The Big One
This is another random story, and it involves a man with whom I've had an off-and-on sexual relationship for several years.
There is an alternate bar not far from me which once a month has a Girls Night Out, and it's a pretty big deal for the Transgender community in this area. I haven't attended for a few years because of other commitments, but I used to go to the GNO three or four times a year, and the Christmas and Valentine's Day parties are usually pretty extravagant with live entertainment, drink specials, and of course dancing.
I met my friend Ed at one of the GNO, he was an Admirer on the prowl, and I was with a group of four, including myself, who had gone out to dinner and drinks before the GNO opened its doors at ten p.m. He is an unremarkable man, probably at that time he was in his late fifties, about six-foot-one, and probably about two twenty-five, with a build that was heavier in the thighs and buttocks than the shoulders and chest. Balding, sparse white-blonde hair, the kind of eyeglasses which an attorney and accountant would wear, and not the most glib talk-your-arm-off guy, either. In other words, not really the type of man that a gurl dreams about. He's a good guy, and for the purposes of this Blog I can say that two of the good things about him are that he's direct, and he's constantly horny.
A couple of my sidekick girls were into Sissiness, which isn't usually something that I find interesting, but we were buying rounds, and it was buyer's choice, so I was drinking some stereotypical Tranny/Gay Bar drink, a Brandy Alexander or a Grasshopper or a Pink Lady, little parasol umbrella and all. The drink provided him with an ice breaker for conversation, and he made some sort of fairly lame comment that he though that the sissies who drank cocktails with parasols usually wore pink jumpers and Mary Jane shoes with frilly white little girl socks, and I responded defensively trying to explain that it wasn't my choice of drink. We chatted a bit, and he did come on to me fairly aggressively at the time, bodying up on me, and whispering close to my ear that he'd really like to get to know me better, and when I didn't walk away, he intimated pretty strongly that when I got to know him better I'd like him a lot better because the girls loved the Big One. Okay, so that interested me, but I told him I was with a group, that I didn't do quickies in automobiles in parking lots, and that if I was going to find out about the Big One it wouldn't be that night. . We chatted a bit more, and he gave me his phone number with the teaser that if I wanted to meet the Big One all I had to do was call.
I was pretty busy at work at the time, and ignored/forgot about his number for about two weeks, and didn't rediscover it until I was putting the outfit I'd worn to the GNO away in preparation of an overnight visit by a relative. After that visit was over, I sent him a text saying basically, "Hi, this is Starr from the GNO, drop me a line if you're still interested." Less than 24 hours later I got a reply, and we got a telephone conversation going. We agreed to meet in the parking lot of a Rite Aid nearby, since I was reluctant to give him my street address, and I remember that it was in July, and was warm and still daylight at eight-thirty. I got a bit pissed-off at him because I wore a pair of boy-cut walking shorts and running shoes and a short-sleeved, scoop neck tee shirt, and he said he was hoping I would've dressed sexier. Just love those compliments, boys, keep 'em coming! I was fully made up at the time, fingernail and toenail polish, and not a hair on my body underneath my eyebrows, and thought I looked pretty much MILF. I almost kicked his ass out of my SUV and sent him packing, but had just enough curiosity to say to myself that I might as well take him home, chat him up, and make a decision on whether I was horny enough to put up with his lack of romantic banter.
I made him a Scotch and Soda, fixed myself a Tom Collins, and we chatted for a while, and he slid up next to me, put his hand on my thigh, and sort of moaned, and said something to the effect that he really liked smooth girls. He started kissing at my neck and ears, and had his hands all over me, and I was getting aroused myself. He kissed me, and had reasonable technique, and most importantly had the good sense to have used a lozenge or breath spray, and his mouth was sweet. I'm not sure how long we made out, no more than ten minutes and probably a lot less, and I told him to stand up, and I unbuckled his trousers, and slid them and his underwear off, and I saw the Big One in almost its full glory. He wasn't lying. I'm trying to keep these Blogs truthful as my memory and my concerns for the privacy of my lovers permit, so I'm not going to try to make a serious estimate of its girth and length, but suffice to say that my biggest dildo is seven inches long and an inch and a half in diameter, and the Big One is at least an inch longer and even wider in proportion. I wanted it, of course, and I began by licking it with my tongue, as my glands began salivating at the prospect of having it inside my mouth. I wasn't able to get much more than half its length in my mouth because of the girth, but I got it fully hard and engorged, and had Ed moaning as I tickled his balls, and alternately licked and sucked on his cock.
Fearful lest he ejaculate before I had the opportunity to get that huge cock in my pussy, I pulled down my shorts and took his hand and led him to the bedroom. I applied both external and internal dollops of KY Jelly to myself, and handed him a condom. He said, "Oh, you aren't going to make me use that are you?" but I insisted. He broke open the foil wrapper, and I turned around to pull the coverlet back on the bed, and leaned over to lay-out a towel t protect the sheets and mattress. The sneaky bastard saw me with my ass unprotected, and hit me with his full weight, and got the Big One into me, and before I could do much more than yell "Hey!" I was being fucked. The position was that I was facing the edge of the bed, with my hips and thighs up tight against it, and my feet were about two feet apart, and I had given him all the access he needed. It was so damn big that I felt almost impaled, and since he outweighed me by about 75-80 pounds, I was really unable to do anything except collapse down and take it. And, I have to admit, it was spectacularly good, too, the big cock was hitting my prostate gland, and applying just the right friction to the sensitive nerves in my anus, and my pelvis and cockette were getting a very satisfying sensation from being pressed and pounded into the mattress, and within a minute I was simply whimpering every time he thrust into me, and enjoying it. He didn't last super long, and came inside me after hammering me about five minutes. I could feel the spasms of his cock, and was too far into the throes of lust to think much about it. He stepped back, and then collapsed on top of the bed. I was just getting back enough of my composure to think about yelling at him when he turned around, took my cock in his mouth, and started to fellate me while he fingered my ass. I had an orgasm, he said thanks, and left. I never did get a chance to scream at him.
The Big One is the biggest real cock which has ever fucked me, and I've had it inside me every few weeks or months ever since that first experience. Ed and I have never really had any discussions which I would consider to be human communication of emotions and inner feelings, and he remains to me pretty much just a guy with a big cock which I like to be fucked by. I'm pretty sure that he just thinks of me as the skinny, squirmy, smooth crossdresser who has a tight pussy that he likes to fuck. Before going through the drift and the change in lifestyle orientation, I had never believed before that you could be addicted to being fucked by a person for whom you don't really have any affection, but I keep calling Ed and literally asking him to please come over and fuck me every so often. This is Super Bowl Sunday, for example, and the last time I had the Big One inside me was the week between Christmas and New Year's. Truth to tell, I was considering about asking him to come over and fuck me soon, which is why I wrote this blog today. I was thinking of how good it feels, and how much I would like it right this instant.
There is an alternate bar not far from me which once a month has a Girls Night Out, and it's a pretty big deal for the Transgender community in this area. I haven't attended for a few years because of other commitments, but I used to go to the GNO three or four times a year, and the Christmas and Valentine's Day parties are usually pretty extravagant with live entertainment, drink specials, and of course dancing.
I met my friend Ed at one of the GNO, he was an Admirer on the prowl, and I was with a group of four, including myself, who had gone out to dinner and drinks before the GNO opened its doors at ten p.m. He is an unremarkable man, probably at that time he was in his late fifties, about six-foot-one, and probably about two twenty-five, with a build that was heavier in the thighs and buttocks than the shoulders and chest. Balding, sparse white-blonde hair, the kind of eyeglasses which an attorney and accountant would wear, and not the most glib talk-your-arm-off guy, either. In other words, not really the type of man that a gurl dreams about. He's a good guy, and for the purposes of this Blog I can say that two of the good things about him are that he's direct, and he's constantly horny.
A couple of my sidekick girls were into Sissiness, which isn't usually something that I find interesting, but we were buying rounds, and it was buyer's choice, so I was drinking some stereotypical Tranny/Gay Bar drink, a Brandy Alexander or a Grasshopper or a Pink Lady, little parasol umbrella and all. The drink provided him with an ice breaker for conversation, and he made some sort of fairly lame comment that he though that the sissies who drank cocktails with parasols usually wore pink jumpers and Mary Jane shoes with frilly white little girl socks, and I responded defensively trying to explain that it wasn't my choice of drink. We chatted a bit, and he did come on to me fairly aggressively at the time, bodying up on me, and whispering close to my ear that he'd really like to get to know me better, and when I didn't walk away, he intimated pretty strongly that when I got to know him better I'd like him a lot better because the girls loved the Big One. Okay, so that interested me, but I told him I was with a group, that I didn't do quickies in automobiles in parking lots, and that if I was going to find out about the Big One it wouldn't be that night. . We chatted a bit more, and he gave me his phone number with the teaser that if I wanted to meet the Big One all I had to do was call.
I was pretty busy at work at the time, and ignored/forgot about his number for about two weeks, and didn't rediscover it until I was putting the outfit I'd worn to the GNO away in preparation of an overnight visit by a relative. After that visit was over, I sent him a text saying basically, "Hi, this is Starr from the GNO, drop me a line if you're still interested." Less than 24 hours later I got a reply, and we got a telephone conversation going. We agreed to meet in the parking lot of a Rite Aid nearby, since I was reluctant to give him my street address, and I remember that it was in July, and was warm and still daylight at eight-thirty. I got a bit pissed-off at him because I wore a pair of boy-cut walking shorts and running shoes and a short-sleeved, scoop neck tee shirt, and he said he was hoping I would've dressed sexier. Just love those compliments, boys, keep 'em coming! I was fully made up at the time, fingernail and toenail polish, and not a hair on my body underneath my eyebrows, and thought I looked pretty much MILF. I almost kicked his ass out of my SUV and sent him packing, but had just enough curiosity to say to myself that I might as well take him home, chat him up, and make a decision on whether I was horny enough to put up with his lack of romantic banter.
I made him a Scotch and Soda, fixed myself a Tom Collins, and we chatted for a while, and he slid up next to me, put his hand on my thigh, and sort of moaned, and said something to the effect that he really liked smooth girls. He started kissing at my neck and ears, and had his hands all over me, and I was getting aroused myself. He kissed me, and had reasonable technique, and most importantly had the good sense to have used a lozenge or breath spray, and his mouth was sweet. I'm not sure how long we made out, no more than ten minutes and probably a lot less, and I told him to stand up, and I unbuckled his trousers, and slid them and his underwear off, and I saw the Big One in almost its full glory. He wasn't lying. I'm trying to keep these Blogs truthful as my memory and my concerns for the privacy of my lovers permit, so I'm not going to try to make a serious estimate of its girth and length, but suffice to say that my biggest dildo is seven inches long and an inch and a half in diameter, and the Big One is at least an inch longer and even wider in proportion. I wanted it, of course, and I began by licking it with my tongue, as my glands began salivating at the prospect of having it inside my mouth. I wasn't able to get much more than half its length in my mouth because of the girth, but I got it fully hard and engorged, and had Ed moaning as I tickled his balls, and alternately licked and sucked on his cock.
Fearful lest he ejaculate before I had the opportunity to get that huge cock in my pussy, I pulled down my shorts and took his hand and led him to the bedroom. I applied both external and internal dollops of KY Jelly to myself, and handed him a condom. He said, "Oh, you aren't going to make me use that are you?" but I insisted. He broke open the foil wrapper, and I turned around to pull the coverlet back on the bed, and leaned over to lay-out a towel t protect the sheets and mattress. The sneaky bastard saw me with my ass unprotected, and hit me with his full weight, and got the Big One into me, and before I could do much more than yell "Hey!" I was being fucked. The position was that I was facing the edge of the bed, with my hips and thighs up tight against it, and my feet were about two feet apart, and I had given him all the access he needed. It was so damn big that I felt almost impaled, and since he outweighed me by about 75-80 pounds, I was really unable to do anything except collapse down and take it. And, I have to admit, it was spectacularly good, too, the big cock was hitting my prostate gland, and applying just the right friction to the sensitive nerves in my anus, and my pelvis and cockette were getting a very satisfying sensation from being pressed and pounded into the mattress, and within a minute I was simply whimpering every time he thrust into me, and enjoying it. He didn't last super long, and came inside me after hammering me about five minutes. I could feel the spasms of his cock, and was too far into the throes of lust to think much about it. He stepped back, and then collapsed on top of the bed. I was just getting back enough of my composure to think about yelling at him when he turned around, took my cock in his mouth, and started to fellate me while he fingered my ass. I had an orgasm, he said thanks, and left. I never did get a chance to scream at him.
The Big One is the biggest real cock which has ever fucked me, and I've had it inside me every few weeks or months ever since that first experience. Ed and I have never really had any discussions which I would consider to be human communication of emotions and inner feelings, and he remains to me pretty much just a guy with a big cock which I like to be fucked by. I'm pretty sure that he just thinks of me as the skinny, squirmy, smooth crossdresser who has a tight pussy that he likes to fuck. Before going through the drift and the change in lifestyle orientation, I had never believed before that you could be addicted to being fucked by a person for whom you don't really have any affection, but I keep calling Ed and literally asking him to please come over and fuck me every so often. This is Super Bowl Sunday, for example, and the last time I had the Big One inside me was the week between Christmas and New Year's. Truth to tell, I was considering about asking him to come over and fuck me soon, which is why I wrote this blog today. I was thinking of how good it feels, and how much I would like it right this instant.
7 years ago
I think that's A-OK