|
Account Disabled
Join Date: Nov 2, 2010
Posts: 1,334
|
First Encounter with a TS (please don't use the word "closet" in your comments :) )
The following is an account of my first (and possibly only) encounter with a transsexual. This episode occurred many months ago, but for various reasons (homophobia on the board, valid concerns about providers’ scorn/discrimination, etc.), I chose not to share. I wrote this some time ago, though it was still months after the fact. I was going through some old notes and felt it was worth sharing. I’m at a place in my hobby life, as well as my real life life, where I kind of stopped giving a fuck about certain things. At this point, I imagine myself walking through this life wearing giant Beats headphones, hearing nothing but the voice of Aloe Blacc. I hope this would-be review at least entertains. At minimum, I hope it’s a positive contribution to the site.
I post here because I’ve always wanted to drop something in Another Realm, and never really had a reason to. God knows I’m one of the most another-realm-est motherfuckers on Icky.
Also note that, though I may use the wrong pronoun or say something boneheaded, this "review" is about one of the coolest, sweetest, sexiest providers I’ve ever stolen a moment with.
~
So I’m driving to Brooke’s place. An urge that periodically seizes me, an urge that I never obey but never completely ignore had me in the car that day, driving to a small apartment where I would pay money to suck someone’s dick. I got a little lost and gave Brooke a quick phone call. Her voice was one of those red flags that pop up during a hobby encounter, those things that happen before you meet an escort that may suggest that you need to change course, the big head recognizing the little head’s foolishness and trying to alert you to certain warning signs. Yes, all those times you suddenly remember that you’re happily married totally qualify. My personal red flags for this encounter included but may not have been limited to: Brooke’s not completely feminine voice, the aforementioned fact that I got lost on the way, and my unblemished record of heterosexuality. Red flags are like the voice of God or Courtney Love albums; most people who actually want to have fun in this brief, silly life don’t usually listen to them.
I had the typical reservations most straight men would have upon hearing a transsexual’s voice for the first time. Don’t trip; these reservations are perfectly reasonable. I wasn’t going there to have coffee and discuss politics and religion. If that were so, Brooke’s dulcet shemale tones would’ve worked just fine, and we would have had a swell time. But this was a Hobby date, and the voice on the phone was not quite a sound that I was ready for, and I thought twice, thrice even, about aborting the mission. But I’m a soldier y’all; I was on a mission to check off a crucial bucket list item and to test Charlie Runkle’s “holes is holes” theory, so I diligently listened to the directions that Brooke clarified for me, heeding the voice of some sexy, effeminate GPS.
I made it to the complex and began looking for Brooke’s apartment, the fact that I gave my word to this person the only reason I actually showed up. I had no more real resolve, and I was full of fear. I had gone through the trouble of driving miles away from my home just to tell someone that I couldn’t go through with a session. This was one of those moments when I held my fate in my hands (as paradoxical as that sounds). Last time I felt this much consternation about a sexual encounter with a stranger, I ended up becoming “Justin Scott.”
I got lost on foot much the way I got lost on the road, and only discovered the correct apartment because of the tall blonde standing in the doorway. My memory of the encounter is so fuzzy that, when I look back, all I can see is the blond hair. I can’t remember the face that I saw. I don’t have a clue what color her clothes were. But I will always remember the lust that overtook me when I saw TS Brooke for the first time. It was a lust I wasn’t supposed to feel, a lust that was never supposed to apply to me, a lust I didn’t quite comprehend. But she looked good, and any indecision I had about this person vanished completely the instant I laid eyes on her.
My memory of what transpired inside of Brooke’s apartment is maddeningly fuzzy, but I can say with complete certainty that her incall was clean and comfortable, and every other aspect of the date went beautifully. It was one of my very best times.
When I got into the apartment, I just wanted to sit and stare at Brooke. I sat on her couch as she moved around the place. She eventually sat down next to me and made small talk. There was a line in Brooke’s showcase that stated “you’ll forget I’m a TS until…” Well I never actually forgot that she was a ladyguy, but she was stunning enough to make me forget that I gave a shit about it. When I saw Brooke move around in an outfit that made her curvy, I didn’t need to define her anymore, I just wanted her. I remember tight shorts, perfect legs, curves, a femininity that was blatant, intentional. Looking at her, desiring her, was erotic in a way that I still don’t have words for.
I kept looking down. From Brooke’s perspective, I’m sure this made me appear a bit nervous. Of course I was nervous, being that I was sitting next to the only provider in my hobby life to that point that could fuck me the same way I could fuck her, but my attention kept getting summoned by Brooke’s crotch. Everything from her waist down looked unquestionably feminine; no bulge betrayed the illusion. But I knew there was a dick in there, and though I’ve given up trying to understand why, whatever mystery hid (throbbed?) beneath those shorts, shorts that still don’t have a color in my faint memory, was the reason I was in that room, the amazing creature to whom it was attached notwithstanding.
Brooke, as attentive as she is beautiful, offered a cure for my nervousness.
“You want a shot?” she asked.
The liquor helped settle me, and it gave me another chance to give Brooke the gaze, another chance to revel in this new lust, while I gathered my fleeting confidence.
We talked about stuff, a conversation about this being my first session with a TS, a dialogue Brooke probably has ad nauseum. I remember not worrying the slightest about her voice at this point, and bits and pieces of what she said. One bit was that I was apparently one of Brooke’s younger clients. I also remember that conversation humanizing (for lack of a better term) Brooke. To a first timer, and I was a first timer in almost every sense, having never even spoken to a TS in my entire life (and I’m not THAT young), a person like Brooke is objectified even more than the typical escort. Getting to feel her vibe for a few moments did wonders, both for my appreciation for Brooke the person as well as my growing lust.
I was finally ready, and we went into the bedroom. I forget the order of the activities, but I will try to depict the brief flashes that are still visible in my memory.
The bedroom was immaculate. As I walked through the door, a large bed sat to the far left, a small bathroom and vanity mirror to the right. I remember lying on my back, drinking Brooke in with my eyes during my entire time in this room. I know I changed positions at some point, but I remember looking up at Brooke and bashfully touching her. There were no implants at that time, but I noticed that perhaps hormones were taking effect. I sucked her nipples and kissed her. I also remember hearing Brooke’s text tone on her phone. It was that cool whistle that comes standard with the Samsung Galaxy devices (sorry I’m a bit of a tech geek). I hadn’t really heard that tone before that day, and now whenever I hear that tone on someone’s phone, my mind takes me back to a TS escort’s dimly lit bedroom. Some weird Pavlovian thing.
More flashes:
We kind of perched ourselves in the middle of the bed and kissed for a few moments before the spirit moved us to oral. I was so at ease at this point, credit the shot or Brooke’s charm, that there was no big reveal for Brooke’s penis. This was the first cock that I would actually interact with, but I was surprisingly composed. I wish I could remember her slowly pulling down her panties and the shaft emerging dramatically. Maybe there was no such moment. I just remember it being there. And there are memories from that day involving only Brooke’s cock that still resonate in my mind.
I remember lying there staring at it like it was the only thing in the room. I remember thinking it was so pretty it looked feminine. I remember being conscious of it the whole time; I was always aware of its location and state of arousal. There was a moment during the session when Brooke sort of knelt above me as I lay on the bed. I think she may have been unwrapping a condom, but I can’t really recall. While she knelt there, I felt her dangling member resting on my leg, a strange sensation and a pleasant visual that I will probably take to my grave.
I also remember what it felt like in my mouth. I touched it, explored the beauty of it, then sucked it gently, trying to channel the techniques of some of the great oralists of my past and present. I wanted to be good at this. Brooke told me I was doing a good job, but that did little for my confidence. She stretched out on the bed and we 69’d. This was amazing. I remember her taking both cocks in one hand at some point and jerking them together. I was gently facefucked.
I don’t think my encounter with Brooke transformed me into a card carrying tranny smasher, and I’m definitely sure I haven’t gone bi-bi, but I walked away from that experience knowing that there is a dick in this world that I like. There is a dick in this world that I want (in my mouth again).
I asked if I could fuck her, my own bluntness startling me (I actually said the words “ can I fuck you now?”). She was cool with that, and we fucked in a sideways position. I don’t know what all the positions are called, I just be strokin’, but we were both on our sides and I slid in and out of Brooke. I remember the snugness, I remember Brooke’s soft dirty talk, I remember loving this. Brooke then got on top and rode me. Her cock was there again, flopping up and down with every stroke. We fucked this way until we couldn’t anymore.
We finished with another moment of oral with hand action mixed in. So many sensations in this encounter that I don’t remember what my climax felt like. Brooke didn’t release, I’m not sure if I was ready for that. We cleaned up, chatted, and I eventually found myself back at Brooke’s door. We hugged and said our goodbyes, both of us clearly okay with a future hook up.
This was one of my best hobby moments for so many reasons. A human being whom I reduced to an item on a to do list turned out to be an incredibly cool person that I’d love to meet again. I discovered a different way to feel, a different way to look at myself. This was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done, and for a person whose Hobby life, upon reflection, is one big homogenous block of regret (Lord knows I wish I had a few moments back!), I’ve never had a “what have I done!” moment regarding this particular session. Brooke can booty call me any time, but I like pussy too much for this TS thing to become my new addiction. For those familiar with my act, don’t expect a ‘Led Zeppellin and Ladyboys’ review series any time soon. But this special provider gets the highest of recommendations from me.
~
To those who know me/of me on the Houston board, the soundtrack, had I posted this as an actual review, would’ve likely been “Sleeping Ute” by Grizzly Bear. A beautiful piece of poetry perched atop beautiful piece of music.
|
My Bio Page - Texas - Houston
My Bio Page - Kansas City Metro
