I had started a thread about tops banging trans girls who are as hot or hotter than cis girls, but no one participated. Mods, feel free to lock or delete that thread, if you find it redundant.
Finally, I decided to do my own story, since no one else would start. "Esme" was received decently, but I felt it was buried in that thread, in that section, and fits better here.
If Esme gets good response here, I'll write a sequel story where I fucked two girls-- one cis one trans-- both arty but hot, who were cousins (or claimed to be). If that does well, I've got more. It's not hard remembering, but these take a surprisingly long time to type. So its only worth it, if there's an audience. Even then, because of work and personal relationships, sequels may not come like clockwork. But if there's an audience, I'll try.
**All characters in this story are age 18 or over**
**This story is not autobiographical, except when I made it appear autobiographical, as an in-joke **
"When our enemies deceive us, when our friends betray us, we are not to be consoled. Yet we feel nothing, nothing at all, when we deceive and betray ourselves." -De La Rochefoucauld, Maxims
"I fake it so real, I am beyond fake..." - Hole, Courtney Love, Live Through This
When I was younger I was a narcissistic jerk. I convinced a girl to move to Los Angeles with me by letting her think I was I love with her.
Right after the move, I took a job working night security at a well-known building in Hollywood, until I could get something better that was at least half-reliable.
When I would drive home I'd often stop at this little taco stand around Santa Monica and Highland, that was also in a strip mall with a 24hr store where I'd buy alcohol and whippets (nitrous oxide), porn, whatever.
I should say that now that we were here (in LA), my girlfriend had way, way less value to me. She was ok looking, she looked like that girl who played Mary Jane in the Toby McGuire spider-man movies, but she never really turned me on. She was the kind of girl who liked cosplay, and her art sucked. Not sexy, whatever her looks.
I'd still service her, and make her cum, and trick her into thinking I cared about her, but looked at it basically like a chore, almost worse than taking out the garbage, because I had to act like I liked fucking her, and I didn't have to pretend to the garbage.
I'm still good looking now, but back then I was positively handsome; for a mental picture, I looked a lot like Jeremy Meeks, that ex con who became a successful model, and minor cultural icon; he eventually married a fairly hot wine heiress. Google him.
Anyway, there were a group of girls, pretty obviously trans, and I assumed hookers, who used to hang out by the taco stand. Most of them looked kind of ok, but there was one who was very, very beautiful, I thought. An eight or even a weak nine on a scale of ten. I love Latinas, and while I prefer Puerto Rican to Mexican (generally different body types, culture, style) this chick really did it for me. Maybe she wasn't Mexican.
She looked like a lot like Zoe Kravitz, but taller, maybe 5'7'', 5'8'', with long straight, natural black hair parted down the mziddle.
When I walked by they started wolf-whistling, giggling amongst each other, and typical "what's your name, sexy?" type comments.. I sort of played it shy, smiling to let them know I was flattered but not flirting back really.
I was still on fairly good behavior. I had only cheated on my girlfriend once in the couple months before we left, and that's because I thought the girl was super hot and sexy (she looked like a way young version of the redhead from Zero Dark Thirty, but with a very short punkish haircut) and my girlfriend had moved out of town (at that time) back to her parents to save money and prepare for our move.
I didn't want to cheat, because I wanted her to move out with me. I didn't want to go alone and I knew no one on LA. I was sort of in that habit still, but I was in a stronger position now with her. She was on the lease with me, her parents consigned, she really couldn't leave whatever I did, without fucking herself up. So I didn't worry about her catching me cheating that much anymore.
So I drove to the taco stand at like 1am on my "lunch" break, or maybe I wasn't working, and needed to pick up booze and whippets for a party, I can't remember, and the girls were there and giggling and whispering to themselves as I walked by, and I made strong eye contact with that one beautiful girl. She was flirting but not as aggressively as the others, she knew how good she was.
I didn't really do anything else, I had to get back to wherever I had been sent from, that I can no longer remember. But that kind of eye contact breaks the ice; she knew I wanted her. I was handsome, so a standard move with a chick that I knew I'd see again was just let her know I liked her, let her think about it, then when I saw her again if she was interested it was easy for me, if not, whatever.
After I got home at 7am, from either work or a party, I said goodbye to my girlfriend as she went to work at her tacky-but-high-end hotel (I think it had a french name that translated into "red rose" or something) in her vaguely futuristic looking concierge uniform, that she hated. I took a shower, changed my clothes, then I think I had to run errands or something. I parked to put mail in a box or something, and I look and standing like ten feet away is the gorgeous trans girl just staring at me.
It was now broad daylight, this was not at all by the strip mall where I usually saw her (same neighborhood, but blocks away) and she was alone.
I smiled and went up to her:
"Hey, you're alone..."
She kept smiling back and was just like "Yup."
I really don't have great game. I like to keep it simple and truthful (when possible) with complements and come ons. Rely on my looks and a sense of mystery.
"You're really, really beautiful," I said. "I've wanted to talk you, but you were always surrounded by that gang and I was usually on my way to somewhere..."
"They'd be jealous if they knew I was talking to you here..."
I told her I was Jean-Patrice and she said she was Esme (not our real names). I told her I wanted to stand by my car, which was by a hydrant or something. I didn't want a ticket or to even talk to a fucking cop.
We went over and she was like "We don't have to stand here like hobos. We can get in if you want."
I knew then that something was going to very likely happen. I got rock hard. I'm uncut, so my foreskin pulled over my glans and that feels a little rough against your underwear because it's so sensitive, but it also feels so fucking good when the blood rushes fast into your dick like that. And the fact that you're probably going to fuck soon.
We got in the car and I said if she liked to party I had crystal and herb and percocet and adderall, and really high end tequila (I also had coke, but l liked to save that for me if possible), or I could take her to brunch, maybe even to the beach or an early movie, museum or whatever she wanted-- but I don't pay to fuck. I just don't. (one of my greatest fears was being arrested, and whether it was paranoia or what, I wasn't doing this if it was a trick/hoe thing)
"Don't worry about paying or any of that shit. It's sunlight out now."
That was sort of a weird statement, and I didn't ask her what she meant. She did say "You know the deal with me right?," and she pulled my hands down to the crotch of her shorts and kept them there. I couldn't feel her dick at all. I said "Yeah. I do. You turn me on." I bent down and kissed the crotch of her shorts, then ran my tongue over it, then I kept my mouth there and pressing my lips up against the cloth, puckering up, started blowing hot breath right into her crotch, and alternating with strong licks with the flat of my tongue while making eye contact. I could see she was very, very hot and bothered. Her eyes were almost rolling into the back of her head. I Don't know why I didn't see it before, but I suddenly realized she was probably already on something. She said: "I want to go to your place with the tequila and the crystal and whatever you keep for your girls there. I want to party with you."
The car was already running, so I just pulled out. I put on my seatbelt. She didn't. I don't know why I remember that.
++++++ end part 1
She asked what race/color I was like everybody always did. I found it uncomfortable and annoying. And some chicks (not a lot) who were interested stopped when they found out I was half black.
"I'm whatever you want to think I am," I said.
"That's very cool," she said, kind of dreamy.
My place was an apt complex shaped like a U, the apts faced each other, and the blinds didn't block shit out of the living rooms. The driveway was down the middle, and the parking spaces were in back.
I wanted to sneak her in because my neighbors were tighter with my girlfriend than me. I could hang, but I was basically a loner. I used to sit alone in the dark, sipping brandy and making up stories, hoping no one would think I was home.
But it was the day and a lot.of the mole people were at work. I considered taking her to a motel but then I just didnt. The expense, I had all my shit at my place anyway, and I didn't really know any motels used for fucking there in LA (yet).
When we got in she realized I had a girlfriend pretty quick. I told her we were Friends with Benfits more than girlfriend/boyfriend, which was the truth-- except I didn't really want the benefits.
We still didnt have much furniture, I took her into the bedroom because they would have been able to see us through the blinds in the living room.
We couldn't do it on our bed my girlfriend and I shared, she'd notice. So I laid down a sleeping bag for us to sit on. I brought in my patron tequila anejo , percocet, crystal meth, a lot of adderall, some lsd hits that were a mild pleasant high, some coke for myself that I hoped she wouldn't ask for, and my girlfriend's weed.
She immediately took an adderall and knocked it back with a double shot of anejo. I told her if she liked them, she could keep more for later, I had a lot of them (and I didn't like them.) My girlfriend did, but they made her annoyingly wired; so I didn't care about giving them away to a good home. She looked up at me gratefully and pretty impressed. She took like four out of the 30 I had, and when she saw I didn't care, took a another four and added them all to an altoids tin which already had one largish greenish pill in it which I guessed was ecstasy.
Now I wished I'd traded the adderall for the X, but now that I'd given them, I felt couldn't change the game, not only because I wanted to fuck this girl, but because even though I was a liar, when I specifically promised something, or gave my word, I'd often keep it to the letter. This is because narcissism can create a kind of fake honor. You keep your word not because others may rely on what you've said, but because it's Your word. You matter most in the world, so your Word must matter. When I lied, which was very, very often, it was usually by clever omission, letting people think things that weren't true and not ever correcting them. Like my girlfriend who thought I was in love with her when i wasn't, and never really said I was (I did sign all my mail to her "Love, Jean-Patrice", but I was being formal and polite, not dishonorable, as i saw it.)
I had a double shot of anejo, which was not drinking straight out of the bottle, twice, like she did, but just filling up a rock's glass half-way, and then then downing it, straight. I did have a lime, but I put it there mostly so I could lay down my antique laguiole french corkscrew pocket knife, which I'd bought used for over $100, and was nearly two feet long when I laid it there open by that lime, on my girlfriend's family's fancy dinner plate she'd taken. I thought all that kind of nonsense was so cool back then.
I loved patron anejo not only because it's amazing but because even chicks who don't appreciate good tequila know it's expensive, so they know you're spending money on them. By the way, patron silver and repsado don't cut it as high-end tequila. Don't buy them for their taste. But their price will still impress women.
Meanwhile as Esme started grinding up the little crystal meth rocks so she could snort it, I smoked some coke off of tinfoil, which was my preferred method, pretending it was crystal so she wouldn't ask for any. I liked crystal, but it kept me up too long and turned me on too much, and I was turned on enough already . I looked at her. She looked about 18,19,20. I was 25.
The sexual tension was so thick man, and I was so high. I was tired of pretending there was a chance nothing was going to happen when something clearly was, so I just took off my shirt and pants, just left on my boxers, and I was pitching a huge tent, hard as fuck.
She looked at me, my body, and literally drooled a bit , maybe because she was now pretty fucked up , but she was turned on too. Very turned on.
She just took off all her clothes, her little green very thin sports bra and her skin tight short shorts but then she got to that little g string thing trans chicks use to tuck their cocks.
I wanted to show her I was turned on by her dick, but not mention it specifically, in case she was one of those ones who hated her dick or whatever. I stared in her eyes and said a bunch of generalized complements that work on women who are already attracted to you: "...you're so cool so very cool, and so beautiful, oh i I wanna run my tongue over every single square inch of your body, oh your body baby, your beautiful body Jesus your body is so beautiful oh baby..."
She took off the g string thing, kind of slowly, sensually, working the side strings like a stripper, she couldn't have minded her dick that much, the way she took that off.
Once the g string thing dropped, she kind of covered her crotch with both hands, not ashamed, but playful.
Finally she opened both her hands like church doors. She was small and flaccid, and uncut like me. I thought it was beautiful. I'm not.saying I prefer trans to cis, I don't. There's too much drama associated with trans. I like them a lot, if they're hot, but don't prefer them.
But there is something incredibly beautiful about a real dick hanging off of a beautiful woman. There is for me.
We stated tongue kissingb really hard, rolling on the sleeping bag, and I shook my boxers off.
You felt that connection, we were both so turned on. I really wanted to fuck her all night (our night was the day), and then sleep with her in my arms, and that made me regret not going to a motel, make up some bullshit excuse to my girlfriend, and not even care if she believed it.
Because I couldn't sleep with this beautiful trans girl in my arms, and have my girlfriend walk in on that after working hard at a four star hotel concierge job she didn't even like. I was that close to polite. Even back then, when I was basically an emotional sociopath.
I got on top of Esme and pinned her arms. She wasn't scared. My face had how bad I wanted her written all over it, that the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. Quite the opposite, some sort of masculine instinct kicked in where I would've beat the shit out of anyone who'd come in the room to fuck with her, even if they had a legit gripe.
"God, you're a hot woman.. you are such a fucking hot woman I seriously can't even fucking breathe.. my heart is flipping in my fucking chest like I'm about to have a heart attack." (this was true).
"I'm going to tongue your pussy and your ass, drink your cum, nut up your ass, use my nut as lube to keep fucking and nut up you again, pull out, drink your cum again. You've got the cum for me, dont you, sexy?
All the while I was kissing her sensually. I like the girls I fuck to enjoy it, which I think usually comes down to making them feel not judged (either physically or mentally) plus greatly desired. And then you've obviously got to fuck them right.
But you've also got to push them to do what turns you on, and what I really, really wanted to do was drink Esme's cum. One of the hottest things I'd ever seen was a clip of cis woman porn star Veronica Brasil masturbating on a black leather couch and she a squirted and the cum just oozed out as thick as any man's biggest load, while Veronica moaned and the director said, obviously turned on himself, "oh yeah do it all over my fuckin' couch." It was so fucking hot. I wanted to suck that cum up and either drink it or tongue kiss her while it was in my mouth.
So, I've since found out a lot of trans women can't ejaculate, but I didn't know that then, I thought they all could if they still had a dick. In fact, I thought that's why most kept their dicks.
Since at that time I'd never met a cis chick who could squirt in that big way, I really wanted Esme to shoot in my mouth so I could drink her.
I kissed my way down her body and started to blow her. She got hard in my mouth, not fully erect, but hard, and that was a turn on. I deep throated her keeping it down my throat for several seconds, but she didn't start ooohhing and ahhhhing like I wouldve done, so I said "I wanna suck on your little clit" and pulled the foreskin back and started sucking on her dickhead, and then she did moan like crazy.
She was clean, but tasted a little bitter, either from soap or probably sweat, and maybe a trace of urine. She'd been wearing a heavy cologne since I'd met her that morning, but she'd really put a lot of it down here, by her crotch and ass. It smelled good and expensive. Which more than likely meant it was a counterfeit. I was impressed. Saving money and having taste are two very underrated qualities on the streets.
I sucked on her dickhead like this for a while and then made a circle hard with my lips and pulled up off her head, making a sound like a champagne bottle being uncorked.
She made a loud groan, like "uhhhhh!"
I smiled with her, looking into her eyes, feeling confident now that I knew what she liked. I kept my lips in a circle, and sucked like a straw down from her dick head, down the underside of her dick, down her taint, which I gave special attention to, sucking and kissing hard and sensual, up and down, and then ended at her asshole, which I sucked on and kissed for about five or ten seconds and then spread it wide.
And then I stuck my tongue in her asshole for as far as It would go, twirling it around to get my spit to coat the entire inside. I was rewarded with another "uhhhhh!" so I knew she liked that too.
Her ass tasted a little funky, afterall, she'd been out all night, so I spit on her asshole over and over, really drooled on it, and used my fingers to rub it in. This makes almost any ass taste good, especially when it looks as good as this chick's did.
I started tongue-fucking and sucking on her ass again, and she just lay there, dudes, moaning and groaning. It was so fucking erotic, I can't even get it across.
I was so hot myself, I nearly came from humping and rolling my hips on the blanket as I feasted on her asshole and taint, and had to consciously stop myself. I wanted to drink cum, but in also wanted to fuck.Endpart2
I stopped eating her and got the little jar of olive oil I used for anal. My first girlfriend had turned me on to it and I'd kept it up, probably because it reminded me of her.
She was as beautiful as any girl I've seen in person, and was the only girl I've ever been in love with until recently. She'd been knocked up at twelve, and had gotten into anal because she didn't want to get pregnant again and her parents wouldn't let her have birth control and she didn't like condoms.
We'd broken up when her parents moved back to Puerto Rico, and I'd locked myself in my room for two weeks not talking to anyone, not eating, and literally blocking light out of my windows with blankets and newspapers and shit.
I was a secret keeper. There were things I thought and did that no one knew. That no one would ever know.
No one knew how much I loved that girl, how attached I'd become to her son. Any dreams I had, I left spaces for them in them. I fought anyone who trashed them, for any reason, or if they were too tough to fight, I plotted their downfall.
I couldn't tell her I loved her. I could in the poetry I wrote for her. But, in person, no. I'd want to tell her so badly, and the words would stick in my throat, they'd choke me. I ran to the bathroom once closed the door and cried out of frustration like a bitch, like, what the fuck was wrong with me?
It was not cool, or glamorous, or tough. It was like I was under a curse where the more I loved someone, the more l couldn't say it. If I didn't love the person, I could lie and say it. Even sell it.
I know what the curse is now, I didn't then: narcissistic personality disorder. It is no joke. It caused me to get pain and give pain to and from anyone who trusted me or I trusted.
The pain this time was that I ridiculously blamed my first girlfriend, not her parents, for the move. I stopped talking to her, never said goodbye, never opened any of the mail, took any of the calls, blocked her everywhere, erased her son in my mind, which to me was his mother's fault, and made my hatred for her so cold and large like drifting space.
My mother, who knew me best even though I never told her anything about myself, came into the lightless vampire's crypt I'd created after a few days and tried to get three important things across.
One, don't harm yourself. I can't remember if I seriously thought about doing that, but I'm still here, so I guess not.
Two, she wanted me to accept these calls from my first girlfriend, and reconnect. Excellent advice which I completely disregarded.
Three, she said as painful as this was almost everyone has been through one of these, and they do get better. That one I did grasp onto, which shows how desperate I was, because I don't like listening to my mother. If you pushed through it, it would end. It did..
After two weeks I emerged with a hatred for the world and my olive oil kink. So.. Back to Esme and her asshole..
I got about a teaspoon full of my high-quality olive oil, not the cheap plastic bottle shit, and started working it into her ass and onto my dick- and her dick too- so we could masturbate it.
I think she started getting paranoid that I'd stopped eating her and was applying oil because she'd been up all night and was in the same clothes, whereas I showered and changed, and she may have felt kind of rank and dank.
Basically, people don't want to fuck if they think they smell unless they're Chuck Berry. What, you didn't know that the guy who helped invent rock n roll liked to set up hidden cameras in toilets and fart in hookers faces and devour groupies pee straight out of the tap? I'm sorry for taking your innocence, then. But reading this story was gonna do that anyway..
She said she wanted to take a quick shower. I was so fucking hard I wanted to just keep doing what we were doing. She kinda pressed on, and said it would be sexy if we showered togethe. I don't consider showers at all sexual, and only do that sex in the shower thing somtimes because I know a lot of women like it, and so I pretend to.
Mutual showers can also be useful, when you didn't plan on having sex, to clean your dick and especially your pitts and ass, and even mouth if you squeeze a little toothpaste on your palm to gargle; and this made me think that that's what she was worried about.
Her crotch and ass had been a little musty. But I'd fixed that with spit and oil. And I was so drunk and high anyway, who cared? I was more turned on then I'd been in weeks, probably months. I didn't wanna wait. I shut down the shower nonsense and stuck my tongue back in her ass. Endpart3
She said she wanted to do me now too. Show me what she could do, suck on my dick and ass, and swallow my nut, or at least 69 so we could do each other.. But I like being in charge, especially with a new girl.
I took my tounge out of her asshole and ran it up her sweaty but now oiled taint and balls and cock and up her torso and long body (I love tall girls, and one of the great things about trans chicks is that they tend to be tallish) to her mouth, and deep kissed her ass and sweat taste back onto her own lips and tongue, and I tasted the high end olive oil.. But also bubble gum flavor.
I usually hate girls cracking gum, but with a certain girl, it can be hot, and it was with her. She really only took the gum out of her mouth to snort the crystal, and then never put it back in. I ran my tongue out of her mouth, down her cheek and then into her ear.
Then I whispered into her ear: "Baby, no, I don't wanna have you do me right now, right now I wanna fuck.
She gasped back: "That's what you want huh? Maybe I should give you what you want, maybe I shouldn't. What else do you want to do to me?"
Her voice was really sexier than most women's. Not just the latina accent, it was really sweet and little girl sounding.
"I already told you. I wanna drink your cum. And I wanna fuck. Then I wanna fuck you again and drink your cum again. You got enough cum don't you? How many times do I have to ask you if you've got enough cum for me to drink?
"Oh god, I wanna drink you too, baby." She was like panting, so was I.
"I want it in that tight ass, though, that tightness. Do you fuck in the Ass?" I asked, slow-kissing her neck and ear. I obviously knew she did, but asked anyway.
"Right in my Ass?" She asked, being all coquettish, making eye contact, even batting her very fucking fake but still sexy eyelashes. She really had panache. Soooo much better than the trash of los angeles, both higher and lesser. She was an original, and their very meat and drink was fakeness. Not "faking it so real, we are beyond fake.." just minimal effort fake.
"Right in that sweet sweet sweet ass," I breathed, pulling my tounge out of her ear, and kissing her on the lips. "That's where I want to put my nut." I said.
We frenched more and then she broke the kiss and said "you know what?"
"What" I said, looking her in her hazelnut eyes.
"I'm going to give you what you want." I went to kiss her as a thank you, but she kind of stopped me, "you know why I am?"
"Why?" I asked, rock hard.
"Because I'm awesome!" she said, stretching out her arms, and I could see the slightest stubble growing on her pits. I could tell she had a serious buzz going now. I was a little wasted too, not totally, because I was a total lush and loved to drink and had a tolerance. And I had to work later, at least that's the way I remember it, and I hadn't smoked much coke, and no speed, or very little, I can't remember.
"Fuck," she gasped and breathed, breathed thick breaths, as I sucked on her tiny breast.
I sucked on her nipple like a baby, and rolled my tongue roughly around and around it.
I was not then, and am not now, a bugchaser. Yes, the condom-free risk is a turn on, I can't explain why, it's stupid. But, on the other hand, if you're going to stick your tongue and fingers up a chick's pussy and ass, unprotected, I can't see how sticking your dick in the same is so much more dangerous. Me being uncut, maybe there's slightly more risk. But really, your tongue is one big mucus membrane, and I use that to invade every orifice on a chick's body. Like the navy seals and the force recon marines, it is the tip of the spear.
And, yeah, I know, this was not only a trans girl, it was a likely trans hooker. I did think about that, but I was so hot, and so used fucking raw anyway. She was lying on her back, and I was hovering over her.
I told her to reach down and spread her cheeks. She did. Her dick jumped a bit, in excitement. It liked the idea, clearly. She never mentioned condoms, unless that was what the shower and trying to blow me when I obviously wanted to fuck thing was all about.
I put my dick against her asshole, and started to push. Told her to push too. She did. We both groaned as my head pushed past her hole's ring. I rubbed a littlemore oil on my shaft, and moved my dick slowly in until my balls kissed ass and my crotch hair brushed balls.
I let her adjust to me by rolling my dick around and around in her ass, then pulling back regular and steady, then slamming in again hard. She groaned, with that latina-american accent, maybe in pain a little, and I moaned and gasped as I fucked into her again and again.
I touched her dick, and because she wasn't fully erect I could massage her foreskin over her oiled dickhead over and over again to the rhythm of our fucking. She started to really gasp and moan and sigh, really loudly. I started to wonder when the last time someone touched this girl's dick was, or when she'd touched her own, especially while she was being fucked. I think I was fucking her really good, but it was also fairly standard stuff. She was acting like she was being fucked for the first time, and that clearly wasn't true. She was a hooker, I was almost completely sure.
I was so hot myself, I could've cum at almost any time, if I didn't consciously try to hold back. I decided to see if I could make her cum, and then nut really quick myself. If I hadn't been so hot, or if I'd been convinced she'd been enjoying it more, i wouldn't have stopped blowing her so fast.
Leaning down to try to push her over the edge, I whispered non stop filth in her ear: "...your asshole makes my dick feel good...oh you're so tight and slick and hot...oh I love the skin of your ass on the skin of my dick...my cum in your ass is going to lube my big dick so good when I fuck you again..."
All this while I was moving her slick foreskin over and over her dickhead as I fucked her. Suddenly she grunted and went "huh huh huh huh" turning her head from side to side and blinking hard and her dick ejaculated. Not a ton, one big spurt over her hard abs, a small one, and then a few dribbles, but she seemed to enjoy it quite a bit and I was as excited as fuck.
"Don't touch it!" I said, knocking her hand away, afraid she'd rub it into her skin.
"Why?" she asked, being jerked again and again by the power of my thrusts. "You'll see, sexy." I grunted, fucking her very quick and hard, trying desperately to orgasm.
Then it came, shot after shot into her ass, as I gasped softly and sucked on her neck and shoulder. Then I roused myself, pulling out and running my tongue down to her abs, where I sucked up every drop of her cum, showed her the pool of it in my mouth, swallowed it, opened my mouth to show her it was gone, and said "your cum tastes so good, sexy." It did, no lie. I then deep kissed her so she could taste herself on my lips and tongue.
We continued to kiss, smiling and laughing. We were young, we were still chemically altered; I think we were pretty pleased with ourselves. This had not only been passionate sex, it had been fun sex. It hadn't been "I secretly hate you sex" or "act my way through this boring shit sex" (admittedly, I was a good actor) like with my girlfriend.
I kissed her forehead, stared in her eyes, told her she was absolutely beautiful, then slowly rolled her over on her stomach. She knew what was coming. She reached back and parted her ass; then I pushed my dick into her asshole again, and my cum really did make it hotter, and it really was a good lube.
This was a super sensual fuck, it was like now that we'd both cum, we could just do our thing.
I fucked her ass hard and we held our right hands gripped tight together, the sex was so intense and so personal. At that moment I felt so connected to her, I would have told her all my secrets, things I'd told no one, except maybe my first girlfriend. But she didn't ask for any. Why would she?
She turned her head so we could tongue kiss and I whispered to her how great her ass felt while twisting the nipples of her small A tits, and caressing down her flank. But I couldn't reach her dick. I told her to hump the blanket as if I were under her. I wanted her to cum again for her and me.
I told her to fuck herself back into me, and to touch herself; I told her "come all over that sleeping bag so I can smell you on it, I'll think.of you and jack off."
I held off for a long time, waiting for her to cum, but she couldn't. It wasn't that she wasn't feeling good, but she could not finish. In the end she didn't have the cum.
Finally, as much as I liked her, I got tired of waiting. She may have felt under pressure to cum instead of just enjoying it, anyway-- you can't fix a sex hangup like that in a woman, especially a trans woman, in one good fuck session, however excellent your chemistry is .
I pushed in deep and nutted hard, pulling in and out so my nut got all over the walls of her asshole, feeling it running out of her butt and down my thighs and balls.
Esme lay in my arms and said I should stop by the stand tonight, even if only for a minute, she wanted to show me off or something.
Just like I wanted Esme to fall asleep in my arms, but couldn't have that because of my girlfriend coming home, I wanted.. I really wanted to date Esme, but couldn't, because there was too much I couldn't deal with. The inherent drama of a transsexual hooker.
I started thinking I was gonna havta find a different strip mall to get my tacos and alcohol and shit. It had been so convenient to my work and apartment. Typical.
I asked Esme, "Are you a hooker?"
"Only sometimes," she said, whatever that meant. She was looking everywhere in the room but at me.
"Esme, I don't think I'm gonna come to the stand tonight. Too much drama."
I ran in a pretty macho circle in its own way. Artistic. Guys might wear eyeliner for fashion, and I suspected there were some bisexuals behind closed doors. But a transsexual hooker as a girlfriend? So much hassle, if it's even possible. I hadn't asked if she had a pimp, and i wasn't going to-- before she used that question to recruit me to save her from him-- or tried.
"I could tell your girlfriend, Jean-Patrice." she said
Chicks use your full name when they're trying to sound serious, or threaten you. It's pretty corny.
I said "Yeah, you could."
I didn't care that much. But it solidified my feel feeling that I might regret letting her know where I live. But it was really unavoidable because the drugs were here. I wanted to get her high and fuck her, my standard operat.. My SOP. I put fear of stds out of my mind. I didn't want to give my girlfriend anything; but it would've been hard for Esme to give me anything. Statistics are my ally; and a powerful ally they are. Luck, which exists, is my ally; and a powerful ally it is.
A mistake i think guys make is not being clear with women. I learned this. If you meet a woman at a bar, and want to have sex with her, it should be one pf the first things you say to her, not the last. Why waste an evening of buying drinks only to have her split at the end ,maybe even acting "insulted."
Same way, dudes will try to put a hot chick like this Esme on a back burner. You could, but it's stupid. Her possible pimp, her wacky friends, probably a tragic background where she got tossed out by her parents, or more or less did, doing trans porn and escorting to pay for her hormones treatments, and probably saving for plastic surgery, to cut up an already perfect face, if the possible pimp isn't stealing it, or ready to turn those gorgeous tear drop A cups into Frankenstein freaky DDs.
Also Doing Drugs and Drinking at 9am. So was I, but I could handle it, and most just can't. The point is, don't let it linger because she knew how to fuck: When you're done cut it off. Always better too early than too late.
"You want that shower now, Esme?"
"You coming in with me?" she asked, attempting to reconnect with me. In less than a minute we'd gone from lovers to strangers, clients at best.
"I already took one before we met today. Maybe I'll take another before my girlfriend gets home, to get the olive oil off me."
She tried a different approach: "I wouldn't tell your girlfriend. I wouldn't hurt you." She tried for puppy dog eyes, but I could see the anger ballet dancing underneath.
"I don't love my.girlfriend. However hurt she gets, she can't skip on the lease because her parents consigned."
"So her parents are rich," Esme said, making a typical female assumption that straight men whore themselves like women. You're a real female after all, Esme!
"They're more like the the low end of upper middle class. Definitely not rich," I said.
But I could understand her jealousy of my girlfriend. Esme probably wasn't supported by her parents like my girlfriend was; was not a cis woman like my girlfriend was; was not white like my girlfriend was; did not have to have me fake interest, and sometimes fake orgasms, like my girlfriend did.
Was objectively hotter than my girlfriend, and we had way more sexual chemistry than me and my girlfriend (though probably not as much intellectual chemistry, I suspected) and here I am throwing her out so she'd be gone before my girlfriend got home.
What she didn't understand is it never was a fair fight. I don't like drama, except when I control it; My girlfriend is the opposite of drama. Somebody like Esme sweats drama out of every pore. It makes you feel alive right until you wake up and find yourself dead. Some bad drugs she scored or some guy she led on puts a hollowpoint through me or worse-- I become her pimp. Then everything that was Jean-Patrice is dead, even if he's still breathing. Sorry for speaking in the third person there. Fuckin' hate assholes who speak in the third person. And in LA or NYC you unironically hear that shit. You do. These are the kind of motherfuckers who try to make a fashion statement at their mother's funeral. The Drama got them and kept them.
I didn't even know Esme's last name. Avoiding that strip mall at night, I likely wasn't going to ever talk to her again. I was tired of her looking at me, waiting for me to ask her and her Drama to stay. No.
I said: "If this is going to be some Sarah Bernhardt long drawn-out performance, you can just get your shit and get the fuck out now. Forget the fucking shower."
She cursed at me in Spanish a bit, which I think she thought I understood, but I didn't, then gave me the Silent Treatment, which I actually appreciated (because I didn't want to talk) as she collected her things. I watched her to make sure she didn't take the Patron or drugs or anything else. I think the two foot knife on the plate may have kept her from throwing things. She didn't even know about the nickled colt .45 acp officer's model with the pearl grips I stuck in a bunny slipper under the bed loaded with the best hollow points. Like the knife, high-end stuff bought used at a fair price. It's better than getting cheap stuff that doesn't work well. Mostly, though, it looked cool as fuck.
She kind of slamed the door on her way out, and I locked it after her, and looked through the spy hole to see if any nosy neighbors were looking. I heard her slam the front gate and resolved if any neighbors did tell my girlfriend, I'd tell her she was some girl at work who wanted to trade Percocets for speed, whatever. I was pretty sure she'd believe me, because I didn't give a fuck if she believed me.
I went to shower the olive oil off, and thought "It's always the lies you don't care about that are believed."
Or are the lies that never even have to be told:
My girlfriend never asked about Esme.
Dedicated to Bret Easton Ellis