‘Hi,’ she said, her voice sultry. ‘I’m the new maid. Lisa.’

The new maid had turned up at the house of Mark and Susan Reynolds. Mark had answered the door, and he was impressed.

Lisa was around thirty, with large brown eyes and wide red ruby lips. Her exotic features made Mark think that she was from somewhere near Persia. She was about 5’6″ in black high-heeled shoes, long-legged, with dark hair that ran in curls down to her shoulders. She wore a white open-necked shirt that strained against her large firm breasts, and a gold locket rested against her open, tanned cleavage. But the thing that most impressed Mark was the pair of tight blue jeans she was wearing which showed off her shapely legs. He thought she had a slightly dirty look.

She was holding out a slender hand for him to shake.

Mark took her hand which felt warm to the touch and, for a moment, forgot to speak. Lisa put her other hand over her mouth and let out a giggle.

‘He’s Mark,’ a woman’s voice said. ‘And I’m Susan, his wife.’

Mark was relieved to see that Susan hadn’t taken his stumbling over the new maid badly. She could get very jealous at times – not that there was any reason to. Mark had been faithful to her throughout their entire marriage. Ever since they’d got together at school, he’d never even so much as kissed another girl. Now, fifteen years later, they had built a perfect life together, a good house, a good car and up until a week beforehand, a good maid. That was until Susan had accused the girl of stealing, and Mark had sat back as the fireworks flew. Now they had the replacement, this exotic looking beauty called Lisa.

They went through to the lounge, where Susan and Mark sat on the sofa and Lisa sat opposite them. As the new maid crossed her arms in front of her chest, Mark couldn’t help but note what large breasts she had. Certainly bigger than Susan’s. She was maybe more interesting looking as well. Susan would never have dreamed of wearing what Lisa had on – she was always bad-mouthing women who dressed ‘like sluts’. The way Mark saw it, Lisa had some amazing attributes and was just making the most of it. He realised, as he gazed along Lisa’s long legs, that he had a growing erection. Lisa raised an eyebrow at him and gave a slight smile.

Susan started talking about the tasks that Lisa would be doing round the house, a topic that Mark paid no interest in until it came onto dress-code.

‘Clearly, what you are wearing is inappropriate,’ Susan said.

Lisa was annoyed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I can’t have you wearing high heels to clean the house. Don’t you have anything more suitable?’

‘These are feminine clothes,’ Lisa said. ‘What a women should wear.’

‘But you’re my housemaid,’ Susan said.

‘Well,’ Lisa said, placing one of her slender hands on her thigh. ‘I do have a maid’s outfit.’

‘Fine. You can wear that next week. For today, you’ll just have to see how you get on. Why don’t you start with cleaning our bedroom?’

‘Of course,’ Lisa said.

She got up and Mark once again drank in the spectacle of her looks, the never-ending legs and the tight jeans. This time he was given a view of her arse, the shapely buttocks that wobbled slightly as she walked. He watched her large breasts in profile, then had one last look at her sultry red mouth as she turned to smile at him.

‘Will Mr. Reynolds show me round?’ she said.

‘No,’ Susan said. ‘I think I’ll do that.’

Watching Susan stand up next to Lisa, Mark was surprised at how plain his wife looked. The lack of make-up might have made her more natural, but the smoky looks of Lisa intrigued him. Then there was Lisa’s glamorous hair, compared to Susan’s ponytail, and the height of the other woman, a good few inches taller than Susan. The new woman in his house was almost imposing.

That was enough of thinking about that, Mark decided. He wasn’t going to go down that road.

Later, after Lisa had gone, Susan asked Mark what he’d thought of her.

‘She seemed ok,’ he said. Best not to sound too enthusiastic.

‘Do you want to know why I hired her?’ Susan was grinning now, pleased with herself over something.

‘Go on,’ Mark said.

‘Because she’s a ladyboy.’

‘That’s a stupid joke.’

‘I’m not joking.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, when I was looking for a new maid, I started getting jealous. I didn’t want you having any temptation. I even thought I might not get one at all. Then my friend Angela told me about a company that she’d used. Don’t you remember that dinner at Angela’s? You saw the girl when we were round there a couple of months ago.’

Mark knew who Susan was talking about. The maid had been introduced to him by Angela’s husband, Tony. She was only small, just over five foot, a pretty little Thai girl called Janjira.

‘She was a ladyboy?’ Mark said.

‘Yes,’ Susan said, still grinning, pleased with herself. ‘Ladyboy Maids. Hired to keep your house clean and your husband true.’

She gave him a tap on the shoulder to prove how clever she’d been. Mark, though, was thinking back to when he’d gone round to Tony and Angela’s house the previous week and stumbled across something he shouldn’t have seen. Tony standing in his lounge as that pretty little Thai girl, her clothes stripped down to the waist to show off her petite breasts, lovingly sucked on his cock. Mark had seen enough to know Tony had come in that girl’s mouth. The knowledge that the Thai girl was a ladyboy put a whole new spin on it.

Susan was still going on. ‘I phoned up the agency and they sent us Lisa.’

Mark tried once more to make sense of it. He thought back to their new maid, and ran the image of her beautiful face and gorgeous body through his head. The black high heels and that little smile she’d given him on a couple of occasions. One of them when she’d caught him admiring her long legs. One when she’d caught a glimpse of his erection.

He tried to imagine her with a cock. Hidden away in the crotch of those tight jeans.

He shook his head a few times to clear the image away.

Susan let out a laugh. ‘Don’t worry, hubby. She’ll be the perfect maid.’

That evening, Mark couldn’t sleep. Ignoring the protestations of Lisa, and only telling her he was going out for a walk, he went out into the streets. He wandered around, not sure of where he was planning to go, until he found himself at Angela and Tony’s house. The bedroom light was on. He was sure Susan had mentioned something about Angela being away visiting her mother.

Mark thought over his guilt. He’d remained silent over everything he’d seen a week beforehand, watching as the Thai girl gulped down Tony’s cum. Tony stroking her hair like she was an obedient slut. Could that same girl be a ladyboy? He decided it was time to find out the truth.

He rang the doorbell. From beyond the door he heard the sound of a woman’s light footsteps coming down the stairs. Maybe Susan had been wrong about Angela being away. Which was going make explaining his late arrival difficult.

But it wasn’t Angela who answered the door. It was the Thai housemaid. She was as pretty as he remembered, young looking with an open smile and dark dreamy eyes. She was wearing a white silk kimono which contrasted with her brown skin. The kimono was flapping slightly open, and Mark caught sight of the naked outline of her small breasts.

‘Mr. Reynolds, sir.’ She leapt forward and embraced him. Mark wasn’t quite sure what to do, but found himself hugging her back. She gripped him tightly and squeezed him, leant back and smiled. Her kimono was still open, and she saw him looking at her bare chest. ‘Naughty,’ she said, pulling it shut.

Tony arrived behind her. He was wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, surprisingly out of breath for a man of thirty. Mark thought that must have been the results of some exertion.

‘Janjira,’ Tony said. ‘Leave Mark alone.’

She pouted at him as he pulled her back by the arm and turned her round. He slapped her backside and pushed her inside, then shut the door of his house.

‘You have to forgive Janjira,’ Tony said. ‘She’s very friendly.’

‘I’ve only met her twice.’

‘I told you she’s very friendly. Besides, you’ve only really met her once.’

The image flashed back in his head of his friend dominating the small Thai girl. ‘I need to talk to you about that second time.’

Tony frowned. ‘You’re not going to say anything to Angela are you?’

‘It doesn’t look like you’ve quit the habit though.’

Tony shrugged. ‘You wouldn’t either if you had Janjira. She’s incredible, Mark, the things she can do to your cock. When she’s sucking it. When she’s riding it. Man, when she’s riding it, that’s the best. She’s only small, but the things she can do. I’ve never cum like it.’

Mark held up a hand. ‘Christ, I don’t need the details.’ Then he thought of what he had come for. ‘Well, one, maybe.’

‘Go on.’

‘Is she a ladyboy?’

For a brief moment, Tony was offended. Then he smiled. ‘Yes’ he said, ‘It’s true. How did you know?’

‘My wife is using the same housemaid company as Angela.’

Tony laughed. ‘So what does your one look like?’

Mark described Lisa. He tried not to go into too much detail, but he explained the long legs and the large breasts and the knowing smile.

‘Shit,’ Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘You’re in for a real treat.’

‘I’m not interested in ladyboys.’

‘But you should be,’ Tony said. ‘Do you want to try out Janjira? See what it’s like to have the little ladyboy slut riding you?’

‘You’re a pervert,’ Mark said.

Tony shrugged again. ‘So what? I’m having the time of my life.’

For the next week, Mark tried not to think of his friend’s adultery. Even when Susan mentioned that Angela would be coming back early from the trip to her mother’s. Mark made no mention of what might be waiting for her. Nor did he say anything to Tony. None of it was his business. He was best out of the whole mess.

That was what he was thinking as he answered the door to Lisa. She gave him a wide smile when she saw him. She looked so feminine that he still couldn’t believe she was a ladyboy. He also couldn’t believe what she was wearing. A skimpy maid’s outfit, with her breasts pushed up and a frilly skirt that barely made it four inches past her crotch. Her long tanned legs were on full display and she was wearing a dark red lipstick that accentuated her lips and made them look wet and soft. How could this not be a woman?

‘Morning, Mark,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek as she came inside.

He watched her go straight upstairs and found himself admiring her legs as she went. He told himself to snap out of it. Then he heard her calling to him from the bedroom. He followed after her.

He walked into the room and he couldn’t see her. The bed was already made – not of course by Lisa but by Susan. It had been her parent’s bed, before Mark and Susan had taken it for their house. It had been the bed they’d used when they’d made love for the first time, and it had been their bed for their wedding night. It held a special significance in Susan’s heart. Next to that was the photograph from their wedding five years before. Susan had been in her element that day, controlling everything, bossing the bridesmaids and the ushers. She had looked beautiful though.

He turned round to try and spot Lisa. He caught a sight of himself in the full-size mirror that reflected back onto the bed, then two hands were covering his eyes. He caught a scent of jasmine.

‘Sneaking into a girl’s bedroom is very bad,’ a sultry voice said.

‘But this isn’t your bedroom,’ Mark said. He lowered her hands.

Lisa stepped to the side and he found himself again looking at the top of her breasts which were trying to burst out of her top. The idea of this ladyboy in his bedroom, dressed in a sexy maid’s outfit and calling herself a girl, was unsettling.

‘So, do you want me here?’ she said.

He stumbled over a reply. ‘What?’

‘Do you want me here?’ Then she playfully pushed him in the chest, digging her long red fingernails into him. He told himself again that this was a ladyboy standing in front of him. It wasn’t a normal girl wearing this slutty maid costume, but a chick with a dick.

‘Yes, start here,’ was all he managed to say.

But instead, she walked over to photograph of Mark and Susan.

‘It was always my dream to get married,’ Lisa said, drawing one of her slender fingers down the picture and smiling at Mark. ‘I always wanted to find a man who would buy me a beautiful white wedding dress, a man who would look after me and make love to me whenever I wanted.’

Mark gulped. It had been a while since himself and Susan had done anything like that. He realised his gaze had drifted down to Lisa’s crotch.

Then there was the sound of coughing. Susan had appeared at the door. ‘We make a good couple, don’t we?’ she said.

Lisa’s smile grew wider. ‘A very good couple.’

‘Back to work Lisa, like a good girl.’

Mark couldn’t help note the sarcastic way Susan said the last word.

Later in the afternoon, he found Lisa struggling to pull down the ladder to the attic. Mark had to walk round her back to help steady the weight, and for a moment was pressing his body into hers. He could smell the flowery shampoo she’d used in her hair as they lowered the ladder. She almost let the ladder fall and he had to run his hand past her arm to stop, and he felt her smooth soft skin under his touch.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

He backed away. That had felt weird. ‘What are you trying to get up there for anyway?’

‘Susan said the attic was the dirtiest place and that I should work there.’ She looked hurt. ‘I don’t think she likes me. Do you like me, Mr. Reynolds?’

Mark rubbed his jaw. ‘You don’t have to call me that. You can call me Mark.’

She gazed at the floor. ‘You think I’m dirty too,’ she said. ‘Because I’m a ladyboy.’

‘I’ve just never met one before.’

‘I’ll be a good maid for you,’ she said. ‘I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.’

‘Ok,’ he said, not sure what else to add. ‘I should hold the ladder steady for you.’

He stood underneath her as she climbed, and he found he was staring straight up her legs to where her skirt parted. There was a dark patch at her groin. She looked back down, and gave him a knowing smile. ‘Come up if you like, Mark. I’ll need help.’

‘I’d better not,’ he said, letting go of the ladder as it were boiling hot.

‘A shame,’ she said. ‘I always like a man’s hands to help me.’

A week later Lisa returned to the house. She walked up the driveway with an elegant stride, her dark hair waxy and shiny. She was wearing skintight black leather trousers and a white cashmere jumper that showed the shape of her breasts. As soon as Mark saw her, he felt his erection growing.

Maybe that was why he did something so stupid.

When Lisa went to walk through the door, he didn’t step out of the way. To get past, she had to press her arse against his crotch. She lingered there, letting his cock press against the crack between her buttocks. Only when it had rested there for a while did she walk through into the house.

‘You should go and see Susan,’ Mark said. ‘She’s got a special job planned for today.’

Lisa smiled at him. ‘Sure, Mr. Reynolds.’

The special job, in truth, was to do some shopping. They all went to the supermarket together, but whilst Susan went round ordering large items, Mark and Lisa went over to the groceries section. As they walked along the aisles Mark began to wonder if people would think Lisa was with him, and if so what would they think? The leather trousers showed the perfect shape of her arse, there was the cute white cashmere jumper that hugged her breasts and there was her feminine laugh that she would make whenever he told a joke. And then he would think of what was between her legs. It was almost impossible

‘Got everything,’ Susan said. ‘Let’s go.’

Susan had ordered new equipment for the house, a huge TV and stereo system. Mark had to lug it all to the car. He loaded them into the passenger seat, and then was surprised to find his wife wanted to drive.

‘I don’t trust you to drive with all this expensive equipment,’ she said.

Mark shrugged, he didn’t care. What it did mean though was that he was in the back with Lisa. With all the groceries that they’d bought, there was barely enough room to fit one person in.

‘Just sit on each other,’ Susan said, keen to get back to the house.

Lisa gave a brief smile, her luscious red lips parting to show her perfect white teeth. She stepped aside to let Mark get in, then climbed in after him.

‘Buckle up,’ Susan said.

Lisa laughed. ‘We can’t fit.’ She adjusted her position on Mark’s lap. Her fingers dug into his thighs as she moved. Mark could smell the perfume on her neck and could feel the pressure of her body as she sat on him. She wriggled round, and then eased her arse into his groin. She knew what she was doing. He was getting hard.

Maybe nothing more would have happened, if they hadn’t hit traffic.

Susan got impatient, so she took them onto side roads to get back. The movement of the car forced Lisa to shift her position, and it gave her a chance to move her firm arse over Mark’s cock. She began to massage his penis and Mark grew raging hard. A tentpole in his trousers prodding against the leather of Lisa’s trousers, pushing against her buttocks. Then the car suddenly broke, and Lisa leaned fully back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her breath warm and light.

‘That’s alright,’ Mark replied. He put his hands around her waist to shift her back into position, but he found he let them linger.

Lisa leaned further back, making a small moan when she pressed against his cock. His dick was like rock now, flattened down and pressing against the extra mound in her crotch. He knew then that his cock was touching her cock. She whispered to him, ‘What would your wife say if she knew you were dying to push your cock up my ladyboy ass?’

‘What was that?’ Susan said from the front. She had heard something, but not enough to understand.

‘Nothing,’ Mark said. He pushed Lisa forwards on his lap. But in response, she leaned round and placed her hand on top of his dick. She began to rub it through his trousers.

‘Be a good boy,’ she said.

He was panicking, thinking that Susan would see and also thinking of what was in Lisa’s panties. The dirty secret she hid away there. ‘Get off,’ he said.

The feeling, though, was so pleasurable, that he couldn’t bring himself to lift her away. She made slight moans as she pushed on his cock, then she suddenly stopped. She leant back again and whispered to him, ‘I’d love to feel your hard cock inside me.’

‘It’s not going to happen,’ Mark said. But he was already wondering what would happen when it did.

He avoided Lisa for the next couple of weeks. He concentrated on being a good husband, taking Susan out to dinner, coming home early for work to spend time with her and doing odd-jobs around the house that he’d been avoiding.

Then on the morning after Lisa had been, Susan noticed her wedding ring was missing. ‘Have you seen it?’ she asked Mark. He shrugged, and didn’t think of it again until later in the day when he was surprised to see Lisa inside his house. She had cornered him fixing one of the light bulbs that hung above the mirror in the bedroom. She was wearing denim shorts that showed off her tanned brown legs and a tight t-shirt that strained against her breasts. She was braless and he could see her nipples that pressed against the material of her top. Her feet were naked too and her lips were bright red. She was smiling devilishly.

‘I wanted to talk about the other day,’ she said. ‘When we were in the car.’

‘I’m not going to discuss that,’ Mark said. Then he saw what she was wearing on her hand. ‘Whose ring is that?’

‘Your wife’s,’ she said. ‘I thought I should wear it.’

Warning: This story contains explicit non-consensual sex scenes between transsexuals and men. If this sort of content offends you please do not read it.


The country was one of the many critically poor Asian countries that welcome foreigners with a lot more than open arms. In the rural fields they grew the usual subsistence tropical crops of rice, exotic fruit and palm trees. These fields were dotted with small dark skinned men in wide brimmed hats working slowly but methodically under the harsh and baking sun. Education was not a right there, it was a rare privilege given just to the children from rich families and to the very bright who were fortunate enough to find a sponsor. The cities attracted the tourists, and the tourists attracted the children of the poor farming families. These uneducated and inexperienced youngsters flocked to the cities with dreams of wealth, and with grand plans that consisted mostly of working hard, doing well and sending money back to their impoverished parents. The physically attractive ones usually ended up in the bars renting their bodies to the ugly but rich foreigners for a half hour, and hour or a night. The unattractive ones were preyed upon by the unscrupulous city businessmen who hired them into sweat shops as virtual slave labour. Nobody did anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

The city was vibrant and exciting at night. The noisy sweat soaked streets were lit by garish neon signs, the rhythmic thumping of the dance music and the refreshing spray of a mist of water enticed the unsteady half-drunk tourists into the cool air conditioned bars where the scantily clad girls plied their trade. The smell of the streets mingled the mouth-watering odour of the freshly cooked food in the kerbside stalls and the rancid reek of decaying rubbish. Any foreign men walking past were constantly beckoned from the cool doorways, ‘Massage mister?’ the strident exotic voices cried enticingly over the din of the cars, the motorbikes, the spruiking stall holders and the general hubbub of the streets.

Genuine massages were very rare, these girls only wanted to massage the money out of the men’s wallets using whatever method they had to employ. Sex in this city was a not for pleasure, it was a very busy and lucrative business. Half obscured shapes waited in the darker shadows, calling with rougher voices and more desperation. These were the less attractive working girls, the old, the ugly, the diseased and the scarred. In certain areas young men were available for those who preferred that sort of company and somewhere in between were the lady boys, the mostly female looking sex workers who usually had fake breasts and a penis tucked up out of sight. Many a time an unwary tourist didn’t manage to pick the difference and got quite a surprise when they went to his room. Even at night he streets of the city were safe enough if the tourist stayed in the bright lights, with the biggest risks being a stolen wallet, a working girl absconding before completing her side of the bargain (‘I must ring my sister, I will come straight back…’ was one of the usual tricks used) or a Policeman who was short on cash and who saw an opportunity when an unsuspecting tourist dropped his cigarette butt or drink bottle amongst the piles of rubbish in the street. Nobody did anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

There were two normal types of tourist in this, the sleaziest part of town. There was the lone male, usually middle aged and less than handsome, and often either married or newly divorced. He was there for the ego boost of being the one the pretty girls all wanted, and he often spent a lot of time drinking, and buying ‘lady drinks’ (usually extremely expensive coloured water) before finally choosing a girl to leave with. Despite the optimistic name for the drinks he wasn’t really interested in a lady, he just wanted a whore. Often he drank so heavily that when he did eventually choose he couldn’t perform anyway.

Some of these lone men were specifically searching for the boys or the lady boys. These men were bored with plain ‘vanilla’ sex and wanted something new, something different. The exciting, exotic and anonymously remote location combined with the copious quantities of alcohol tended to relax their deep seated inhibitions, and allowed them to explore their curiosity. Most of the first type of tourists regretted every morning what they still continued to do that and every night.

The second type of tourists travelled in packs. Usually much younger these men were often more interested in just ‘having a good time’. A good time mostly consisted of copious quantities of alcohol (again) and something interesting to watch, usually a show of some sort involving nudity and preferably vaginal gymnastics as well. The second type of tourist was more rowdy, more aggressive and tended to spend less. Both types of tourist generally didn’t care about the local people’s customs or the laws of the country, and almost always treated everyone badly. Nobody did anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

The group of five men stood out from a distance. Their immaculate dress uniforms were designed to do that anyway, but these men turned the uniform into something else. Something ominous. Even when drunk these men carried themselves with an air of athletic confidence that was bordering on menace. People got out of their way as they approached and the seething masses of humanity who were crowded onto the footpaths parted in front of them as if by magic. The men were large too. Large in height, large in bulk and exceptionally large in presence. They proudly wore the badges that labelled them the elite of their service, the crème de la crème. But superior combat training does not always instil common sense, and these men were half drunk, frustrated and angry. It was their last night in town and they were bored with it. They were bored with the nightclubs, bored with the strip joints, bored with the sex shows and bored with the fawning local population who seemed to be endlessly focussed on their now severely depleted wallets. They wanted a fight and a last roll with a whore before returning to duty, but neither seemed to be likely. The local people would not stand up to them in a fight and the pretty girls disappeared as soon as they realised there was no money left to be had, and all they were going to get was roughly felt up in public. Nobody did anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

Most foreign people kept away from the dark alleys, they had a dangerous reputation. But the five men were sick of the constant crowds and totally unafraid, so they stalked through the back streets, laughing derisively as shadows approached and then shrunk away rapidly.

“Useless fucking country,” one shouted at a departing figure, “and useless fucking people too.”

“Yeah,” another agreed, “just a bunch of little brown chicken shit losers.”

It was bad luck for the girl on the doorstep of her own run down home that she had chosen that moment to take a break from her school books and step outside where there was a slight breeze, but she saw the men coming, shrieked loudly and ran. Without thinking the men responded and took off in pursuit. The chase was swift and brief. The girl stumbled and fell, and the five men pounced on her.

Even then things didn’t have to turn out badly.

“What should we do with this one?” one man asked as they held the tiny squirming body.

“Spank her and send her home?” another laughed, keeping a hand firmly over her mouth to stop her from screaming. Most of them laughed with him, but one man’s hand had strayed as he held her, and he had found an area that was warm, soft and inviting.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said quietly, and the others turned to listen.

The men instinctively chose a good defensive position when they dragged the girl away. They found a short, dark alley with just the one way in. They had two men on guard, two men to restrain the girl and keep her from making noise while the first one, the one whose idea it had been, raped her. Then they swapped and another man took his turn. Then another. They knew that nobody would do anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

But even the meek have unlikely heroes.

There were still a few local people going about their business who walked past the end of the alley, so the small group of working girls in short dresses who were heralded from afar by the clicking of high heels on the paving did not worry the two men standing in the shadows. They eyed the approaching girls with only partial interest, each idly selecting in his mind the one that they would most like to fuck, choosing from vaguely distinguished figures, hairstyles and the way they walked. Neither of them sensed any danger, so when the Tasers hit them they collapsed in surprise without any resistance. One of the men holding the victim saw the movement and whispered the alarm to the others, but as they turned five more girls with Tasers were standing between them and the exit. It was over in moments, and one of the rescuers went to comfort the whimpering, sobbing victim.

“It is all over now,” she whispered gently in their own language as she helped the girl to try to fix her ripped dress, “at least it is for you.”

Within moments the five large men were securely trussed with cable ties, gagged and hooded. A small crowd had gathered at the end of the alley, but it was made up entirely of working girls, and they shielded the weakly struggling forms in the alley from the view of any other passers-by. A small bottle and a cloth soon arrived, and this put a halt to any struggles. About ten minutes later a small van stopped across the entrance to the alley. It progressively got lower and lower to the ground as the gang of girls struggled to manoeuvre the not inconsiderable dead weight of the unconscious men in through a side door. The van poured blue smoke into the night as it struggled to pull away, and the smell of burning clutch and burning oil lingered as the crowd dispersed as quickly as it had appeared. The five men had been overpowered and abducted. Nobody did anything about it, because that was just the way it was.

Rob was the last of the men to regain consciousness, and like the others he was initially dazed and disoriented. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry enough for his tongue to swell. He realised he was naked and lay face down across a sturdy bench that only supported his stomach. His wrists and ankles were secured to rings in the floor; a wide strap held his torso firmly to the bench and a gag prevented him from talking. He turned his throbbing head and saw the other men were all secured in the same way and they were arranged in a circle facing in toward each other. Rob tested the restraints that held him, and found no give at all. He was trapped. The room they were in was easily large enough to fit them all in, with plenty of space to spare, and it was lit by four single globes dangling in stained cloth shades that cast strangely shaped shadows across the captive men. The floor was vibrating from a relentless techno beat that sounded like it was coming from the next room. He could faintly hear voices behind the music, and it sounded like there was a party going on. Finally he remembered the events that had gone before, and he wondered how long ago that was, because he had obviously been drugged and didn’t know how long he had been out.

Suddenly Rob felt the fear that he now recognised in the eyes of the others, and this was an emotion that none of them was familiar with. He knew that there would be people out looking for them eventually, but that might take some time. First they would be listed as AWOL, and the normal searches of the bars and massage parlours would start. It would be quite a few days before anyone was actually worried for their safety. He felt the pain in his muscles where his whole body had clenched. Rob had never been hit with a Taser before, and he couldn’t believe how debilitating it had been, he had totally and instantly lost control of any deliberate movement, and had been rendered completely helpless. Despite his extensive training in unarmed combat he had been easily beaten by an untrained skinny whore who was probably only about a quarter of his weight. Now he couldn’t do anything about it, and that was just the way it was.

Rob waited for what felt like a long time wondering what was going to happen to them, but eventually a tall woman walked into the room and stood in the middle of the circle. She was more than just attractive, she was truly beautiful. Her long straight jet black hair was parted in the middle, and it fell halfway down her back. Her face was exquisite; her almond shaped black eyes smouldering over finely chiselled cheek bones. She wore a top hat, a set of sparkling red tails, red stilettos and a small red pair of bikini bottoms. The tails were loose enough for occasional glimpses of her pert breasts as she moved. They were perfect. She carried a long whip, and Rob shivered again in fear. It looked like their punishment was going to be meted out without any legal recourse.

“You,” the woman cried, shouting to be heard over the music, “all been bad.” She turned a full circle staring at all of them.

“Very bad.” Again she turned around, and Rob was distracted by an enticing flash of breast.

“What you do is not law in you country, and is not law here too, but if police get you then just buy way out.” She turned around yet again.

“All you had now belong to girl you rape. You wallet, little as money was, you watch, you jewel, you uniform, all of you thing. Think what some people pay just for uniform.” She stared at each one as they took stock of what they had lost. Rob had been wearing the watch that his late father had left him in his will, and he knew he would never be able to explain to his mother how he had lost it. And how could he explain the loss of his service tags and uniform?

“Now you hope there is way to get out of this with no trouble,” she said, and then smiled menacingly, “well there not. You is wild animal, but you is caught and take to my circus. I am ringmaster, and tonight I going to teach you some very good trick… Girl?” she called, and four more beautiful women entered the room, all dressed the same as the first, but with different coloured costumes. A girl in blue came and stood beside Rob.

“What you have to say for you?” The red girl shouted, and then pointed at the green girl, who was standing next to Carl. She removed his gag.

“Help,” Carl cried in a raspy voice, “we are being held against our wills.” Surprisingly the girls didn’t try to replace the gag, and let Carl call out for help for some time. When his voice finally gave out the gag was replaced.

“We in private room of a very special sex club,” the red girl explained, “call for help, cry in pain are always. You not heard from music anyway.” She pointed at the yellow girl next to Rudy, and his gag was removed.

“I didn’t rape her,” he said quickly, “I was at the far end of the alley.” Rob shook his head slowly, he too had not actually raped the girl, but he had expected them all to be strong enough to stick together.

“No,” the red girl said, “but you was guard so others could, you help to happen, you just as bad too.” Rudy opened his mouth and then closed it again, and his gag was put back on. The red girl pointed to the purple girl who was next to Steff. He had been the one who made the first suggestion, and the one who had gone first, and he came out swinging when his gag came off.

“I’m going to tear you limb from limb,” he shouted angrily, “I will kill you all and it will take you days to die.” The red girl nodded, and Steff’s gag was put back on.

“Has always to be one,” the red girl said, walking across to him.

“You,” she shouted, raising her whip, “in no place to make threat.” She slashed the whip across his back viciously, leaving an angry welt. Steff jerked as far as his restraints would allow.

“I not yet choose if any of you live long to get out of this chains, but you no make threats here and live.” She whipped him again across the back as his blood began to trickle from the first strike, and then she walked back to the centre.

“Me tell you of rule of ten,” she said. “All thing you do will be give back ten time. If I take day to die from you then you take ten day to die from my friend… You,” she said pointing at Rob. He felt the gag being removed, and stared up at the red girl.

“We were wrong,” he said, hoping that things would go better if he said what they wanted to hear, “and I’m sorry, but I don’t think sorry will be enough.” The gag was replaced.

“No,” the red girl replied simply, obviously unconvinced, “it not.” She pointed at Jimmy, and the purple girl moved over to him.

“We are servicemen,” he said, “and this will create an international incident. You’d better let us go while you still can.” The gag was replaced.

“Not any hope,” the red girl said, smiling evilly, “who would believe bad man who rape young girl? And I not start to train you yet.” She walked over to Steff, and then stood behind him. The other girls all went behind the men too.

“First,” the red girl said, “we teach you what is right.” She squatted down behind Steff and Rob jumped as he felt soft lips encircling his cock. He knew that no matter how good this felt to begin with, it was not going to stay nice, and he was very scared. Looking around he saw that all the girls had dropped down behind the men and, judging by the surprised looks on the men’s faces, they all had taken a cock into their mouths.

Despite his concern over what would happen next Rob felt himself responding quickly to the blue girl’s attentions. She was alternating between sucking his cock right down to the base and nibbling around it, gently sucking and biting as she went. As his cock grew to full size he was amazed that she continued to deep throat him, no woman had ever done that to him before when he was fully excited. Looking around Rob saw that his friends all were getting similar treatment and Steff, who was always an arrogant prick, caught Rob’s eye and tried to grin through his gag while raising his eyebrows repeatedly. Rob looked away quickly; he was already in enough trouble because of Steff.

Rob saw Carl’s head jerk and saw sudden confusion on Carl’s face and then he jumped too as he felt the girl who was sucking his cock rub across his asshole with a finger. The thought revolted him, and he tried to pull away, but the strap around his waist held him tight. The touch was brief, and he tensed up waiting to see if it would be repeated. It was, and this time for longer. He tried to hold his cheeks together, but she still managed to get access. Rob was confused, his hard cock was enjoying the best oral sex he had ever experienced, but the girl kept rubbing his asshole. He tried hard not to like it, but eventually realised it was contributing greatly to his pleasure. It was nice, well more than nice; it was really turning him on.

Rob was trying hard not to let his face show that he was enjoying this. He looked down at the floor to avoid seeing if anyone else was too. From what he had seen so far everything that was being done to him was also being done to the others. The girl was rubbing a wet finger on his asshole now, and just occasionally pushing her finger against the tight ring. Again he tried to clench and stop her, but she seemed to know and press her finger down every time he relaxed even just a little bit.

The music from next door was still thumping, and Rob was happy that was the case as a moan escaped from behind his gag. His cock was as hard as it had ever been, and he knew he would cum soon the way the girl was going. She had finally worked a slick finger into his ass and it felt great, rubbing on sensitive nerves that had never been stimulated like that before. There was no pain, just a little bit of initial discomfort, but soon the pleasure overwhelmed that. Rob briefly looked up, but quickly looked down again when he saw a funny look on Jimmy’s face. He was enjoying his treatment too. Rob felt another finger slipping into his ass, and his powerless legs shook with the sweet combination of pleasure and pain.

I’m a workaholic by nature. I love my job but that’s not why I work so much. I work long hours simply because when I get home I don’t quite have anything productive to do. I just sit down in front of the television or I chat over the internet. Life at home is dull so the best solution seems to be engaged in work.

Often on Friday, after work, I head to the local club with a few friends and I end up bringing a girl home. Women love me and I love women. Of course I’ve also had encounters with the men folk but then to everyone in my social clique I put up a straight mask.

This sexual encounter happened about a couple of months back. It was Friday evening and I went home hurriedly after work to get ready to go to the club. I wore something casual and put on some Hugo Boss to smell great. The club was a great place to meet people (as usual). We went in as a group and my friends and I were together for like half an hour before we spread out in different directions to get us some pussy. As I scouted the club for something real delicious to take home a woman by the bar caught my eye. She looked great, brunette, fair, around 5’5 and slender. I walked up to the bar and sat by a chair that was vacant beside her.

“I have to say I’m quite regular here and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. You just moved in?” I said that putting on my best smile in an effort to come on friendly.

“Yup, I’m new here. I’m on some work assignment,” she said that appearing quite friendly.”

“You’re on a work assignment at a club? Are you like spying on someone? Or are you working undercover on some top secret assignment like in the movies?” I said that with a cheeky tone that made me sound a mixture of goofy and playful.

“I wish. I’m an accountant. Worked really hard the past few days so I thought I’d just visit here and get social to relax.” She said sounding like she was the CEO of some law firm.

“Isn’t that something now? Two workaholics deciding this very day to get social and relax; I’m pretty sure that’s plain coincidence.”

She smiled and with that I knew I was going home with this lovely lady tonight. We talked for a bit, then we danced, and after an hour or so of dancing I offered her a drive in my Cadillac. “Common, I know this great place, it’ll just soothe you.” That’s all I needed to say to get this beauty in my car.

With the rapport we had going there was no chance she was going to say no. We jumped into my Cadillac and I drove her around a while. We were heading to my apartment. I parked the car and rushed on the other side to open her door.

“So you bring me to your flat?”

“Please, I like to call it a house. It’s got this homely, cozy feel to it, you’ll see.”

“So you bring me to your home?” She said sarcastically.

“Yeah well can you blame me? I promised you a great place that’d soothe you now didn’t I? Just follow me and you’ll thank me for this.” I said that in a cocky tone.

Soon we were outside my apartment, ready to enter. I opened the door and as expected my “house” did wow her. I could see her face light up, like a small kid looking up at stars that shine bright in the sky. The 29th penthouse floor overview was one of the best in town. I made her a blender’s pride drink and dimmed the lights to a bare minimum. I also put on some really classic music, love music. I knew I was getting lucky soon as this routine had never failed.

“Quite a good view isn’t it?”

“It’s great. The apartment’s great. How rich are you?”

“Rich enough to wow you, I guess.” I said that trying to sound a little snobbish yet playful. “Come let’s have a tour of the house.” The “house” was perfect at least that’s what everyone kept saying. When you’re a rich guy and the C.E.O. of a very fast growing company that had just gone public, you can pretty much afford anything you fancy. I had great furniture, great art hanging on the walls, great lighting, a great fireplace and the paint and tiles were great too.

Shonda was clearly impressed with this work of art. After a great tour of the house, we sat on the couch and talked about life in general. After a couple of more drinks I moved in a little closer to “talk”. As Shonda kept talking I just sat quite and looked into her eyes and after a while she knew I was in the mood to kiss her. Shonda stopped talking and after a moment of silence, I placed my hands on her thighs and I leaned in to kiss her. She was quite accepting as she opened her mouth for my tongue to enter. Soon we were kissing passionately on the couch.

I suggested we move to the bed room which had a more sensual feeling. I directed her to the bedroom by her hand. I sat on the edge of the bed and Shonda came up to me, standing in front of me. I pulled her to me and soon she was sitting on my lap with her slender legs by my side. We kissed for sometime and then I lowered my face to her cleavage. I kissed her breasts with her blouse on. She let out a “yeah” that sounded like a “yeah” one would do when your team makes a bucket. She backed up and stood up in front of me and then undid her blouse exposing her amazing tits. She stood semi-nude in front of me and I stood up to suck on her amazing tits. I chewed on her nipples with my hands groping her ass still covered by her skirt. I went back to kissing in between her breasts and then I went back to the neck as we ended up French kissing again. I quickly undressed and then I proceeded to undress this goddess.

“Clint you need to know something,” she said with a shaky voice, resisting me from undressing her further.

“There’s something that’s important enough to say now?”

“Yeah well… You know I’m a, you know…’”

I wasn’t going to listen to her now. I was in the heat of the moment and this wasn’t the time for emotional talk. I pulled down her skirt and to my surprise I saw a bulge in her underwear. “What the hell is this shit?” I said in amusement.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to say. I am a, you know, a shemale, a girl with a cock, a ladyboy, you know…” she said in an awkward tone.

“Holy shit” was all I said and with that I pulled down her underwear in curiosity. Out sprang an erect penis around 6 inches in length, uncircumcised. I was in awe for a moment or two. It looked beautiful. It looked familiar to mine only that mine was darker and half an inch or so bigger. I slowly pushed the foreskin back and exposed the whole head. The urge to suck it came naturally to me.

I gave her penis a few good licks and then took the head in my mouth. I played around the edges of the penis with my tongue, tickling her foreskin as she was letting out soft moans. I slowly but steadily began to furiously suck on her penis. Within a few minutes of furious sucking she blew her load into my mouth without any warning. I felt obligated to swallow her semen which tasted quite tasty compared to mine (thanks to a meat and fish diet).

“Oh Clint, that was awesome. Was that your first time?”

“Well, I’ve been with a few guys before so… but this feels so much better”

“Better? This is mind fucking good. Now it’s my turn to return a favor.”

With that she gently pushed me on my back on the bed and she got to work. Shonda really knew what she was supposed to do. She was electrocuting my sensual nerves into euphoria. She took my penis in her mouth and began to suck on it furiously. I stopped her and sat up towards the edge of the bed. Shonda got down on her knees and took my penis in her mouth. I placed my hands over her head and gently directed her down and up to get her in a rhythm. She seemed quite talented in giving a blow job and she was took my penis in her mouth whole. She was choking her self on the thing and I knew she was enjoying her self. Her saliva dripped onto my penis and it tickled me as it dripped further down to my balls. I warned her before I could blow off my load. Shonda wasn’t going to stop though, and she got just more furious with the sucking and I felt like I was a water hose ready to blow out a fire with the pressure building in my penis. I blew a monster load of sperm right at the back of her throat. She coughed spitting a little out but then she licked it all back like someone who was thirsty for days. I felt truly blessed.

I brought her up to the bed and we kissed again passionately. We exchanged saliva that had a little flavor of our sperms and it felt nice. After what seemed to last for ages I turned her and caressed her ass. I bit gently into her flesh and she liked it. I spread her ass cheeks and spat onto her asshole. It looked beautiful. I spat some more on it and then gave it a good lick. I slowly placed two fingers into her ass and felt her moist insides. Shonda let out a lil moan of sorts and with that I began to move my fingers in and out her ass in a gentle manner.

“Oh Clint, it feels so good, I want you to fuck me right now hard.”

“Like I was going to let go of this ass,” I thought to myself. I removed my fingers out her ass. I then slowly inserted my rock hard penis into her ass and left it there a moment for her to get comfortable. With my rock hard penis inside of her I fondled her penis with my right hand. Then I began to move my penis in and out of her ass very slowly at first. Shonda let out a huge moan and begged me to “give it to her nice.”

In a matter of minutes I was pumping in and out of her ass real hard and she was in ecstasy land. Occasionally I removed out my penis and saw her gaping asshole. It looked like a work of art. After a while of fucking her from the back, I turned her over and we kissed for a while again. I then laid myself on the bed and Shonda climbed on top of me I laid my hands over her hips and I was giving it to Shonda “nice.”

‘Oh fuck. Fucking hell yeah. God yeah…” Shonda wasn’t going to keep low her moans.

After a while of fucking her hard on top of me I moved her into the missionary position. With her legs over my shoulders I entered into her ass for a third round of great pounding. She let out a wild scream that only made me want to fuck her harder. I entered her warm ass and began to quickly bang it. She masturbated with her penis and within a few minutes it spat sperms on her stomach. I felt obliged to lick off her cum. I gave her ass a few more real hard thrusts and then I removed my penis from her asshole and dived in to lick off her drops of cum. I licked it all from her stomach and collected her semen into my mouth as I moved higher towards her breasts. I sucked once again on her erect nipples and then I kissed her again. I delivered in her mouth her semen.

Shonda kept her hands busy giving me a good handjob. She lowered herself to suck my penis once more. I knew I was very close to shooting out cum again. It only took me a couple or so minutes to blow it all once more straight into her mouth. I emptied the tank this time and I knew it. Shonda just looked up at me and swallowed it all with a gulp. I brought her up and we kissed again.

After about an hour and a bit of passionate love making I was exhausted. Shonda was blown out her self. We retired to bed as I switched off the lights. I placed my leg over hers and my right hand cupped her now flaccid penis and testicles. I kissed her on the back of her shoulder and we drifted off to sleep.

Melody and Harmony were lesbian lovers.

Their real names weren’t Melody and Harmony, but Gretchen Smart and Cynthia Howard. However, Melody and Harmony were a duet, and, as such, they thought, as did their agent, Mindy Swanson, that the duo needed stage names with more pizzazz. Like their same-sex orientation, their stage names added appeal to their cute faces and curvy figures. The fact that they actually could sing was almost an afterthought to their success as singers.

Like Madonna, they knew how to reinvent themselves and how to reinvigorate their career. When a new idol had threatened to steal their thunder, they’d intimated, through their publicist, Betty Walters, that they were on the brink of a breakup. The tabloids ran countless articles, accompanied by photographs, many of which had been doctored, showing the “lesbian lyricists” on the verge of “splitting up,” their authors citing “irreconcilable differences” between “pop music’s most cuddlesome crooners.” Within a month, the new idol was forgotten, her rising star now fallen.

Likewise, when the Peppermints, a skyrocketing all-girl group, endangered the female faggots’ popularity, Melody and Harmony responded by releasing “Melody and Harmony,” which sold in the millions, eclipsing the Peppermints’ meteoric rise. The song was semi-autobiographical, its lyrics telling of how they’d met, developed mutual crushes upon each other, engaged in first-time lesbian sex with one another, and become lovers with no further use for men as sex partners. Their fans, who were numerous, especially among lesbians, knew the words to the song by heart, having played it incessantly.

The same-sex singers’ greatest threat, however, was posed by the so-called Princess of Pop, a black bitch by the name of Panther. She brought a level of lewdness to her performances that was mesmerizing. Just short of “indecent,” her pelvic thrusts and gyrations left her audiences, female as well as male members among them, aroused and clamoring for more. Her every performance was met with cries of “Encore!” and “More!” As Panther’s career became a true overnight sensation, that of Melody and Harmony’s took a corresponding nosedive. Trade journals, no less than tabloids, wondered whether the “once-popular pop tarts’ career was finally hurtling toward oblivion.”

The duo’s first impulse had been to fight fire with fire, and they began to include steamy, suggestive pantomimes of lesbian sexual activities into their performances. While they sang of their undying love, they kissed, caressed, and bumped their hips or ground their buttocks against one another. At first, this tactic seemed to work. Their ticket sales and CD sales both climbed. Panther’s, however, never flagged, and, in a few weeks’ time, after she’d added a couple of male dancers, one black and the other white, to her routine, simulating sex with them onstage, as she belted out the blues or poured pop lyrics over the teeming crowd of her audience, it was clear that Panther wasn’t going away any time soon and that, every day, she was eroding Harmony’s and Melody’s appeal. Lesbianism was chic, but in-your-face heterosexual sex among mixed African-American and Caucasian dancers was hard to beat, as was the fact that Panther’s vocal range was phenomenal, whereas both Harmony’s and Melody’s was, at best, minimal.

It was Betty who came up with what she–and her clients–hoped would be the solution to what they’d come to refer to as “the Panther problem,” and, more and more, celebrity rags began to hint at a “huge secret” that the “Sapphic singers” were “hiding” from their “devoted followers.” Columnists wondered whether it was “fair of the pair to withhold from their fans whatever deep, dark secret they harbored,” and some writers demanded that they “care enough to share” this secret, whatever it was, with their “faithful fans.” It was time, a gay publication suggested, that the “lesbian lovebirds” “outed” themselves about whatever secret they were keeping.

Instead, Betty dropped hints. “Insiders” claimed, one tabloid announced, that “Melody and Harmony are seeing others.” Another publication proclaimed that, “according to reliable sources,” the singers were “adopting an orphaned girl, whom they planned to raise as a lesbian, like them.” A third periodical whispered the titillating thought that “maybe Melody and Harmony are really straight!” The girls let the rumor mill grind, and the demand that they share their secret, whatever it was, with their fans grew to enormous, thunderous dimensions. Their career was back on track, the pair again a runaway success, their every release gold.

Once again, they’d reinvigorated their career.

But Panther was tenacious. She ramped up her act, incorporating a striptease into her act, so that, by her final number, she was wearing only a pair of silk thongs and her buffed male dancers gyrated in sequined jockstraps. The heterosexual threat of Panther and Her Boys remained hard to beat, and, instead of Melody and Harmony leaving the “black sex goddess,” as the tabloids had dubbed “the Panther of pent-up desires,” in their wake, another fallen star, the duo found themselves in the fight of their lives. There was nothing left for them to do, they decided, but to “come clean” and divulge their secret–live, on stage, before thousands of their adoring fans, of course.

It was a calculated risk. They knew that they’d lose some fans immediately. Others might remain faithful, but their ardor would cool to the extent that they wouldn’t go out of their way to attend a concert or buy a CD. Moreover, it was all but certain that their revelation would end in their arrest, a hard-fought trial, and maybe even a period of incarceration. Such events could irrevocably harm or save their career. They decided that it was a risk they should take. Indeed, if they were to stop Panther, it was a risk they had to take. Betty announced that, three months from now, in August, during their performance at New York City’s Madison Square Garden, Melody and Harmony would finally reveal their secret to the world.


When configured for concerts, Madison Square Garden’s capacity is 20,000, and the stadium was filled to overflowing when Melody and Harmony stepped onto the stage. Under brilliant lights, they began their long-awaited Revelation Show, belting out the opening lyrics of their signature song, “Melody and Harmony”:

As soon as I saw her,

I had to see more;

She’s the harmony

To my melody,

And, since our first night

Together, we’ve been tight.

Just as they’d anticipated, the crowd went wild, standing, waving their arms and hands, cheering, shouting, and whistling. From the stage, the singers saw familiar banners: “Girl Power,” “Lesbian Singers Rock,” and “You Go, Girl!”

The music changed, signaling the introduction of new or altered verse, and the duet sang new lyrics in place of the original:

We’ve long had a secret

We cannot forget;

We’ve been dying to tell it,

Hoping it’s a hit

With our fans, the best in the world,

So, here it is, boys and girls.

The singers took off their halter tops, displaying their breasts. In New York, they knew, it was legal for women to exhibit their bosoms. On the great screen that depicted their every onstage posture and pose, their bare breasts were the size of Volkswagens. The crowd expressed its thunderous appreciation of the full, high, round tits that bounced and jiggled as the lesbian lyricists danced and gyrated.

Harmony twirled into Melody’s arms, and their breasts flattened against each other as the women embraced tightly, kissing. Their mouths opened to admit one another’s tongues, and the performers mouth-fucked each other with their stiff, probing oral appendages. Again, the gigantic screen exhibited their same-sex shenanigans to the cheering crowd. The enthusiasm of their fans was deafening.

As the performers continued to kiss, their open mouths sealed over each other, Harmony’s hands cupped Melody’s buttocks through Melody’s leather mini-skirt, and Melody gripped and squeezed the cheeks of her lover’s ass through the skin-tight, white jeans that Harmony wore. The crowd screamed, jumping for joy. “Panther’s career is as good as dead,” Harmony predicted. Melody nodded, and the girls sang the next stanza of their revised song:

We’re gay, and we’re proud

To sing it out loud,

But you already know that,

So lesbian love’s not the cat

We’ll let out of the bag

To set tongues a-wag.

Here, they paused to resume their French kissing, and their audience applauded. The new lyrics were dreadful, both singers agreed, but their fans, it seemed, were more than pleased with the revision to their signature song, and that was always all that really mattered–keeping the fans happy.

Behind them, Melody and Harmony had erected a pair of folding screens inlaid with their likenesses, captured in mosaic tiles. After a final hug, each singer scampered behind her screen. The music continued to play, and the ladies let the suspense build. No doubt, the audience was anticipating a costume change, but none of their many admirers could possibly know what the singers had in store for them.

At Harmony’s nod, the two performers emerged, and the huge screen showed the 20,000 fans gathered in the stadium a truly shocking sight–a revelation that would be headlined (and shown, in pixilated TV images and censored photographs) around the world this evening, tomorrow, and pretty much forever. Melody and Harmony were naked, their buoyant breasts, bouncing and jiggling as the duo sprinted toward one another, clearly displayed, as were their swinging cocks and balls! The huge screen showed the singers’ full, firm, high, round breasts; their fabulously feminine fannies; and their cute, boyish genitals, revealing to the world that the supposedly “lesbian lyricists” were, in fact, male-to-female transsexuals, or transwomen, who’d opted to retain, rather than to surrender, their male sex organs.

As the duo embraced, breasts pressing breasts and cocks and balls sliding and rolling against cocks and balls, kissing passionately, hands caressing breasts and buttocks and fondling pricks and testicles, the police rushed the stage, arresting the transsexual pop stars. Melody and Harmony were led away in handcuffs to the cheers, whistles, and shouts of their fans. That evening, it was clear to all, including Panther and Her Boys, who were watching in choice seats, live, as the arrests were being made, that the career of Melody and Harmony was anything but over. In fact, thanks to their Revelation Show, their star power had gone nova.

As Harmony told Melody, after their attorney had bailed them out of jail, “Heterosexual sex is hard to beat, even for lesbians as lovely as we, but nothing, least of all Panther and Her Boys, can compete against shemale sex!”

Melody agreed, kissing her transsexual-lesbian lover, and, her cock stiffening and swelling, like her nipples, testified to the truth of Harmony’s declaration.

It’s been a couple of months since my first all guy encounter and my life has changed somewhat. There have been numerous liaisons, with couples and single guys and I know that I’m now treading a fine line between my marriage, work and the sex I now crave.

As for my marriage things are normal, we have been together for years and as so often happens we have fallen into a pattern of having sexual contact less and less, not for any reason other than tiredness and the familiarity which such long relationships bring. I love my wife and am concerned that my actions will get found out and cause her any pain.

I do not seek a relationship, I seek excitement and uncomplicated sex. In my mind I differentiate this from affairs, I know I’m kidding myself and if it ever came to it there is no way I could explain it as such, but for me I suppose it hides the truth. I wrap the bi bit up as ,yes I like sex with either sex , but the drive to another man’s bed is strong, the sex seems more exciting. Even with this all going on in my head I convince myself that I’m doing no harm, as long as I keep it secret, a cliché and a lie to myself.

Work is a strange thing that alters over time, when I was young I was the go getter, the young man snapping at the heels of the older ones.

Working in the corporate world drags you down, the monotony, the circles of new ideas that come round and around, often being a slightly different version of previous failed ideas suddenly become tedious and showing the required enthusiasm for these is harder and harder to do.

The drive that was once there is stripped from you and a ever spiraling feeling of despair and pointlessness creeps in, once this happen I think it’s the beginning of the end, once you lose the self importance of this artificial world that corporate environments create you have had it.

You suddenly see that all the stress, all the worrying is really for nothing, the futile and meaningless drive for a bigger profit, the utter rubbish that becomes corporate world speak, the buzz words of the moment that are thrown out at every opportunity.

This and the move to dehumanize the workplace, to remove the human element, the emotion, the friendship and replace it with machines, these machine be they human ones are expected to work all hours, expected to hire and fire without conscience, expected to forgo everything for the money on offer.

Maybe it is age, maybe it is that one day you wake from the corporate dream and realise you have reached as far as you will get and maybe it’s the sudden realisation that the thing you thought was important are not, in the great scheme of things how many widgets you turn out and at what profit over doesn’t really matter. There are by far bigger problems in the world.

With this turmoil also brewing within me, my work rate drops, I have been in the corporate environment so long I can play the game, you can, if you so choose disappear, you can switch from doing above and beyond your job to barely doing it at all. It’s a game of odds, will the report you have to write actually be read, will it change before you have finished, making it a pointless exercise to write in the first place. You can make time, you can do very little and seem to be working normally. However once on this road you know deep down that you have to get out one day and soon.

With this new philosophy on work I create time, time where if I so wish I can go about my day time sexual exploits. Work however can throw a surprise or to into the mix.

One day, I’m called on to take the latest corporate vision to an international arm of the company in Amsterdam, it came out the blue and was a very welcome request. I live but an hour away from Amsterdam, the flight to Schiphol airport is quicker than the commute to the London office and is a favourite distraction location of my wife and I when it all gets to much.

Amsterdam gives you back so much, it’s free attitude to so many things, sex, drugs and social behaviour makes the place a melting pot. We go there when we need to recuperate from the stress of the world, sit in a café enjoy the tolerated not legalise offerings and chill. I know Amsterdam quite well. I have however never been there alone, always with my wife, so I have had someone to “control” me, someone who by their very presence stops me going off the rails, this would be different and I wondered where it would end.

I told my wife of the pending business trip, to which she said “I was a lucky bastard.” and she wished she was coming to. I smiled and tried to shrug it of by saying it would be dull and a business meeting is the same the world over, however in my mind I had other ideas, although no real plan, just an idea this might be an interesting trip.

My trip to Amsterdam was only for 1 night, I would arrive around lunch time and set up for the meeting the next day. This would take but a few hours, after this the rest of the day was mine, so long as I’m at the office by 9am the next morning to give the talk and in a fairly presentable state I could do what I pleased.

On arrival in Schiphol airport and with only hand luggage I was quickly able to catch the train to the city centre, from there I knew it was a short Metro ride to the office where I was setting up. I got there by 2 pm and had finished the set up by 3:30 pm. After a quick chat with the staff and avoiding the requests to go for a drink after work by saying I had an old friend to meet up with, I was out and in my hotel by 4 pm.

The day was now all mine. I showered, changed from the business suit I traveled in, into a more Amsterdam like attire, jeans and tee shirt and headed straight for my favourite coffee shop.

Amsterdam coffee shops come in two types those that sell coffee, chocolate and cakes and are called Brown cafes and those that sell coffee, chocolate, cakes and cannabis that are called Coffee shops, it was the later I was in. I know the owners from many of my past visits, the asked after my wife and said they looked forward to seeing her there soon. The owners are two Rastafarian Dutch guys very chilled and very pleasant. They didn’t ask me what I wanted as it was almost like going into a local bar at home, they just passed over the cup of coffee and the very large White Widow joint. I love this place.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop is very laid back, the walls are dark nicotine and dope stained brown and the music is a mixture of laid back jazz and reggae, the tables are set so that you can sit and watch the world go by. As I sat and drank the coffee and smoked the joint, time seemed to alter, it slows considerably and to a point where you have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there, occasionally in the half dream world I’m offered a refill of coffee and another joint but other than that I sat in my own world. I gazed out the window and watch people going about there business, sometimes I get caught up in events that unfold, minor things start to fascinate me, like, how someone rides their bike, how someone is walking, anything really. The real and the unreal blend in a nice way, I feel totally relaxed.

Eventually I feel enough of this, I pay the bill, a mere 20 Euros and I realised I have been sitting there for nearly 3 and a half hours, no one minds or thinks it odd. I say my goodbyes to the now very red eyed owners, who have been enjoying there own hospitality and stock, we chatted for a few minutes and they smile saying have a good night, I got this feeling they are aware that the night isn’t over for me yet.

The coffee shop is just outside the red light district, this is a small area of the city of Amsterdam yet the most visited, here all manner of sexual offerings are on offer and displayed openly. The girls sit in red florescent lit windows blatantly offering their services, it’s seedy and refreshingly open. Tourists go up and down the street looking, laughing and occasionally trying. Stag and Hen parties abound, the girls buying things from the sex shops and the guys, being egged on by their friends, disappear into the red lit rooms. The atmosphere is one of fun, the streets are by and large devoid of cars and are narrow and cobbled, it is a place to wander.

I’m still feeling the effects of the coffee shop as I wandered with the throng up and down the neon lit streets, I am now thinking of what I can do, do I want to try the delights Amsterdam has on offer, and, if I do what is it I seek? For the choice seems endless.

There are young blond women beckoning me, there are older, larger, black women, women in leather, I go past each one. As I walk I see in a lower level window a well build buxom woman, something about her looks different, she is of Asian origin, Dutch East Indies I guess, darked skinned, wearing a bikini top and shorts, showing off her ample breasts, but she has big shoulders and thick frame. She waves and I wave back. I go to the window and ask what I’m thinking

“Are you a Ladyboy?” not really knowing what else to call her and probably a stupid question but I wanted to be sure

There’s no need to be shy here, you can say what you want for nobody is going to look shocked. She confirms she is and asks if I would like to come in. I go.

Inside the room it’s dark, there’s a bed, a chair, a sink and a ultraviolet light which makes the patterns on the furniture glow. The red light from the window and the ultraviolet light give a warm relaxed feeling to the room. It smells a little of sweat and sex.

Sitting on the chair I’m asked what I want, now this has me, I’m not sure what I want. I’m offered a blow job or to cum between those soft breasts, the price for which would be 60 Euros.

“How much for everything” I ask, by which I mean and she knows I mean full sex.

“100 Euros” was the reply.

I hand over the 100 and she takes off the bikini top, her breast are plump round and full, they are obviously also from plastic surgery and fascinate me, I reach over and ask if I may touch them and as I’m paying she agrees.

They are the first augmented breast I have ever felt, slightly harder than real ones but only just, the nipples are large and dark and the skin soft.

She moves to undress me, she stands there with her breasts unfettered wearing only a pair of shorts, white ones that reflect the ultraviolet light and stand out as shining white against her dark skin. I help her undress me and I stand there naked before her. She informs me that everything has to be done with a condom, even oral sex and leans over to a bowl next to the bed that is full of them, takes one and opens it. My cock is hard, but I don’t want to use it right now, I want to see her naked to. I ask her if she would remove the shorts, she looks a little surprised.

“You do know what I have down there?” she asks as if my original question of her being a Ladyboy hadn’t happened.

“I know what I’d like to be there” I replied

She removes the shorts, producing a large dark uncut cock, not hard, she stands there hands on hips, looking like I should be alarmed, like I might snatch my clothes and run. The opposite is on my mind.

I reach over and touch her cock, it’s quite thick, I cup her in my hand and tell her this is what I want, I want to please her. A quizzical look comes on her face, I’m not sure many guys want to please the hooker, but for me sex isn’t about just getting off, I want and feel better if both parties are having a good time.

I tell her I want to suck it, again she looks surprised, but the your paying look is also there. She rolls a condom over her half hard cock and lies back on the bed.

I crawl up between her open legs and take the half hard condom covered cock and kiss it, then take it into my mouth, the rubber tastes odd but it still feels like a cock. It hardens as I suck and grows. As I suck on her I look up to see her lying back with her hands on her own breast playing with her nipples, it’s an amazing sight for me, like the best of both worlds.

I continue to suck for a while, I don’t want her to cum, just get good and hard for me. My own cock is twitching with every bob of my head, I can feel it pulsate. She start to sit up as if it’s her turn, but I roll over and now lay half sitting half laying on a cushion on the bed so that I’m in a semi reclining position. She straddles my legs and reaches for another condom, I can see her dark cock in it’s rubber sheath sticking out at me all the while. She reaches for my hard cock and rolls the condom over it, still straddling me I reach for her and pull her forward, I want to kiss her. Now, I’ve heard that hookers don’t kiss, well she did and seemed to enjoy it. She is kneeling forward now, her breast swinging, her mouth is on mine and I can cup her breasts in my hands. I’m very hard now.

My legs move up so they are around her waist, I feel as if I’m the woman, this is something new, I fell like I want to be made love to rather than do the making, I arch up my hips exposing my ass to her, she looked confused.

“Will you fuck me?” I say, not knowing where that came from in my mind and not knowing why I said it. However the feeling of wanting this part male, part female in me was immense.

I reach under my upturned hips and take hold of her cock, and to emphasis my intension, point it at my ass. I am screaming to be fucked in my head, I want it, I want it now, even though this was never the idea when I entered the room, the heady cocktail of this cocked woman had created this urge within me.

She reach over me, one hand on the bed, the other searching for something in the bowl where she kept the condoms, her armpit went across my face and the unmistakable smell of a man emanated from it. She returned to her half kneeling position with a tube of lube in her hand, I took the lube from her and proceeded to squeeze some in my hand with which I applied to her cock making it very slippery on the condom, I applied a good squeeze into my hand and put my hand between my legs that were still wrapped round her waist and massaged it in around my waiting ass hole.

Satisfied I’d lubricated enough I started to slide my body so that her cock was positioned at my entrance, I pushed myself on to her, she in turn pushed back, I could feel the cock at the door of my ass, the thick head trying to open me up, I wanted it in me.

I pushed harder, feeling my ass take the stretch and feeling the head of her cock go past the muscle that tried to stop her, and she was in me. The feeling of that cock in me I will never forget, it wasn’t so much the cock rather the wanting it so badly, I have never wanted anything so much and as it slid in and out I reveled in the joy it was bringing.

With my legs up around her waist and my hips lifted she moved into me with long slow thrusts, I could take her all the way in. I looked up at her, and at her breasts dangling before me, from this angle she was a woman but when I looked at her eyes she was definitely a guy fucking. She didn’t last long, a few minutes maybe and she came with a shudder into the condom that was deep in my ass. I could feel the huge contractions as she spurted into me.

We were both panting as she withdrew, my cock was like a rock and so hard it hurt when I contracted my stomach muscles to move and it twitched.

She smiled at me and bizarrely and politely thanked me, saying it had been a while since she had done that, this made me wonder what were her reasons for being a Ladyboy, was it the money, did she feel like she was a woman, by the way she fucked she was still a guy, I didn’t ask but now wished I had for I often wonder.

She repositioned herself on the bed turning away from me but still on all fours, she offered her own ass to me, as if to return the favour. I reach for the lube again and this time applied it to my cock and her ass, I knelt up behind her, doggy style and pushed my aching cock into her, it went in easily, she pushed back to receive my thrusts as I had done to her, I reach under her to cup her breasts as I lay over her broad back. I knew that I too would be quick, my cock had been at erupting point for a while and the warmth and exoticness of the situation was going to mean I would cum quickly. I moved my hands from her breast to her cock, now limp but still in the condom, she muttered an apology for it not being hard, which seemed unnecessary. I came with a huge spurt, deep within her ass, the relief was heady, I was seeing stars, maybe that was the cannabis from earlier but it felt wonderful.

We collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed and I cuddled her for a few moments.

The spell was broken, she was a working girl and it was time to get rid of this customer and get on to the next, we dressed and she escorted me to the door, there I turned, thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled back.

I left the room and walked out into the warm night air of Amsterdam, no one took a blind bit of notice, just another punter leaving a room. I walk round the cobbled narrow strips for a bit, not quite believing what had just happened. I found another coffee shop, not my usual one as I wanted to feel alone. I smoked the joint drank the coffee and went back to the hotel. The feeling in my head was strange, I had just dine something, for me way out there, and yet I had this feeling of where will it all end, how far down this path will I travel?

The next morning, slightly groggy from the drugs, I went and delivered the talk at the Amsterdam office, it was met with the usual mix of over enthusiasm and hidden skepticism that all corporate flavour of the month things are.

I returned to Schiphol, caught the flight back and arrived home.

My wife was out on a business trip of her own and I wondered if she was doing things when away as I was, I was never going to ask, part of me hoped she was and another hoped she wasn’t, as long as we never found out I reasoned what harm can it do, this delusion comforted me, but I also knew things were starting to get out of control and again I wondered just how far I would go with this.

July 2018
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