Date: Fri, 30 Oct 2009 09:06:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: sjtw69 <sjtw69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Asako

Dedication: This story is dedicated to my very dear friend – she knows
who she is. Thanks for letting me write this story.

Disclaimer: My goal in writing this story was to contrast decisions and
lifestyle choices, not to make value judgments against or to disparage
anyone working in the sex industry. In fact, as I wrote it, it occurred to
me that writing erotic fiction and publishing it in a public place might
technically make me a sex industry worker, too, except I don't get paid for
it. Other than "intangible benefits", of course.

Gotta love those intangible benefits.

This story is fictional, so any resemblance to any persons, in real life or
elsewhere, is probably intentional on my part and the result of way too
much imagination on your part. But at least I changed the names and
embellished a little just to make it harder to recognize anyone.


Asako by Stephanie Silver


I heaved a heavy sigh as I slid beneath the sheets of our king-sized bed
and snuggled up next to Dennis. It was two o'clock in the morning.

"How'd it go with Asako?" he asked.

I kissed him softy on the lips, not surprised to find him awake. My hand
brushed across his dick, and lingered there, hoping to feel it respond. It
did. I sighed again, "Dennis, my kid-sister's gonna be a whore."

* * * * *

Asako Harris is my kid-sister. Half-sister, actually. We're separated in
age by about fourteen years, I guess. So in some ways, I was more like a
mother to her. Not that our mom wasn't there. Not at all. Mom was always
there when we needed her. But, I guess having a fourteen-year-old around
means you have a built-in babysitter, which allowed Mom to work out of the
house and bring in some needed extra money.

I won't even bother to go into the subject of our dads. Dads!? When did we
ever see them? Asako's dad, Slater, was in a motorcycle gang. He had
tattoos all over his chest and all the way down his right arm. He wore
nothing but dirty blue jeans, a leather vest, and whatever t-shirt he
happened to find in his closet that morning. Most of the t-shirts were
x-rated, with pictures of nearly naked women on the back of flaming
motorcycles with guys that looked just like him.

My dad, Bill Clarington, was a very respectable banking manager who wore
ties and clean-pressed suits to work each morning, screwed the tellers at
lunch, and then embezzled funds in the afternoon. He's in jail now, without
any of those pretty young girls he was so fond of screwing on his lunch
break, the victim of less-than-stellar embezzling practices. He got caught,
in other words.

And somewhere on the way I got messed up too. I guess. I mean, some people
would call me messed up. I'm happy with the way I turned out. I'm
transgendered. Half-male, half-female. And don't tell straight people this,
but I wouldn't want to be anything else. The best of both worlds.

Although sometimes I think it's more like the best of neither world.

Asako's dad had a thing for Japanese. Japanese food. Japanese
culture. Japanese motorcycles. I think he's the only biker I know who
didn't ride a Harley. So when Asako was born, Slater insisted on giving her
a Japanese name. Even though neither he nor my mom are Japanese.

That left me taking care of Asako. I don't know. Maybe that contributed to
my gender confusion. It was kind of like playing house, only I got to
pretend I was the mom. Or maybe gender confusion was just something that
was bound to happen one way or the other. I tell people, when they ask me
why I want to dress and act like a girl, I didn't choose it; it chose me.

Asako was the girlhood I never had. By taking care of her, I got to
experience all the things I missed by being a boy. I got to play with
dolls. I didn't wear her clothes, and, once she was old enough, I didn't
see her when she changed clothes. But I did the laundry, and occasionally
picked out things for her to wear for the day, so I was always familiar
with what she was wearing. I saw my little sister progress from diapers to
cartoon undies to training bras to sexy lingerie. Those experiences only
fueled my interest in dressing that way myself.

Asako was a year away from being a teenager when I finally worked up the
nerve to tell Mom that I wanted to start living full-time as a
woman. Surprisingly, Mom wasn't that surprised. Actually, I think she was
somewhat relieved that it was finally out in the open. When I told her I
wanted to save up my money for SRS, she supported my decision without
hesitation.

Naturally, coming out the way I did included telling my kid-sister. She
accepted it the same way, "Now I'll have a big sister," she said with a
grin.

By the time Asako was sixteen, we were going on shopping trips together:
swooning over shoes, sorting through five-for-ten panties, and trying on
outfits in the dressing room and then getting one another's opinion. We
became best friends. Well, as close as two sisters can be when one's
sixteen and the other is dreading the arrival of her thirtieth birthday.

Our new-found closeness also included boy talk. Since I continued to live
close to Mom and Asako, it was easy for her to stop off at my place on her
way home from school for a talk. Mom had a social life of her own, so I
often found myself back in the role of taking care of my kid-sister, making
her dinner or picking her up after field hockey practice or whatever else
needed to be done. It was more than once that I would call Mom at some
point and let her know that Asako was sleeping over.

Weekends were when that happened the most. With neither of us needing to
get up early the next day, some of our talks lasted until well past
midnight.


We even double-dated a couple times. I still remember the time we went
skating. As a trans-female, it's tricky to know when to tell someone your
full history. Telling them too soon means telling a lot of people who
really don't need to know; waiting too long risks offending them by not
being completely "truthful". The result for me was a lot of "forgetful"
dates: dates where I realized about half-way through the date that there
was no attraction and so no reason I'd ever consider telling them my
history.

This particular double-date was one of those "forgetful" ones. Whenever we
talk about it, we both can recall the tiniest details, from what the
weather was like, to how the popcorn smelled on the boardwalk where we were
skating, to what movie was playing at the theater we passed by. But neither
of us can remember the name of the guy I was dating. We just call him The
Guy We Don't Remember. We do remember that he got blisters on his feet from
his rented skates, and he looked so funny sitting there on that park bench,
his pant legs rolled up, rubbing his feet and talking on his cell phone.

"Probably calling for a taxi," I giggled to Asako, who laughed louder than
was appropriate. It turned out to be one of those bonding moments, when we
both suddenly realized that guys might come and go in our lives, but our
love for one another would last forever.


And then there was Craig! Craig was Asako's first real boyfriend. He was
also the first guy to break her heart. He was also a jerk.

Craig, Craig Hatch, was just weird. I never knew what exactly attracted
Asako to him. It was obvious what he saw in my baby sister. And every time
I saw that particular look in his eye, my old male characteristics would
come back and make me just want to kick him in the nuts. Or something. I'm
sure a dad could explain it better than me, but I know it had something to
do with that instinct fathers have to protect their little girls
from... Well, from guys like Craig.

He was a travel writer, which meant he actually had more in common with me
than he did with my sister. One day, when something happened that Asako
couldn't make their date at the last minute, I ended up having a long talk
with him about our common interest: writing. I'd never told Craig that I
was transgendered and didn't plan on telling him - to me he wasn't on the
short list, and my intuition said he never would be - and I knew Asako
wouldn't tell anyone without checking with me first. So when the
conversation got around to what genre of writing I did, I settled for a
partial truth: erotic fiction. I didn't see a need to tell him I
specialized in transgendered erotic fiction.

The conversation moved to the importance of having a good beginning to a
story if you wanted to keep a reader's interest, and I shared with him the
beginning from one of my stories that I thought had a good beginning. It
went: "Three years ago I married my best friend. Often, a statement like
that is the beginning of a wonderful love story. In this case, it's the
beginning of a very strange one."

Craig was one of those know-it-alls. Or at least he thought he knew it
all. The trouble with most know-it-alls is they usually don't know it all,
and are usually clueless what things it is they don't know. He wasn't the
least bit shy about sharing his opinion and giving the impression that only
a fool could possibly disagree with him. Which, I suppose, was the biggest
reason I had for disliking him: I almost always disagreed with him.

But I kept quiet and let him talk. It's not in my nature to argue with
someone over something as meaningless as a difference of opinion. And, no
matter how I felt about him, he was still Asako's boyfriend, and that meant
I had to be nice to him.

One day, a few weeks after our talk on writing, he asked me how that story
was going that I told him about, and if I'd ever managed to add anything to
the beginning I'd shared. I can only say that I was amused, because it
showed how little he actually paid attention. "I finished that story almost
two years ago," I told him. "I was just telling you how it started."

Craig and Asako stopped dating not long after that. I wasn't surprised. I
wasn't surprised when he did it in the most classless and insensitive way
possible: he just quit calling her. One day everything was fine; the next
day it was all over. Only Asako didn't know that. Each day, when she talked
to me and told me that he still hadn't called her, I remembered the way I'd
seen him looking at me that last time, with the same leer he normally
reserved for Asako or some other gal when he thought no one was
watching. And despite all his perceived intuition and self-proclaimed
ability to "read" people, I knew he still had no idea I was
transgendered. Frankly I felt she was better off without him. But I didn't
say that to her, and never would. I was nothing but supportive.

Losing Craig gave Asako some emotional issues of her own. I don't
know. Probably they were always there, and losing Craig simply brought them
to the surface. One day she confessed to me that she was bisexual. "Oh
really?" I asked, "How do you know?"

It was a simple enough question. Her answer should have been something
like, "Because I'm attracted to girls as much as I'm attracted to guys."
But I had to ask because, unless she'd completely avoided the subject with
me somehow, I hadn't gotten a single clue that she had any interest in
girls sexually.

Of course my little sister was just trying to find herself. I suspect that
being bisexual was just a way for her to somehow punish Craig. Only Craig,
by that time, didn't care. With nothing really coming of her bisexuality,
she eventually moved on to something else.

One warm summer day as we sat watching the sky darken from an approaching
storm, Asako turned to me and said, "Suzi, I think I'm trans, too."

I looked at her skeptically. "What?"

"I want to be a boy," she said.

"A what!? I've spent my whole life trying NOT to be one of those disgusting
creatures, and now you're here in my house telling me you want to give up
your wonderful, sexy female body to be the very thing I couldn't stand
being!?"

No, I didn't say that. I only thought it. It wouldn't have been
supportive. And just then, Asako needed my support and understanding more
than she needed a lecture. "How can I help?" I asked.

Asako made a cute boy. We cut her hair short and gave her a unisex
style. We went shopping for some boy clothes for her. We found a few of my
old boy things at Mom's house and gave her those. I thought of all the
things I'd done over the years to make myself more feminine, and tried to
figure out how to do the opposite. We wrapped her 34C breasts tightly with
a surgical bandage to keep them from showing. I had her wear loose-fitting
clothes. We took off all her makeup.

It didn't work. Asako is a naturally pretty girl. She ended up looking like
a girl in boy clothes. Her tightly bound breasts looked as if they were
just straining to get free. Her eyes, her eyelashes, her cheeks, her
delicate fingers. There just wasn't anything manly looking about her. If
anything, she looked even sexier as a boy than she did as a girl. As if
trying to cover it all up simply emphasized the very things she was trying
to hide. But I never told her that. Any of it.

Mercifully, that phase lasted only a few months, and one day she showed up
at my apartment wearing a short skirt and low-cut top. I noticed the
change, but didn't say anything. A few days later she added nail polish and
makeup. And by the time the weather turned cold, there was no trace of that
boy she claimed to have inside her.

Somewhere in all of Asako's confusion I met Dennis. All I can say is it
was... not forgetful. No, I won't go so far as to say it was love at first
sight. It took three or four sightings, at least.

I think the magical moment for me came one day when I saw him talking to
another girl. I'd been helping Melanie Fox fill out a job application for
the place I was working at, and was in a room just off the front lobby when
I heard Melanie say, "Oh Dennis, I was just about to call you and see where
you were. We need to be at that party in less than an hour."

It was the name Dennis that got my attention, since we had been on a few
dates by then, so I peeked out, and there he was. He hadn't noticed me, and
I decided not to say anything as I watched him with Melanie. She wrapped
her arm around his elbow and pulled him close as they promenaded to the
parking lot. I couldn't decide if he looked uncomfortable with her or not,
although when she stopped to light up a cigarette, I was sure I detected a
distinct frown.

Why did I care? Why did my heart skip a beat when I heard his name? Why did
I secretly hope Melanie would fall into a manhole before they got to his
car?

Two days later, when he hadn't called me, I decided to call him, using a
totally unrelated issue as an excuse for calling. That business took only a
few minutes, and I casually changed my tone to a friendly chat. "I saw you
at my office the other day," I said.

"You did?"

"Yeah, you were there to pick up Melanie."

"Oh, her." His tone was non-committal and even.

I decided to act, for the moment, as if she was his girlfriend and that I
didn't mind. "She's very pretty," I said. Which was true.

"She smokes too much," he said. "I hate smoking."

"Did you let her smoke in your car?" It was a trick question. I knew she
couldn't have possibly finished her cigarette before they'd gotten to his
car.

"It was her car," he said. "She just asked me to drive. Mine's in the shop
for a few days."

And suddenly I knew I wanted him. Except I still hadn't told him my
history. We made a date for that weekend, and on a balcony overlooking a
bend in the river just after sunset I took a deep breath and told him my
secret.

"I don't care," he said at length. "I still want to be with you."

And we've been together ever since. I slowly introduced him to the TG
world, and learned that he's the most tolerant, accepting and caring man
that I could ever hope to meet. He accepted all of my TG friends without
hesitation. And, well, the sex is incredible.

Meanwhile, Asako was still going through emotional issues. After deciding
to go back to being female, she suddenly became very clingy. At a time when
I kind of needed some space to work on my relationship with Dennis. That
clinginess was something new, something I'd never seen in her before. And
it was hard for me to deal with. In hindsight, I realize that Craig had
hurt her more deeply than I imagined. My normally self-confident sister had
suddenly grown indecisive and needy.

Asako started asking to borrow some of my favorite outfits, and even buying
things that were exactly like things I had in my closet. As any girl can
tell you, wearing the same outfit as another girl anywhere makes us
uncomfortable, and Asako was stretching my patience with her insistence on
looking just like me. In another situation I might have said something, or
simply refused to cooperate, but I sensed that Asako was going through some
difficult times, and the best thing I could do was agree.

Besides, I was finding myself getting very comfortable with Dennis. If
being my little sister's twin was all it took to make her happy, it didn't
matter to me. The three of us started going clubbing and stuff together,
and I would spend the evening dancing with Dennis while Asako made her own
friends. I found it really didn't matter that we were wearing the same
outfit.

That changed one day when we decided to go to a costume event at one of my
favorite TG clubs, Le Parc. The theme was Victorian and Steampunk. Neither
of us knew what steampunk meant, so we decided to go shopping for something
Victorian. That wasn't much better, but at least we had some idea what we
were looking for.

When I found the perfect dress at Freed's Formalwear, I knew Asako would
want the same thing. It was a bit pricey and beyond her budget, but I knew
it meant a lot to her, so I offered to buy it for her. "Just pay me back
when you can," I said, knowing I'd never see the money. What did I care
about money? This was my baby sister's feelings we were talking
about. Money didn't matter.

The dress was black lace, with an open-front skirt revealing a shorter
skirt underneath. The lace bodice was semi-transparent below an opaque bra,
with empress sleeves and gloves to match. With black lace-up boots, it was
guaranteed to turn more than a few heads.

On the day of the party we decided to go skating together and then go back
to my place and change into our new gowns. Skating had become one of our
favorite activities since we discovered a nice trail near the river where
we could skate and talk and enjoy each other's company. The fact that it
did so much to keep our bums looking tight, firm and sexy only added to our
enjoyment. We'd even joke sometimes about how sexy we were getting, and how
the boys wouldn't be able to keep their hands off of us.

When we got back to my apartment, Asako started changing while I took a
semi-urgent phone call from my office. When I finally got off the phone,
Asako was already dressed. She walked out and let me see how she looked by
doing a slow twirl.

I was stunned. My baby sister looked absolutely gorgeous! The black lace
against her black hair was a perfect match, drawing attention to her dark
eyes and slender figure. "Hold still. I have to get a picture," I insisted.

As I snapped a picture of my very beautiful sister, I suddenly realized one
thing. I couldn't wear that same outfit. Not for my usual selfish reasons
of wanting to be unique, but for just the opposite reason: I didn't want to
detract from her. To this day I've never been able to wear that gown. It
hangs in my closet, unused and unworn. It's my dress, but it belongs to
Asako.

Fortunately, because we didn't have time to go shopping again, I had
managed to collect a small assortment of gowns, so I quickly sorted through
those for an alternative. Shopping for clothes is a girl's guilty pleasure,
and I enjoyed it as much as any other girl. Maybe more. I had a dark blue
taffeta gown with a huge ruffle skirt and a strapless top that I realized
would just match the summer hat I had bought only a few days earlier. I
bought the hat because I liked it without really thinking what I'd ever be
able to wear it with. Buy first, think later, right? The look was probably
more Southern Belle than Victorian, but it would do in a pinch.

Okay, I have to confess that I look better in blue than I do in black
anyway. With my blonde hair and light skin, black tends to make me look
washed out while blue does just the opposite. But it's more fun to think I
had noble, sisterly reasons for giving up the black gown.

Asako won the prize that night for best Victorian outfit – a $500 gift
certificate at the mall. She made a couple of new friends, and spent the
night dancing with at least one of them. I noticed it as we were leaving
and more so over the next few weeks: Asako changed that night. She regained
her old self-confidence and became independent again. It was the last time
we talked about wearing the same outfit.

* * * * *

As I began stroking Dennis's erection, he replied, "Nothing wrong with
being a whore."

I was quiet for a moment, not sure if I disagreed with him or not. I was
pretty sure I was a slut. My girlfriends from the club and I practically
reveled in our strong sexual urges. Bawdy jokes there were perfectly normal
and almost expected. Calling each other and ourselves sluts and whores was
a form of affection. And there was no question the stories I wrote and
published on-line were intended to arouse and titillate. Were the things I
did that much different from what she was doing, just because I didn't make
any money doing it?

Dennis's pole swelled beneath my touch to its full length, reminding me of
the pole Asako had spent most of the night wrapping her legs around as she
danced and climbed and slid back down again. I slid my hand up and down,
mimicking the movements I'd watched her performing earlier. "You don't
think it's wrong to charge people for it?"

Dennis sighed, which could have indicated either his lack of interest in a
philosophical discussion at two in the morning, or enjoyment at what I was
doing to his cock. I glanced at his face, but with his eyes closed it was
still hard to tell. "Do you want me to suck you?" I asked.

"Yes."

It wasn't really a question. I knew he always wanted that. And I liked
doing it. Asking was nothing more than a way of telling him. I opened my
mouth and wrapped it around his cock. Dennis rewarded me with another
sigh. "That feels good, baby," he said.

I looked up at him without taking my mouth off of his cock. His eyes were
open now and he was watching me. I made sure he was able to get a good view
of his cock in my mouth as I thought about the guys who had been watching
my sister dance. Was it the same look? A look of silent appreciation?

"Take off your top," he said after a minute.

I obeyed by climbing on top of him and lowering the upper portion of my
smooth cotton chemise, slipping my arms through the straps and letting the
fabric bunch around my waist. I rocked softly backward and forward, feeling
his erection beneath me as I waited for Dennis to take it all in with his
eyes.

"I love seeing your tits," he said as he reached up to begin fondling them.

"I like showing them to you," I admitted, savoring the delicious feel of a
man's eyes on my breasts. I wondered if Asako got that same feeling
whenever she took her top off in front of a pair of appreciative eyes. Or
pairs. How could she not? It had to be exciting for her.

I leaned forward to find the radio next to the bed and turned it on so I
could dance. The movement brought my slowly hardening nipples near Dennis's
hungry mouth, and his response was exactly what you'd expect. I
gasped. Having my nipples sucked has always been the easiest way for me to
orgasm as a woman. "Ooo yeah, make me cum," I urged.

Asako's nipples had gotten hard more than a few times, I recalled. Was
there any way to fake that? None that I knew of. Cold water, of course,
but, the Climax Club, where Asako worked, had been warm. Hot even. Of
course I'd been wearing clothes the whole time. Maybe it was different if
you spent the night naked or nearly naked as Asako had done. Somehow I
didn't think so.

Dennis's hands were snaking their way up each of my thighs, pushing my
skirt higher as he exposed my black cotton panties trimmed with white
lace. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensations.

Asako had started off each set with a short skirt, her hands eventually
finding their way beneath it to caress her bare flesh. It was extremely
erotic to watch, even for me. I could only imagine how much the guys had
enjoyed it. I'd glanced around at them a few times. Perverts. They all
wanted just one thing, to see my baby sister take her clothes off.

Just like the pervert beneath me at that moment. The one whose hard dick
was pressing up against my crotch. The one I was in love with. The one I
wanted to give myself to before either of us went to sleep. I opened my
eyes and looked at him, half expecting to see one of the faces from the
crowd at Climax staring back at me. I saw Dennis. I was putting on my own
private strip show for him.

When he tried to pull my panties off, I stopped him. "Pay me a dollar
first. And put it in my panties." I had to know how it felt.

Dennis chuckled, thinking I was kidding. "You're serious?" he asked when he
saw I wasn't laughing.

I pushed my skirt back down, covering myself and then began covering my
breasts. I wanted sex, but I wanted respect more. If Dennis wasn't going to
do what I asked, I wasn't going to let him continue. At least in theory. If
he hadn't scrambled off the bed to find his wallet, I might have changed my
mind.

His actions reminded me of the guys I'd watched scrambling for their
wallets when Asako had stripped to nothing more than a g-string. I
remembered the words her manager had told her earlier, "If they don't pay,
you don't play. Got it?"

At the time his words had chilled me. They seemed so heartless. So
mercenary. So devoid of intimacy. In hindsight, I think it just brought
home to me the personal nature of what was going on. Asako was making her
start as a stripper in the sex industry. Whatever her feelings, or mine,
about sex, this wasn't about sex. It was about money. It was business. "If
they don't pay, you don't play."

"Shit!" Dennis growled, "All I got are twenties."

"Watch your language," I reminded. "And twenties will be fine. I was
expecting hundreds."

My words surprised me. I said it wanting to make the point that I should be
worth a lot to him. What surprised me was how little difference there was,
really, between what I expected of him and what Asako expected of her
customers. In fact, I seemed to expect more from Dennis than she did from
them. Did that make me a whore?

I hardly knew what to think. Dennis came back with two twenty-dollar
bills. I got on top of him again, my breasts exposed, and rubbed my
panty-clad crotch on his cock, which had grown soft again. When I felt him
starting to respond once more, I pulled the chemise all the way up over my
shoulders so that I was wearing only panties.

Asako had needed to dance close to each guy with a folded-up dollar bill in
his hand, suggestively wiggling and swaying her shapely ass, enticing them
to put the money inside her g-string. I realized I needed to give Dennis a
similar hint. I tucked my fingers inside the waistband of my panties and
pulled it out slightly, showing him where I wanted the money.

He hesitated. He really did. I had to smile. It was so cute. I had no
intentions of keeping his money. I just wanted his commitment. But he
didn't know that. Finally, after I guess deciding I was going to be an
expensive lay that night, he tucked the first bill into the left side of my
panties. The second bill, on the right side, he gave up without much fight.

And then I kissed him. As our lips parted, I whispered, "Now take them back
out."

He took the money back, but only after reaching inside my panties to play
with my pussy first. A moment later he rolled me onto my front and helped
me take my panties off. The two twenty-dollar bills lay forgotten as our
passion mounted.

I love how Dennis's cock feels when he enters me. It's the perfect
size. "Smooth as butter" is the only way I can describe it. This time I lay
flat on my tummy as he mounted me from behind, keeping my legs close
together as he got on top. It's my favorite position, but one I can only do
with him without working up to it first. I moaned as I felt his cock go up
inside me. That has to be the most delicious feeling there is.

Dennis began thrusting, taking several minutes to reach his climax. As he
did, he pushed forward, his cheek next to my ear. "I'm cumming, baby, here
it cums."

And it did. I felt his cock twitch inside me. I felt complete. I felt
satisfied. I had everything I wanted.

* * * * *

"Keep it," he said, when I handed Dennis back his money the next
morning. "You deserve it."

"I can't," I said. I didn't add the part about taking money for sex making
me feel like a whore.

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes burning a hole in my soul. I think,
in that moment, he understood. I'm not sure I did. "It's not for the sex,"
he said finally. "It's just `cause I like you."

"Oh. Okay, that's different," I said, and took the money.