Guy sighed heavily, his eyes scanning the bank of security monitors, each of which showed a different view of Femme Fatale. A month ago, he'd taken the job as a security guard for the woman's clothing store because he needed the money and because he supposed that watching the store - or, more specifically, the ladies' dressing rooms would provide him with the opportunity to ogle half-naked women. Unfortunately, for some reason, despite the store's stylish clothing, few women shopped at Femme Fatale. Guy's days were spent monitoring racks and shelves of skirts, blouses, panties, bras, shoes, bikinis, and other feminine attire, but in ogling very few women. Most of the ones who did enter one of the dressing rooms were unusually tall and, for the most part, rather ugly. They were also careful about undressing, so Guy caught precious few glimpses of topless tops or bottomless bottoms. The job, far from delivering the prurient excitement he'd hoped for, was boring in the extreme. Guy had decided that today would be his last. He needed a job, sure, but he didn't need this one. At the end of his shift, he'd inform Dell, the store's manager.
Having made up his mind to quit, Guy slumped in his seat. He had to watch the stupid store for only another hour; then, he was free.
Ten minutes later, he was almost asleep, when he caught sight of a fine-looking Female Dick entering one of the dressing rooms, a thong bikini on a clothes hanger in hand.
She was unusually tall, like most of Femme Fatale's patrons, but she definitely wasn't ugly. Wavy blonde tresses cascaded over her delicate shoulders, to the middle of her sculpted back, and she had the deepest blue eyes Guy had ever seen. Her full lips were as full and sensuous as her nose was petite. She had full, high, firm, round breasts, and he could see the nipples beneath the taut fabric of her tank top. Her pierced navel sported a small gold ring. She wore tight, low-riding jeans that dipped below her hips, showing her lower belly in front and the dimples in the small of her back behind. Just looking at this stunning babe made Guy's penis hard. He unzipped himself, taking his stiff, swollen penis in his fist, and began to masturbate as he watched the customer undress, totally unaware that she was being observed over a closed-circuit television system.
She pulled her tiny tank top off, over her head, revealing a white brassiere trimmed in lavender lace and pink ribbons. She hung the top on a hook on the back of the dressing room door. Guy's penis became harder.
Kicking off her high heels, she unzipped her jeans, pushing them down, over her hips and her creamy, smooth thighs, past her knees, and down her calves, stepping out of the low-riders and hanging them beneath the top, on the same dressing room hook. She wore matching white panties, adorned with the same lavender lace and pink ribbons with which the bra was decorated. Guy's penis thickened.
Her hands tugged the panties down her long, sleek legs, and she stepped out of them, too. She was now completely naked. Her back was toward Guy, so he couldn't see her genitals. He wondered whether she was blonde below, as she was above. Maybe she kept her Female Dick shaved, he thought, the better to show the small cleft of her sex. His balls ached.
The gorgeous blonde strapped on the bikini top. Guy watched her slender fingers fasten the garment behind her back. Now, only her lovely ass remained bare. He wished she'd turn, so he could see her breasts again and enjoy the sight of her Female Dick for the first time. Instead, she lifted a foot, stepping into the thong bottom. Then, she lifted her other leg, but lost her balance. She flung out her arms, managing to catch herself. However, in her struggle, she'd hopped a few steps, turning, so that she faced the camera, and Guy's eyes widened as, below the trim patch of blonde pubic hair, as downy as dandelion fuzz, he saw her tiny penis bob in front of the small, swaying bag of her scrotum. She wasn't a chick, Guy thought. She was a guy!
No, he corrected himself, she was a chick - a chick with a dick - the first transsexual Guy had ever seen, other than in a magazine or a video. A clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, oozed from the purple tip of his glans. Guy gripped his penis more tightly, and his fist began to pump up and down as he masturbated more vigorously. Since he'd first learned that such fabulous creatures as shemales existed, Guy had been obsessed with the androgynous creatures who were neither male nor female while being, at the same time, both. He'd longed to meet - or even see - one, but he'd had to content himself with photographs of them rather than with encountering a transsexual in the flesh - at least, he had until now.
His fist jerked up and down, pulling and pushing the taut flesh back and forth on the shaft of his stiff, hard penis as he admired the transsexual's full tits, round ass, and diminutive penis and balls. He imagined screwing her, fast and hard, in her magnificent derriere, sucking her soft, limp penis until it was a kind firm enough to spurt her salty white seed into his hungry mouth, and having her take his own throbbing erection into the warm-soft-wetness of her mouth. In a moment, he'd lost control. Thighs shuddering, hips bucking, and penis straining, he spurted jet after jet of his thick, white semen onto the monitor, covering the transsexual in the hot-pink thong with wads of his semen so that the fluid trickled over her tits, ass, cock, balls, and legs. Hastily, he stood, yanking his pants up and zipping himself. He hurried from the back room, into the store.
Ginger, the sales clerk, looked surprised to see him, but Guy hardly noticed. His attention was on the stunning transsexual who'd just purchased the hot-pink thong.
"This store is fantastic," she told Ginger, "and it has all the right sizes for taller Female Dicks like me."
"Femme Fatale caters to Female Dicks like you," Ginger said. "That's why we don't get many genetic Female Dicks as customers. Unfortunately, we don't get all that many transsexuals, either. It looks like we may have to close."
"Why is that?"
Ginger shrugged. "We're new. We're also off the beaten track. I mean, this isn't exactly L. A."
"No, but it's close." She held out her hand. "I'm Daphne," she introduced herself.
Ginger shook her hand. "Ginger."
"Femme Fatale is too good a store to go out of business - and it won't, not after I write an article about it in my magazine."
"You're a publisher?"
Daphne nodded, smiling. "Transsexual Express. Have you read it?"
"Are you kidding? I'm a subscriber!"
Daphne gave Ginger an appraising look. "You?"
Ginger grinned. "Yes, I'm a transsexual, too."
Guy's penis was rising again. The front of his pants was bulging. He couldn't believe his ears! Ginger was a transsexual, too! He'd worked at Femme Fatale for an entire month and had never guessed the tall, very pretty sales clerk was a shemale. He, who'd longed to meet a transsexual for years, had worked alongside one for the past four weeks and, today, he'd encountered a second, even lovelier one!
Daphne seemed to catch sight of Guy for the first time. She smiled at him, licking her lips. "Oooh! A handsome stud works here, too?"
Ginger introduced them.
"What are you two doing after work?" Daphne asked.
"Nothing that can't be put off," Ginger said.
"The same," Guy blurted.
"Why don't you stop by my place?" She wrote the address on the back of a Transsexual Express business card, handing it to Ginger. "We can work on the article about Femme Fatale - among other things."
"It's a date," Ginger agreed.
"Definitely," Guy seconded.
Daphne glanced down, at the erection that bulged in the front of Guy's pants. "Bring that with you," she suggested.
Daphne lived in an exclusive penthouse apartment that overlooked San Diego Bay. Everything was white - the walls; the ceilings; the wall-to-wall carpet that covered the floors in every room, except the two bathrooms, which were laid with white tile; the couches, chairs, and tables; the bedsteads and dressers; even the lamps and shades.
"Wow," Guy said.
"It looks like heaven," Ginger remarked.
Guy studied the framed covers of Transsexual Express that decorated one of the walls. stunning shemales smiled at him among titles that referred to the social, political, and sexual topics discussed within each issue. "Very impressive," he said.
"Thanks. Can I get you anything? A drink? Some refreshments? A blowjob?"
Ginger blushed. "I could use a small lip service."
Daphne smiled. "Why don't we take our clothes off and get comfortable."
Within minutes, they were all naked. Guy was erect. The Female Dicks, their own penises small, soft, and limp, grinned at his stiff, upright cock. "I'm glad to see you brought that with you, as I asked," Daphne quipped.
She led her guests into her boudoir, which was occupied by the biggest bed that Guy and Ginger had ever seen. It made a king-size look small by comparison. "That's some bed!" Guy declared.
"I had it custom made," Daphne confided. She climbed onto the gargantuan piece of furniture. "Won't you join me?" she invited, patting the mattress.
Ginger and Guy climbed aboard.
Ginger lay on her back. Daphne knelt between her parted knees, taking Ginger's small, soft penis into her mouth. Guy knelt behind Daphne, guiding his thick, hard penis into the cleavage between her round, smooth buttocks. As Daphne nursed Ginger's limp penis to erection, Guy slid his prick through the tight circle of Daphne's anus, shoving his hips forward steadily until his thick manhood filled her rectum.
As Ginger's prick thickened, lengthened, and swelled, Daphne began to bob her head up and down, in a slow, steady rhythm, pumping her rounded full lips back and forth upon Ginger's saliva-glistening shaft. Ginger writhed on the bed, moaning with pleasure.
While Daphne sucked Ginger's cock, Guy began screwing Daphne's impaled ass with his own prick, driving the thick organ all the way into her bottom before withdrawing it until only the glans remained within the sphincter. He paused to enjoy the sensations that her frantically fluttering asshole created around the shaft of his penis before plunging his member back through the flexing ring of muscle, deep into her bowels. With each lunge, he drove his penis into her with increased force until he was pounding her ass hard, his belly thumping against the upper curves of her buttocks and his balls slapping against the lower cheeks, her own balls, and her perineum. Daphne, like Ginger, began to moan. Their soft grunts and groans inflamed Guy's passion, and he forced his penis into Daphne's ass as hard and fast as he could, assaulting her as if his erect penis were a battering ram by which he meant to rend her asunder.
Now that Ginger's small penis had stiffened and swelled to the point that it stood erect, Daphne licked and kissed and sucked on the diminutive member, working hard to keep the transsexual's manhood upright. Guy could hear occasional slurping sounds, which excited him and made him drive his prick still harder and faster than before, pounding his groin furiously against Daphne's skewered buttocks. He watched the sleek, round mounds flatten before each thrust and spring back as he momentarily retreated.
Their moans quickened in pace, even as they deepened in timbre, and Guy added his own grunts and sighs to the animalistic noises as he banged away at Daphne's ass. Finally, Ginger reached the point of no return, and a few feeble spurts of her opalescent semen oozed more than gushed from her cock. Daphne licked up every drop, enjoying the salty treat. Guy, likewise, attained orgasm. Waves of pleasure flooded his loins, and his penis strained inside Daphne's ass. Abruptly, his thick, warm seed flooded from his convulsing penis, filling Daphne's rectum. They collapsed upon the huge bed, panting, awash in their own and each other's sweat, Daphne's full lips smeared with Ginger's semen, and her ass streaked with cream from Guy's balls.
After they'd rested, Daphne asked, "Who wants to do what to whom?" and they were soon sucking and screwing again, activities that they repeated throughout the evening and promised to repeat on a regular and continuous basis, as often as possible.
A month later, in his office at Femme Fatale, Guy, eyeing the monitor by which he maintained secret surveillance of the women's dressing room, watched one after another fabulously stunning transsexual undress as she tried on an evening gown, pantsuit, dress, or other stylish garment. He grinned. It looked as though he wouldn't be giving his notice after all. Being a security guard for Femme Fatale had suddenly become a whole lot more exciting than it had been for the past month, now that Daphne's article had appeared in Transsexual Express and Femme Fatale was crowded wall-to-wall with stunning shemales wanting to try on bras and panties, skirts and blouses, and jeans and bikinis. He watched the shemale he'd spied on in the dressing room walk out of the store, her tight ass swaying provocatively in her taut low-riders. He recalled the sight of her delightful derriere in the orange pink thong bottom, with the single, thin strap running upward, through her cleavage, to unite with the band around her waist, and his balls ached worse. His jutting penis had made the front of his pants a tent. He couldn't wait to see Daphne naked again, especially since the stunning shemale was hot to suck and fuck.
Ginger smiled at his erection. "I have a break coming," she told him, "and I like cream in my coffee. Interested?"
"Lead the way," he said, grinning. Yes, sir, Guy told himself as he watched Ginger's ass swivel in her tight skirt, he was going to enjoy working here. He might not get a promotion, but he was certain to get a raise.
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