Date: Sun, 13 Oct 2013 14:49:33 -0400
From: sissi lesli <tvlesli@gmail.com>
Subject: Young Times Part V

Young Times Pt V


Movement at the end of the hall jarred me from my trance and brought me
back to the future.  Someone had come into the arcade and was making the
circuitous route toward my little corner.  I catch sight of him as he
rounds the corner coming straight at me.  I recognize the face and estimate
I've been with him a half dozen times maybe.  I remember him as an OK guy
with a pleasant personality and what I suspected to be a slight bisex
streak.  My kind of guy, in other words.

He goes into a booth three up from where I'm standing, giving me the eye
before he closes the door.  So I ease up the aisle until I'm directly in
front of it and begin the waiting game.  Some times it's like this, a game,
and I don't know why men play it out like this unless they need video time
to get it up.  Whatever.  I light a cigarette and take a deep drag, holding
the smoke in my lungs for the longest time, and when I exhale, the door
cracks open just enough for me to see inside.  And what I see makes me
thirsty and hot, he's sitting on the bench, facing forward with his cock in
his hand, already glistening from the attention.  I move to the door,
dropping my cigarette on the floor and crushing it out under my sandal as I
push lightly on the door and it swings open.

I quickly slip into the booth, my eyes glued to that delightful dick in his
hand.

`Mind if I watch with you?' I ask.  It's the epitome of rhetorical
questions.  I know very well how this ABS business works, I've been a
regular in the booths since they opened the first one twenty odd years ago,
and probably will be til the day I die.  Nowhere else have I found such a
steady supply of horny men.  It was almost too easy, but I'll take easy
every time.

`Not unless you've got eyes in the back of your head' he joked.

`Not to worry baby, I'll devote all my attention to what goes in my mouth',
I promise, and with that I drop to my knees and grasp his cock in my left
hand, replacing his, and slowly jacking him from base to tip.  He hardens
and lengthens in my hand, and without wasting another second, I drop my
head as my mouth comes open and engulfs the head.  I pause there as I take
in both the smell and the taste.  All man.

`Ahhhh...baby, that's hot...', he exclaims as I take more of him inside my
mouth.  He has at least 7 inches and in no time I have the head past my gag
reflex and into my throat.  I back off an inch or two and take it all down
again, holding tight to the base of the shaft so that I still have an inch
or two to play with.  And play I do, tightening my throat around the head
to massage it as I use my tongue to massage the bottom of the shaft.

I am good at this.  In fact I am an excellent cock sucker, and I enjoy
using my talents to make men feel good.  And they feed my ego by
complimenting me on my skills, so I do everything I can to earn those
compliments.  That's one thing I had come to realize 30 years ago – I
came to treasure those compliments because they reinforced not only my ego
but also my sense of worth.

But it's not about the compliments this morning.  I had received all the
compliments I needed last night – `great looking bitch, nice ass, super
cocksucker, fantastic fuck' – and I had heard that a lot.  No, this
morning is about physical satisfaction, I need to get off, and if I have to
suck a few dicks in the process, well, I'm more than OK with that.

`Oohhhhh God that's so fucking hot..'  my companion whispers.

`You want a piece of ass baby' I ask, hoping the tone of my voice doesn't
give away my desperation.

`Ahhh, nah' he replies `I don't want to work this morning honey.  Just keep
that hot mouth working on my cock and I'll give ya a big juicy reward.'

`OK baby, I'll do ya good.  Give me your cum.'  I guess that I'm going to
have to settle for what I can get from this guy.  `Ya mind if I get off
while I'm doing it?'

`Nah babe, that's OK, do what you have to, just don't go spittin or
nuthin'.

`Don't worry lover, I always swallow' I promise.

I'm on my knees, and as my mouth goes back to his cock, I spread my legs
and fish my dick out of the thong that had been confining it in a tight
tuck.  It's limp, but I know that with just the right amount of attention
it will harden and I can beat off.  So I start massaging and pulling on it
with my right hand as my left rests on his right leg to steady me.

But before I have a chance to get very far, I feel the tell tale signs of
his climax building as the veins in his cock swell.

`Oooh...shit...ooooh...I'm...ooooohhhhhh!'  he exclaims as I feel the first
spurt hit the back of my throat.  I pull out a bit so that the entire head
is in my mouth as it spurts wildly.  I time my swallowing just right, not
letting my mouth fill completely before gulping it down, then letting it
fill to the same point.  As proud of my cock sucking skills as I am, I'm
equally proud of the fact that I have perfected the art of swallowing to
the point that I never, ever, waste one drop of the pearly liquid.  I can
keep up with the most prolific cummers!

And this one is prolific, I count 4 separate mouthfuls before the flow
tapers off and I have a chance to savor the taste he had left in my mouth.
Strong and tart, one of my favorite flavors, and I suck and lick until
there is no more in him or on him.  Then I lick my lips and take in what
little had oozed out around the `O' my lips had formed around his cock.

`There' I say `all empty and all clean.  And all in my stomach, just like I
promised.'

`You're the best baby' he compliments, as he stands to go.  `Watch the
movie on me' and he leaves a token on the seat next to him.

`Thanks baby' I reply `and thanks for the good time.  See you later?'

`Yeah, see ya round', he promises as he slips out the door and closes it.

And with that I get off my knees and sit on the bench.  I put the token in
the slot and dial up a shemale movie as I tug gently on my still only half
hard dick.

As I sit there my mind wanders back again to those early years...


Young Times (the between years) Part V

My second night as a TV hooker promised to go a little easier than had my
first for two reasons.  First, it was the second night and therefore I had
some idea of where I was going, what was expected of me, and what I could
expect.  And the second reason was because I thought I would be treated
better by Mandy and her friend, my fellow hookers from the night before.

And I was right, Mandy welcomed me with, if not enthusiasm at having
competition for the scant business that went down, then at least a
begrudging acceptance of the fact that I was there and would be there to
stay until Bill said I wasn't.  I think Mandy resented me because of my
looks and my `whiteness' but in the end was so afraid of Bill and Cookie
that she made `friendly' and `protective', telling Bill several times
before he left `I take ker huh, fo sho.', which may or may not have
influenced him.  But at least he was civil to her, while letting her know
that if anything bad happened to me, no matter who did it, that she would
answer to Bill.

Street hookers may or may not form bonds, but one thing they do is trade
experiences.  It can be a long time between johns, and no matter how you
may have seen us strut and pose, when there are no johns around we tend to
pass the idle time the way other girls do – we bitch, we gossip, and we
share our life's story with any kindred spirit willing to pay us attention.

And this evening the traffic was non existent when I go there.  Both Mandy
and the white girl named Cupcake were on the corner, smoking and talking.
After a little idle chit chat the conversation turned to how we each ended
up on this street corner, and I received my first glimpse into the world of
transvestism, transgender, and transexualism.  Over the course of the next
two weeks I would learn more about these two `girls' than I knew about most
anyone.  Although this information came to me in bits and pieces, I've
summarized it for the reader in this chapter.

Mandy started `dressing' around the age of eight, first just innocent make
believe role playing around the house.  After that phase quickly ran it's
course her `hobby' progessed to the actual wearing of girls clothes, first
a few things of her mother's and then actually stealing girls underwear
from several clotheslines in her neighborhood.  Her mother caught her in
her room one day, dressed, and punished her by making her keep the clothes
on til she went to bed that night.  Instead of the humiliation her mother
expected from this `punishment', Mandy was overjoyed by this, her first dip
into the pool of transvestism.  And rather than `curing' her as her mother
planned, the experience convinced her that she needed more of it.  By the
time she was in middle school, her mother had given up all attempts to
convince her otherwise, completely ambivalent about how her son dressed
around the house.

It was puberty that shattered her mother's ability to deal with the
situation.  Like most boys, puberty had the effect of turning our world
upside down and bringing out desires we had no idea were in there.  Mandy
was outed when he let those desires overrun what little discretion a boy at
that age has.  The resulting incidents all caused an uproar at school and,
eventually, at home.  His mother's pendulum swung to far travel the other
way and she cracked down on Mandy like a prison warden.

Of course that didn't help the situation and Mandy ran away, at age 15, to
the dark secret street life of SE Roanoke.  `Living' in an abandoned
warehouse with an odd assortment of homeless men and women and working the
streets for enough money to survive, he hooked up with a kind older
gentleman who took him in.  Mandy became a virtual slave to this guy,
cooking, cleaning, ironing for him in exchange for the security of a real
home, complete with a place to sleep and three square meals a day.  But,
even with this security, Mandy wasn't complete.  The desire to dress as a
girl pervaded everything she did, and her benefactor made it perfectly
clear that her dressing was not part of the deal.  He politely corrected
her once, and then threw her out when he came home one day and found her
dressed for the second time.

After a few nights on the street, Mandy crawled back to her mother, her
last resort really, and promised to live a celibate, `normal', albeit TV
lifestyle in exchange for her old bedroom back.  That strained relationship
had worked for almost five years now, with Mandy's home life completely
separate from the street and sex life.  Her mother knew, of course, that
Mandy was hooking, but as long as she didn't bring it home, everything
stayed on a more or less even keel and they co existed amicably.

Cupcake, the white tranny, was a different story.  He, she, had been
introduced to dressing by way of an affair with the boyfriend of her
mother, who hosted a series of boyfriends after Cupcake's father left.
When she was 14, the then resident boyfriend had befriended Cupcake in an
overly sexual father-son way, cumulating in the boy's first MTM sexual
experience, completely consensual.  So consensual, in fact, that the next
day Cupcake became the pursuer, initiating the sex.  The mother worked an
evening shift, the boyfriend a midnight shift, so after school trysts were
the order of the day.

It was the boyfriend who encouraged Cupcake to dress, complimenting her on
her looks and body.  Borrowing panties, bra, and a slip from her mother's
chest of drawers, Cupcake modeled and pranced around the house to the
boyfriends `oohs' and `ahhs' until they were both so hot that they had sex
in the floor and finished with Cupcake bent over the kitchen table, with
the panties around her ankles, and the boyfriend pounding her, taking her
anal cherry and any innocence she had left.

Those few weeks of afternoon delight convinced Cupcake that she was a girl
in a boys body, but it made no difference as long as she had a man to love
her and treat her like the girl she was becoming.  Gone were any fears or
thoughts that what she was doing was wrong, replaced by the sense of right
she felt in her newfound feminine role.  Gone were any second thoughts
about what path she was taking, her mind now filled with what and who she
wanted to be.  Born, was `Cupcake', a nickname bestowed upon her new being
by the boyfriend.

This idyllic arrangement was shattered when Cupcake's mother came home
early from work one evening and discovered the two lovers `in flagrante
delicto' , the boyfriends cock in Cupcake's mouth.  The shit hit the fan
with a sickening thud!

Cupcake was on the street that evening, finding a brief respite in one of
the homeless shelters until they discovered her age and turned her over to
child services, who tried to return her home only to be turned away by her
mother.  With no other option at this point, she was returned to the care
of the homeless shelter for the night with the intent of finding temporary
foster care, while instituting legal proceedings against the mother.

Presented with a judge's order, the mother capitulated and let Cupcake come
home, while kicking the boyfriend's ass out on the street.  In my mind, the
right kind of justice was done there.

The mother laid down strict rules about dressing and behavior, and faced
with no alternative that she could think of, Cupcake complied,.  She put up
with living a life not hers both at home and school for the next two years
before meeting the boy who would eventually become the love of her life.
They carried on a clandestine affair after school at his home where Cupcake
could finally dress as a girl again.  After two years of this relief, they
both graduated high school and Cupcake left home for good, accepted at the
homeless shelter now that she was of legal age.

Life in the shelter was not the answer for a transvestite and Cupcake was
beat up several times after being exposed.  She was beaten and raped on
what became her last night there.  Her boyfriend moved out of his parent's
house the next day and the two found an apartment in one of the low rent
sections of SE Roanoke that same day.

Within a week of paying the first month's rent and security deposit they
were broke.  The boyfriend found work as a dishwasher for a local
restaurant, but that only covered a portion of their expenses.  After a
long discussion of finances and the need for money, Cupcake hit the streets
as a tranny hooker.  They had been breaking even financially for the past
two years, and their romance was intact, in fact the lack of money problems
had brought them closer together as they depended on each other even more
than before.

When it was my turn I filled them in on the details of my young life, from
my first homosexual encounter with the two old guys in the boarding house,
my flowering (and deflowering) at band camp, being outed all those times at
school, being prostituted out by my high school teacher, and finally my
running away from home and `working' for Clarence and then Bill.  I think
they were surprised, and a little impressed, at how experienced a seventeen
year old from a small town could be.

And, they found it hard to believe that this was only my second night
dressing as a girl.  According to them I didn't resemble a tranny as much
as I looked like a real life girl.  I guess life on the street was hard on
trannies and I still had the youth and looks of someone who hasn't been
exposed to the wear and tear of prostitution, although I had probably had
as many, if not more, sexual encounters than either of them.

An obvious truth, the beginning of an understanding, began to settle in my
mind – both Mandy and Cupcake had discovered their feminine leanings
before they reached puberty, so when their hormones went wild on them they
had focused not on homosexual relationships per se, but rather saw
themselves as feminine and the relationships more normal male-female.  Both
had found men willing to view the sex more or less the same , with
crossdressing the acceptable passive role, again normal male-female, and
those encounters tended to reinforce, in a strange way, their sense of self
worth.  I, on the other hand, had discovered my fondness for cock before
puberty, and by the time my hormones took off, I already identified myself
as a queer.  And the boys and men I had sex with identified me as a queer,
first in class, then school, then as my reputation grew, as the town queer.
I would soon come to realize that my taste, my behavior, my whole demeanor
straddled a very fine dividing line between homosexual and what today is
know as transsexual.  But in my small town, and my meager knowledge of the
gray areas of human sexuality, you were either straight, or queer.
Transexual was not a choice in small town Virginia in 1982.

Both Virginia and I had some growing to do before we came to terms with
each other.  And on that, my second night on the street as a tranny, I was
preparing to outpace Virginia in coming to, and accepting, those terms.

To be continued...
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