B-Day Ch. 01

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You know the old saying, “opposites attract”? In the case of me and my lover, that statement’s only partially true.

Sure, there are some differences between us. Evander’s nearly twice my age. I’m short and olive-skinned, while he’s insanely tall and dark like pure coffee. I’m the child of Burmese immigrants, while he was born and raised right here in Harlem.

At the end of the day, however, these surface differences matter little. What we have in common is much more valuable. We share many passions: cooking, backpacking, vinyl hunting.

What’s been consuming us of late, however, is our mutual investment in solving a physiological conundrum of sorts.

Let me explain.

I’m a trans girl. I’d been on hormone therapy for almost 2 years before I met him, and by then, he was certainly not the first straight man to ask me out on a date.

Truthfully, my transition wasn’t dramatic; I’ve always been very femme. And I never had much going on “down there” to begin with, so it didn’t take long to reduce my junk to something too tiny and soft to qualify as a penis.

At first, I worried Evander would be like the other men I’d met in recent months who, upon learning my secret, relegated me to novelty status. To them, I was just a freaky diversion, a box to check off on their list before they settled down with a “normal” girl.

While I won’t lie and say I didn’t have a bit of fun in that role, I was ready for something more meaningful. Evander fulfilled that wish more deeply than I could have imagined.

But eight months in, there’s still one wish I still haven’t fulfilled for him. He wants to fuck me, and I want him to. But we both know there’s only one way for that to truly happen, and it’s through my butthole. Now I’ll admit, the idea’s certainly arousing. We’ve been watching a bit of porn on the weekends, and I certainly don’t look away during the anal scenes. But as much as I like the idea of Evander taking my ass, one look at his penis will give you an idea why it’s never happened.

It’s gigantic.

I’m not talking about “I’m bragging about my boyfriend” big. I mean, scary, one-in-a-billion big.

The fact that it’s longer than my forearm is one thing; the fact that it’s thicker is another. Even when I clasp it with both hands, my fingertips just barely meet. I’m not joking, although illegal bahis I wish I was.

In truth, I’d always struggled to truly enjoy being penetrated. I’d already had sex with a few fairly average-sized guys by time we met, so the sensation wasn’t foreign to me by then, but it mostly “came with the territory.” With Evander, however, I knew I’d have to up my game.

I started coming up with creative work-arounds. On those nights when he was revved up, I’d break out the massage oil.

We’d rub it all over my butt, and then I’d sandwich his member between my slippery cheeks, squeezing them together while he slid back and forth over my crack. I would tell him to pretend he’s penetrating me, and I acted the part as best I could. It was a nice distraction for a while, but I knew he still wanted the real thing. Frankly I did too, but it didn’t seem possible to me.

Eventually, I told Evander my fears. It felt silly to admit, but I was nervous about what effect it might have on my body. I even stupidly asked him if I’d have to wear diapers in the future, which made me blush to say aloud.

I knew it must have sounded so backwards, like typical third-world ignorance. But he just nodded sagely as he always does, without judgment, and assured me that he’d never hurt me like that. He would wait for me to be ready, he said. As long as it takes.

Still, I began to feel insecure, and then desperate. I started contemplating full reassignment surgery, even though that frightened the hell out of me.

And then I started wondering if maybe some ravishing, unusually talented woman from his past had accustomed him to pleasures I couldn’t offer even if I had all the right equipment.

It came to a head one night when he aborted our massage oil session with an abrupt sigh. When I turned to ask him what was wrong, he rolled over and told me that it wasn’t good enough. I went to sleep with tears in my eyes.

I knew it would be hard to get him to talk about his past lovers; in general, he’s always been reluctant to recall the past. But I was still determined to know more, so one night after a long dinner date which included several strong cocktails, I got him to put his guard.

He said it wasn’t me. I asked him to elaborate.

He revealed that he’d slept with dozens of women, even came close to marrying illegal bahis siteleri one—but none of them had the capacity to satisfy his one true sexual wish: anal. He even revealed that a hired escort once declined the request after he dropped his pants.

In a way, I was relieved. All that time I thought the boundaries of my current anatomy were to blame, and that they had to be fixed. Yet in another sense, this was still the case.

So we came to an agreement. This year, I would grant him a special present. It just so happened that his birthday was right around the corner.

It required some hunting, as well as a bit of screening. Plus, he’s actually very picky. But I’ve found that there are definitely attractive women in this city that are not only aroused by the idea of fitting an x-large penis up their butt, but they’ll show up prepared for the deed, and attempt it great enthusiasm.

All you need to do is find them. Thankfully, some of them are just a click away.

As our online ad specified, we were willing to trade clothed pics first, then faceless nudes of Evander once we established a phone rapport. Finally we’d meet for coffee in a heavily-populated place like a mall or food court one afternoon, and take it from there.

We took some photos of his body—he takes very good care of himself and has a swimmer’s build, since he’s a lifeguard. We took some of his smooth chest, his muscular back which descends to perfectly toned haunches, and of course his amazing penis.

After an initial slew of duds, a handful of viable candidates started to creep into our inbox. Though she wasn’t my first choice, the one Evander was most interested in was a woman named Mariko. When his sights are set on something, he’s resolute. He knew she was the one pretty fast.

Mariko’s first emails were brief and vague. She was Japanese, and claimed to be in her early 40’s, but looked a bit younger—inspiringly so, I thought, if her pictures were to be believed.

She said she worked as a gallery assistant, though in her discretion she hesitated to reveal which one. The pictures in question were quite alluring, and displayed an unexpected artfulness. In sharp black and white, her compact body flexed lissomely into dramatic poses.

Unlike us, she didn’t hesitate to include her face in her nude pictures, canlı bahis siteleri her dark eyes staring down the lens challengingly as she bared herself.

Her face was broad and smooth, with short black hair that covered her forehead in neat, slinky bangs. Evander approved of her small supple bottom, her elfin breasts, and her unshaven pussy.

Over the course of the next week she’d send two to three new pictures of her self per day, some of them appearing to be professionally taken.

At some point, her pictures started getting raunchier. One sent exclusively to Evander was an image of her standing against a white wall naked, spreading her butt cheeks to reveal the rubbery knot of her anus.

I immediately began to worry. What if she’s what he wanted all along? Could she steal him away from me? A woman with an unlocked backdoor just waiting for the perfect visitor—and when he’s had his fill, she has yet another path he can travel…one that could even lead to a baby, a family? Oh God.

Equal parts jealousy and lust coursed inside of me. I found that my imagination was all too quick to conjure up vivid images of them together.

What was worse, he’d already intimated to me that he would want me to be present for their meeting. I wanted to resist the idea. But then I wondered, would turning a blind eye really benefit me?

As uncomfortable as it might be to watch, at least it wouldn’t be behind my back, where my imagination would run wild. And maybe—just maybe—seeing it actually happen would be instructive in some way?

I resigned myself to just being a fly on the wall, or at best an appetizer for the main course. There was no way for me to know how that would sit with me unless I tried.

Mariko said she did not wish to talk on the phone, or meet in any of the safe public places we suggested. Our house, she said, was fine.

In so many words, she admitted to having done this kind of thing enough times to determine that we were trustworthy. And plus, she didn’t want to wait to get to Evander much longer.

I followed her lead and scrapped the mall plan. She seemed legit. Our house on Friday it was.

Evander reminded me that he loved me, and no one else. And he added that no matter the outcome, this was an excellent gift.

It made me smile to know that I’d finally discovered a present that I knew for sure he’d use. If I couldn’t crack the code on my own bodily limitations, I’d hire a stunt double.

By the time our meeting date came around, we were both eager to meet her.

To be continued…

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