Publish Date: Feb 13, 2013
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Last fall at the beginning of my fourth year at university I was matched up with Clare as a roommate. She has a very nice, well proportioned body that is maybe five feet four tall, and those high cheek bones that look so classy, with the slightly hollow cheeks beneath them. Many people might think her tits were small, but on that body they seemed just right to me.
Actually she dresses pretty classy too considering that most U students are so sloppy these days. I like to get dressed up sometimes too, but Clare is always wearing something elegant. Not expensive, you know, but put together to look striking. And always high heels too. Three inch and once in a while four inch heels. I asked her one day why she did this every day and she told me "I worked hard to dress this way and I'm not going to let it go." Beyond that she didn't explain.
On this particular evening I had been out on a date. I was wearing a white blouse, a black skirt, some sheer black stockings ( I love stockings) and a pair of black patent slingbacks with three inch heels that had a tiny open toe (I don't like the chunky shoes that seem to be ‘in' these days) with a spot of red nail polish peeking from each opening. The date didn't turn into much. He took me out for supper and only talked about how bad the wine was. Then we went to a movie and he talked all the way through it about football, so I came home early.
Clare and I have an arrangement. If either of us is ‘occupied' with someone we put a little smiley face on our name plate on the door. Nothing there, so I unlocked and walked in. Holy Jesus! Clare was on her bed, a single dim light turned on, in a red satin nighty that split up the front, black stockings, and red satin five inch heels, and she was masturbating. I don't mean with her finger or a vibrator. She was beating off a cock! And a good sized one at that!
I slammed the door, flung my back against the side wall, arms and hands spread back as though I could hold on. "Oh my god," I screamed. I've been living with a man! Jesus, no, a transvestite!" I must say I've nothing against TVs. I know one and he is a great guy. I just don't want to live with one.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry," Clare cried. She, or he, tried scrambling around to get under the bed cover.
I was aghast. What the hell was I going to do? Her matching satin dressing gown was on the floor. I gathered up my courage and stumbled over to pick it up. Holding it up high, over my eyes, I handed it to Clare.
"I'm so sorry," she started again. "I'll pack and move out in the morning." She stood then, with the gown tied at the waist, walking across the room so elegantly on those beautiful five inch heels, then sagged down on our little couch and began to cry.
"I'll help you pack, and it doesn't have to wait until morning. Christ, a transvestite!"
"I am not a transvestite!" she screamed at me between wracking sobs. "I'm a hermaphrodite!" and started to wail again.
I started to walk towards her then, feeling... feeling I don't know what, but different. "You mean you have both.....?"
"Yes!" and in her fury and pain flung the front of her gown open, reached into the split, grabbed what was now a dink and pulled it up. "You've seen the one part, you might as well see the other."
The meat in her hand was coming out of the top of what looked like a rather nice cunt. I started to feel myself getting wet. Just as quickly, Clare closed her gown, and fell back to sobbing, some of her personal anger and confusion dissipating.
What could I do? I sat down gently beside her in the hope I could now be of some comfort. "Nice pumps," I said weakly.
Clare only responded by putting her head on my shoulder and sobbing like little hiccups, her chest heaving.
"I've never seen this outfit," I went on, not really knowing what to say.
"It's ... sob .. for ... hic ... special times."
I just held her then, my own bad emotions washing away with her tears.
After a while she began to tell me her story. When she was born the doctor had suggested removing her penis, but her father had gone wild – ‘no surgeon was touching his little boy'. Her mother had bowed to his pressure and Clare had been raised as a boy. Her parents never resolved the matter and were constantly fighting over it, which is how Clare had eventually learned that she was some kind of "freak". At the end of her last year of grade school her mother left her father and moved away.
"She asked me what I wanted to be," Clare explained. "I told her I was a girl, wanted to be a girl."
Her mother bought her all new clothes, girl clothes and she remembered excitedly, those first girl shoes; black patent Mary Janes, with little white lacy socks, and also a pair of brown Bass penny loafers.
"I got my first erection trying on those Mary Janes, not very big, but all hard," she giggled softly into my shoulder. Her sobbing had subsided and she was telling me all of this as some sort of dreamy reminiscence. "They looked soooo nice, and felt so good, and I walked around in those shoes and my new skirt for hours. I even wore them to bed and played with my little hard-on."
She broke down again and sobbed and sobbed into my shoulder. I just remained silent, holding her. Then, hesitantly, she went on with her story.
During that summer her mother had taught her how to dress, act, and behave as a girl - even to her first makeup. In the fall she enrolled in high school in her new town as a girl. All through high school the boys were asking for dates.
"And I just couldn't go on one. You see...."
"I see the problem," I reassured her.
"So they all thought I was a snot. I just withdrew more and more. I withdrew into my studies and into fashion books. It was in my second year that my breasts began to grow, and along with that my penis."
It was decided she should see a doctor and try to work out a physical and personal resolution. In the end it turned out that if they had amputated her penis as a baby she would have had no sexual sensations, for in her case it replaced her clitoris. On the other hand, if she had chosen to grow up as a boy she would have had to undergo a double mastectomy at the least. I involuntarily shuddered at that thought. Her tits had always looked nice to me – not too big, not too small, with a nice tilt. It was a lose lose situation, with Clare the loser all the way around. At this point she just broke down again and sobbed into my shoulder.
I just sat there, humbled, cuddling her. I didn't know what to do really, so I did what seemed natural, what my mother did for me as a child, when I needed comforting. I unbuttoned my blouse and eased her head to a waiting tit. She rolled her eyes up to me. I nodded and pressed her head toward it. The gentle sucking of her red lips also eased my tensions and I began to think through the last hour.
Slowly, slowly her trembling stopped. Then her cock started to push against one side of the front of her smooth red robe. I could see in through the opening. It was a beautiful looking cock, although not very thick. I stared at it mesmerized. It was maybe an inch and a quarter wide, the shaft perfectly smooth, shiny and nicely veined. The head a rich purple and terribly shiny with an arrogant tilt and wonderfully defined corona that lifted well clear of its shaft. It curved! Upward! Not that downward pull from a too short frenum, but upward in an erotic way I had never seen before. It must have been eight inches long. If a woman was to have a cock (what was I thinking, my brain reeled) then this slim curvaceous thing was it. I wanted to touch it, but instead reached over and fully opened the front of Clare's gown and let it come out unhindered.
She felt my movement, and sat upright, trying to cover it. The soft fabric brushed against her engorged head and it jerked spasmodically.
"I'm sorry," she said simply, again.
"You don't need to do that Clare. It is a beautiful organ. Let it out. I don't mind at all."
"It is beautiful isn't it," she whispered placing one hand around it, her red nails a lovely counterpoint to the pink shaft and plum colored head. Some kind of a barrier between us had been crossed.
"Yes," I whispered back. And more boldly "And a lovely circ job. You were lucky to have such a careful surgeon when you were born."
"Oh that's only two years old. My daddy wouldn't let a surgeon near me then. I decided that since this is what contained the heart of my sexuality I wanted it to look as beautiful as possible. I researched for months to find just the right kind of circumcision. This way they take the skin off from the base. They make you as hard as you can get then mark how much to take away, then...... I'm babbling," and she went to cover it up again.
"Please, before you do that... could I... could I just touch it."
Clare looked at me dubiously, but her erection was still very bold and I don't think she could have covered it now anyway. She took her hand away, and I just touched the tip with my finger and traced my way down the smooth shiny shaft with a red nail, getting very wet myself as I did.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a little shudder.
"Please tell me the rest about your circumcision," I said softly.
"There isn't much more to tell. I guess they didn't make me hard enough and so they took a little too much skin from the top and that has made it curve back, but I like the curve and.... I'm sorry, this has to stop."
She started to get up. "I'll start packing."
"No Clare. Not now. You're emotionally exhausted, but we do need to talk more. I want to go to the bathroom, but I'll come back and we can talk you through this. I think there is a large bottle of wine with only one glass used, in the fridge. Will you pour us some?"
Without a word she got up and I watched her sway across the room on those beautiful five inch heels to our little kitchenette, then I went to my chest of drawers and took a couple of things out and made my way to our tiny bathroom.
It didn't take me long. A little freshening here and there, a touch up on the make up, then I stripped down to my stockings and pumps. Pulling my ‘special' nighty over my head I walked back into our room. I knew she would be able to see my cleanly shaved cunt through the sheer pale blue fabric of my short Baby Doll top. It was obvious that the male part of her was turned on by sexy female things – and I wanted to see more of her male part.
Clare had returned to the couch and turned her head towards me as I walked back in. Her cock sprang back to life. I've said it before, but it was a truly beautiful cock and I realized then that I truly adored seeing it. It was terribly erotic for me seeing it come out the front of her very feminine attire.
"You're shaved!." she exclaimed, then in the same breath; "Why are you tormenting me like this," she said, again trying to cover her special part.
"I'm not dressed like this to torment you Clare," I stated. "I'm dressed like this because I want to admire you, and to make you feel comfortable beside me as we enjoy our wine. And yes I shave. Do you like it?"
"Yes. Yes, God yes, it's lovely. You can see the effect it has had on me."
"Then please, please, let your beautiful penis be free. I'll light a candle for us. Let it out into the soft flickering light that will make. Let the reflection of the flame glimmer off of your shiny head. Just let it be free. Please. Let me appreciate it, it is so beautiful, and it only adds to your beauty. And please take your robe off. I've shown you my boobies, let me see yours." I looked at her pleadingly.
As I lit the candle she dropped the robe and eased her shoulder straps down to let her breasts free. I placed my hands under them and lifted them off of her chest. She whimpered softly, and her cock head bulged, its skin even shinier, about to burst. Her tits were cuddly, and perhaps a 32B, but on her small body, perfect. I eased them back to rest and let her cover them up again.
Sitting down beside her once more, I said, "Now be truthful, doesn't that feel better now that it's not restricted?" as I waved my hand toward her cock.
It was so engorged now, she couldn't have hidden it anyway. She looked at me with wide hopeful eyes and nodded agreement. "How long is it really, " I asked softly.
"It's actually eight and a half inches if you allow for the curve. Are you sure..."
"I'm sure. May I hold it now?"
"Yes, if you want to."
I slipped my hand onto it, thoroughly enjoying the hardness and smoothness, and leaned over, tentatively, to kiss her cheek. She responded, to my surprise, and then backed away.
"I like your pumps, and your boobies too," she added a little softer.
"And your shave job? Will you show it to me, uncovered?"
Reluctantly I let go of her cock, stood up, stepped back, and pulled my nighty up.
I watched her head get shiny again.
We talked for a while of many things. Of her growing up accepting no dates, of her university courses, of her love of high heels and fashion clothes. Naturally her cock withdrew back into her nighty as time went on.
After a while I wanted to see it again so I pulled the short hem of my nighty up and gently took her hand and placed it on my cunny, moving her fingers over the lips. When I let go she left her hand for a few moments and then withdrew it. I left my hem up, my cunny on show for her, available.
"You do like having it big and hard don't you Clare?"
"Oh God Karen, so help me I do. But there is so little opportunity...., and no one else to appreciate..., no one to...."
"You've never had a relationship of any sort..."
"No how could I. Men don't want.... women don't enjoy...."
"Some don't, no, but I am," and I reached to flutter my fingers over the once more ripe plum colored head, and was rewarded with another spasmodic jerk.
"You've only had yourself to find your pleasure...?" and that led us to more talk as we drank through another glass of wine each.
Her once again wilted cock must have disappointed Clare, because she started to slide a hand across towards me, then withdrew it.
"Go ahead Clare. Go ahead. I'm here for you, I'm bare for you. Make yourself rigid, absolutely steely rigid again. Let me turn a bit and make it easier for you to touch and see my cunny." I shifted sideways. "That's it Clare, touch me, yes, that's it, slip a finger in."
Her nipples pushed out the top of her gown, and her prick pushed out once more, filling, swelling, curving. I grabbed and held it, squeezing. "Is this good Clare?"
"Oh yes Karen," she breathed deeply. "Do you think..., do you love the feel of my...?
"Clare, it is fantastic. Look how wet I am. What is it that makes you get horny?" I said letting go to appreciate her cocks shape and length. I leaned over and gave it a little kiss on the head. "OK?" I asked.
"Oh yes. God look at it swell! It's almost painful it's so hard. It's a nice pain," she added hurriedly, "a very nice pain."
"Mmmmn. It is magnificent. How long do you think we can keep it that way? Never mind, what about my question?"
"I love being a woman, the feel of my body, soft sensuous clothes, the feel of my tits. I love looking at them in the mirror. High heels, oh yes definitely high heels, and watching other women's tits. Do you know I have to wear heavy elastic panties to stop this happening in the classroom or on the street," she said waving at her fantastic hard on. "I am a woman and love it so, but it is female things that are erotic to me."
"And your other part, does it get excited. Do men make it excited?"
"My axe wound, as Daddy called it? Yes it gets excited. It is excited now, as wet and excited as yours, but no, men just don't do it for me."
"And all those times you had a smiley face on the door?"
"Just to make you think I had some sort of sex life."
"And is this lovely thing poking out at me, is it armed and dangerous?"
"Is it.... oh I see. Karen I can orgasm, but I can't ejaculate nor can I menstruate. I don't have... don't have any testicles, nor ovaries."
‘God,' I thought, ‘How stupid of me.' It simply had not occurred to me, I was so interested in seeing her cock and cunny that I had not noticed the lack of balls.
I poured the last of the wine and we went on to finish exploring each others lives. As we finished off that last glass I turned and said "It is almost dawn, and I think we will be skipping classes today. Do you want it big again?"
Do you want me to make it big and hard and painful again?"
Do you want me to make your incredible clit so hard and so rigid that it may even grow to be nine inches long? Long, and throbbing and deliciously painful?
"Ooooooh." Clare breathed in audibly, her chest heaving as it had during her sobs, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. "How will you do that?" her voice cracking.
I didn't answer directly. Instead I said "First we have to move these night tables and push our beds together. The next few minutes were filled with the sound of our heels clattering about the little dorm room. I wondered where I might buy a pair of five inch heels the next day. Then I pulled my baby doll top off and fell back on the new double bed, spreading my legs wide.
"To meet our first goal, you can eat me, and ..."
I saw her clit appear once more, already big and throbbing.
"And when you can't stand the hardness any more you get to fuck me!"
T-Girls - Part Four - Lili Elbe - A Little Danish Please! - So who was this young woman of Danish origin who underwent the first risky and risque operation to be the first transsexual Brunhilda of Bavaria?
T-Girls - Part Three - French transsexuals include the Abbe De Choisy who was not so choosy when it came to male sex partners
The T-Girl - Part Two - The transsexual not only comes out of the closet, but, does so with fabulous flair, honey dripping honesty and penis erecting panache