bit of remorse, never did anything after I caught her fucking my friend, my BEST friend, except for laughing in my face and running away. I caught her doing it – saw it in front of my own eyes. But after that, she acted as if I was the one that had done something wrong, even though I had treated her with love and respect from the first day I met her. Ever since, I've never become close to anyone. Never trusted anyone. If someone who I thought I loved could betray me like that, then how could I? I've been a loner all my life, and even more so after her . . .

"I was disgusted with her, but I was more disgusted with myself for letting myself fall in love with her. Letting my guard down. And then, people telling me to just get over it, that it didn't matter. But it did matter and no one understood. I just . . ."

Ayala looked at me, inquisitively, wondering what I was going to say next but knowing that it had to do with her.

"It's just that, you make me feel so warm, comfortable, make me feel like I need to be with you, protect you and let you care for me. But I'm so afraid to do so. I'm so afraid, Ayala. It hurts to open up to you, after my ex-girlfriend messed with my head and broke down my humanity. But, on top of that, you come from a different family and background, I don't even know if your family would accept me or if mine would even care to talk to me about it. And finally, because, even though it feels so good and so right, you're . . . different . . . from other women . . . and I'm just not sure if that's okay yet . . .

"I know, I know, I need to be stronger, I need to just get over it and let myself open up to you, and that's what I'm trying to do right now. But I'm scared, babe. Too many bad things have happened to me, and I've seen too many bad things happen to people like us. I'm not so sure I'm supposed to feel the way I do about you . . . whether because you're not my ethnicity or religion or culture or because you're not a genetic girl. I'm not sure I'm supposed to feel as hot and as caring towards you as you have been making me ever since I saw you . . . even though it's like an instinct to feel sexy with you, it's like second nature to want to hold you and protect you." I couldn't believe I had just told her all that, and felt ashamed to have crumbled so visibly in front of her, in her arms.

Ayala laid my head against the wall of the tub, my cheek resting on her upper arm, as she looked straight into my eyes. She didn't look angry for me telling her that I wondered if we were right. She didn't look sad or scared about what my dirty past might do to our newfound connection, or burgeoning relationship. No – she looked confident, and strong, and sure, which is what I needed from her in that very instant, that very second, to get my own footing back.

"Ken, you've been hurt before, and that's not something that you can just forget about, just get over. It takes time, and it takes compassion from others. I feel so glad that you told me about Sandra. And I will never betray your trust, Ken. Never! You're too important, too precious to me for me to ever allow anything to happen to you, much less hurt you or backstab you. I want you to be able to tell me everything, and I want you to know that I'll do the same with you.

"My ex-boyfriend taught me how hard it is to find someone to trust, too, Ken. Greg hurt me, hit me, abused me. It was wrong, and I can't believe that I stayed with him for as long as I did." Ayala's voice quavered for a second, but she resumed her confident tone.

"That's why this feeling, this feeling of being safe with you, it's amazing, and I almost tried to fight it at first because I had stopped trusting men, but you're too genuine, too real . . . you're right here, being held by me, telling me about your past and your feelings . . . it's got to be the truth. You really do care about me to tell me so much.

"I know that it will be tough for us to be together, with our different families and backgrounds, my Jewish culture and your Asian culture. It will be hard. And I've always known that it would be hard for me as a transgendered woman to be with anyone and have a relationship with the two-point-five kids and the dog and the white picket fence. Fairy tales just don't happen to people like me, to people like us. But I know that I want to make it happen, if you are ready to tough it out with me, all the bad that will come with this good. I want to try, and I want to fight for you. You're important enough to me to make this happen. I know that it'll be worth it. I've felt it on so many levels . . . whether it's in seeing you stand up for me against the rest of the world, whether it's with you being the perfect gentleman and making me feel comfortable every step of the way, whether it's been the fiery kisses that we've shared, the unbelievable sex that I never thought I would have with a beautiful straight man like you . . . there's that connection, Ken, deep inside, I can't put my finger on it but it's there and it's strong and I know it's worth it.

"But you need to tell me, right now, right here, if you don't want to do this, if you're not willing to fight for us and make this happen. I know, deep down inside, that you want this, because I've seen you care for me, stand up for me, and even almost get into a fight for me. And, as far as me being not like other women, well, your body's already spoken to that."

She brushed her hand down my thigh, and my cock, untouched, responded with a jolt.

"Very, ahem, conspicuously, I think we could say." She gave me a warm smile, which I returned weakly. "As far as you feeling hot about me and my body . . . listen to yourself, listen to your own body, look at it, see how you react to me, Ken. Not to be arrogant, but you can't keep your hands of me, baby. Or your mouth! Off of any part of me, even the parts you said you were unsure of." She rubbed noses with me.