It Is A Mystery

She was constantly in my dreams, a fantasy of untold possibilities. I was
captivated the first time I saw her in the office. She wore a form-fitting
skirt and blouse accentuating every curve, without flaunting them. A rather
tall blonde, with shoulder length hair framing her beautiful, flawless face and
magnificent legs, she was definitely every man’s dream. I could see both men
and women stare at her beauty. From the first day on the job, there was an aura
of mystery surrounding her. I heard some talk around the water cooler. Where
did she come from? How old is she? Why is she so aloof around the guys—is she
a lesbian? It was obvious to every man in the office who tried to hook up she
wasn’t interested. Well, I’m very interested.

I made a concerted effort to come in contact with her every day. I wanted to
get to know this mysterious beauty. Over the course of several weeks, she
eventually warmed to me as we developed a good office friendship. I put out the
signals—I wanted to be more than friends—but so far the signals have been
ignored.

One day, she entered my office, closed the door, and started to cry. Her boss
had given her a crappy job review, and she was in need of a friendly shoulder to
cry on. When I came around the desk to give her a consoling hug, she stiffened
and looked pleadingly into my eyes, so I backed off. Was I sending the wrong
signal this time? The look in her troubled, teary eyes was not one of
rejection. It was as if she was saying ‘please understand me.’ What did I need
to understand, I wondered, had she been molested once and now feared physical
intimacy?

I told her I’d like to get to know her better. She nodded and told me she would
like to get to know me better too, but she “needed time.” I told her we would
take all the time she needs. She fabricated excuses every time I asked her out.
One time my facial expression must have mirrored my frustration; for she told
me that once I “knew” I would change my mind “like the others.” Knew what, I
think—is she an ax murderer or something? But, I gave her the time.

I was really falling for this woman. Not only was she beautiful, but sharply
intelligent with a fantastic sense of humor. Yet, we haven’t been on a date.
One day, in a fit of desperation, I went into her office, closed the door, and
raising my right hand, swore no matter what I found out about her, it wouldn’t
change how I feel about her. She wistfully smiles and says she will go out with
me.

I took her to the best, most romantic restaurant I knew. We ate, drank, and
laughed. When she reached across the table at one point to hold my hand, I was
in heaven. On her doorstep, I moved to kiss her goodnight. She froze for a
second, and then met my lips in a tentative first kiss, full of promises to
come. I wasn’t sure what the ‘big secret’ was, but with her lips on mine I knew
it would never matter.

We dated several more times over the next month or two, sharing our innermost
thoughts and dreams, but sharing nothing else beyond a goodnight kiss. One
Friday, I sent her a large bouquet of roses, but when I poked my head in her
office to soak up the thanks, I found her crying instead. Shit, what’s wrong
now, I wonder…bad news? Is it me?

I close the door to her office as she rises from her chair, comes to me and hugs
me. She tells me I’m the best man she’s ever met, but we have to end our
relationship. I tell her for the umpteenth time no matter what in her past
she’s ashamed of it won’t matter to me. She must have finally realized my
sincerity, for she nods and invites me to her apartment that evening for a
drink.

When she answers the door, I’m breathless from the sight of her. She’s wearing
a fantastic blue cocktail dress that hugs every curve, showing off her
magnificent cleavage in ways she wouldn’t dare back at the office. We had a few
drinks, sat on the sofa, and talked for hours. Every fiber of my manhood should
have wanted to jump her bones (oh yes I did!) but I enjoyed her company so much,
the thought of sex was being pushed to the back of my mind. A few more drinks
and that changed, when she moved closer and kissed me. This kiss was a
multitude of times more passionate than any so far. I swear we kissed for 10
minutes.

When I placed my hand on her smooth bare thigh (no nylons) and started moving it
up under her dress, she broke the kiss and whispered, “It’s time.”

Without another word, she rose from the sofa and moved to the center of the
room. Sensuously, with her back to me, she lifts the dress over her head and
drops it to the floor. My God, I think, her body is flawless, wearing only the
laciest of bras and the skimpiest of thongs, showing off the tightest, roundest
ass I’ve ever seen. Her back still to me, she reaches behind and unclips her
bra, dropping it to the floor as well. I can feel my cock bulging in my pants,
but I’m otherwise paralyzed by her striptease. When she turns to face me, I’m
hypnotized by her breasts—the most perfect in the world—heavy, but firm,
slightly pointed, with luscious pink areolas and hard pencil-eraser nipples.
When I take my eyes off her breasts and begin admiring the rest of her, my heart
stops beating and my breath is gone.

The circumcised head of an erect penis is poking out above the band of her
thong! Our eyes meet. She’s seen the look of confusion and repulsion on men’s
faces before, I realize. What’s written on MY face now that I know the secret?
Will I let this change how I feel about her—yes, it’s a ‘her’ I’ve been falling
in love with these past few months. I get off the sofa and walk to her. I wipe
away the tear that’s slowly falling from the corner of her eye, take her head in
both hands and kiss her as passionately as I can.

“Will you make love to me?” she asks.

She leads me to the bedroom then begins undressing me. When freed from my
briefs, my erection is full and aching. When she removes her thong, I’m amazed
at the sight. Everything about her pubic areas cries woman—smooth skin, trim,
and hairless—except for the hard, six-inch penis. She senses my hesitation—what
do I do?

She coaxes me to the bed and lies next to me in the opposite direction, and
begins to suck my cock. I’m now staring at the first cock that’s ever been in
my face. ‘When in Rome’…I think to myself, taking her cock in my mouth (I
never thought I’d ever be sucking a cock…never). I know what I like, so I use
all the same techniques on her. She must have been hornier than me, for in no
time she lets my cock pop out of her mouth, groans, and sends streams of her cum
into the back of my throat. Like a good boy, I swallow it all (what an amazing
sensation!).

Before she can return my cock to her mouth, I rise to my knees, look at her, and
ask “How?”

She reaches over to the nightstand to get a small tube of lubricant, and hands
it to me. She then spreads and lifts her legs so her knees are practically at
her shoulders, exposing her pink, puckered anal ring. I squirt a small amount
of the jelly on my hand and finger some into and around her anus. I squirt
another dollop and rub it on the shaft of my cock. She’s panting in
anticipation, gazing into my eyes, her cock hard again and dribbling pre-cum.
As I position myself, she wraps both ankles around my head, lifting her ass to
me. I penetrate her and she gasps. My initial strokes are slow and measured,
not wanting to hurt her. Soon my need takes over and I pound into her ass with
full thrusts of my cock. While I fuck her ass, I stroke her cock. Her eyes
roll back in ecstasy and she cums, spewing a couple of streams over her breasts.
The ejaculatory contractions in her groin cause her bowels to convulse, making
me cum like I’ve never done before. I feel 7 or 8 spasms as I shoot deep into
her rectum.

I spend the night in her bed. We held each other, enjoying the warmth of each
other’s body. When she rose from bed in the morning, I couldn’t help admiring
her physique once more. Even what is dangling between her legs couldn’t detract
from her perfect body. In fact, I thought, it makes it more beautiful. She
truly is flawless.

Over coffee on this unique Saturday morning, she relates her life story. When
she was born, her parents were told they had a boy. As the “boy” grew, her
parents began to suspect something was wrong. Their son looked and acted like a
girl. They had him tested and found out their son was just as much their
daughter. He/she was a form of hermaphrodite, as these folks were called back
then—mixed-up genes, part man and part woman. Except for the penis, however,
she was, and always felt like, a girl. She was enrolled in school as a girl
(her parents were very understanding, she tells me). Junior high and high
school days were a challenge; how do you hide a penis from the rest of the girls
in the shower after gym class? Even as she grew into a beautiful woman, her
teen years were haunted by rejection and ridicule. While a freshman and
sophomore in college she had a few liaisons with other women who were turned on
to the idea of sex with a man-woman, but these left her unfulfilled—she was a
woman, damn it, and 100% attracted to men—yet the men she let get close to her
all rejected her, or thought of her as a freak show. She had spoken with some
specialists about an operation, similar to one transsexuals have, to remove her
penis and open up a vagina, but she decided it ultimately was too expensive and
held too many medical risks and complications.

I will not reject her. To me, she is the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met.
She is intelligent, witty, warm and loving…and very beautiful! After that
auspicious night, we let our relationship grow slowly, not wanting to—I guess
the word is “jinx”—the chemistry between us. We dated a lot in the next few
months and spent as much time together as possible, but didn’t have sex very
often; perhaps this too was so we wouldn’t jinx our growing relationship. One
night in bed after stroking each other to climax, she showed me the small
opening at the base of her scrotum doctors told her was the vestiges of a
vaginal opening. Just this small moment of sharing an intimate detail of her
wondrous anatomy showed me she loved me more than any words could convey. I
propose to her the next day.

Our wedding day was marvelous. She wore the most beautiful wedding dress I’ve
ever seen, looking absolutely radiant in white. The only blemish on the day was
the way my sister was acting. She seemed sullen and hostile to both of us. It
wasn’t until later at the reception that sis let slip something about
“unnatural” and “tranny.” I got the picture. My sister must have seen my new
bride getting dressed and saw her anatomy, assuming incorrectly she was a
transsexual. I got sis aside and explained forcefully that my wife (I’m so
elated to say it!) was indeed a woman and has always been one, and no matter
what body parts she had or didn’t have, I loved her with all my heart. I don’t
think she truly understands. She will probably say all kinds of nasty things
about my new wife that’ll make family visits hell, but right now I don’t
care—I’m in love, this is my wedding day, and I won’t let anyone spoil it.

We will fly to Aruba tomorrow, but our wedding night will be spent in a
honeymoon suite at a local hotel. Why do you think I’m so excited about our
wedding night? I will lose my virginity tonight. My bride will enter me and
fill me with her juices for the first time. You see, even though I have been in
her ass, she has not been in mine. Tonight will be the night of my
“deflowering.”

When we arrive in our room, we slowly undress each other, while drawing water
for the large, heart-shaped, spa tub. We soak in the tub and soak up the feel
of each other’s hot flesh. By the time we get out of the tub, we are both as
horny as we’ve ever been with each other. Her cock is very stiff and leaking a
fair amount of pre-cum.

I’m still in awe of the sight of her—so beautiful, so endowed, and so unique. I
prepare myself for my bride. I use a finger to spread lubricant at my anus
while she looks on in lust. When I position myself on my knees on the bed,
lower my head to the pillow with my ass in the air before her, she can’t wait
and enters me and immediately begins thrusting into my virgin rectum. I have no
words to describe the feeling of having a cock in my ass for the first time. I
feel her feverishly pound into me, hitting my prostate on every thrust. The
assault on my sphincter and prostate has my cock as stiff as can be, but she
soon takes care of that, reaching around and grasping me and jerking me off.
Following a few grunts of “UH” and “OH” I feel her cock pulse in me as she
ejaculates. Soon afterwards I croon a few sounds of my own as I coat the sheets
with cum.

We will spend our Aruban honeymoon alternating between doing each other’s ass,
sucking each other’s cock, and strolling on the beach: the perfect beginning to
a perfect marriage to a perfect woman.


You must be logged in to post a comment.