The following tale is inspired by actual events. Some of the details have been tweaked for narrative reasons, and similarities to actual people (aside from the main character) should not be inferred.
(words: 2186; would cost $110)
She continues to obsess over feeling undesired and unsexy and unfeminine as she scrambles after work to get things done. It's a better day than the day before, which means she has more ability to choose her reactions, but the anxieties and desires and angst and disappointment and lack of self-esteem are still there. All a combination that, if she were born a cis woman, would likely be labeled "daddy issues" as people judge her promiscuity and relying on others for her sense of self-worth. She knows there's truth to that. But that's a reductive oversimplification. And the fact she wasn't born assigned female means she has a long hill to climb to even be accepted as "female" much less a desirable one.
And so as she speeds to the pharmacy to get one of her hormones (appropriately enough), the recent painful hits to her sexual and feminine self-worth remain bitter and sharp even as her mood and reaction are improved. Improved by some sleep, a night in her own bed, and most especially, by the love and desire of her girlfriend, her best friend, and her fated mate — whose opinions mean the most and generally cut through all the static.
Even so, she still wants to be considered and treated as sexy. To feel sexual, a sexual woman, to be wanted and used as a “woman with holes” and not just, grudgingly by penis-havers, as a “warm body with holes.” Also reductive, she muses to herself, but at least she owns it as a self-ascribed “slut.”
So as she gets into her car with one of three HRT elements in hand, and a gallon of Arizona tea, a thought occurs to her. It's still early before her date with her housemate, and a particular adult theater isn't far . . . perhaps a quick check to see if a moment of feminine sex object validation could be had. It's a risk, she realizes. It was an adult theater that she recently had a demoralizing experience and, truth be told, most visits to a theater end up disappointing. Would this spur-of-the-moment excursion, when it proves uneventful, add to the disappointment and frustration? Or just maintain status quo with which, essentially, is nothing lost.
"Fuckit," she says, and makes the tiny detour from home to the adult theater.
It's the one she's rarely gone to, but it's close and you just have to pay once to get into the booths and not feed the video machines to stay in. Not that she expected to have to stay in long anyway anyway as she did have to get back soon for the housemate time.
She checks herself in the car visor mirror. Well, could be worse. But this would be a decent test of a “worst case scenario.” And, really, it won't take long to realize it was a stupid idea as, after all, Friday afternoon or not, it's still early. There's likely no one going to be there.
There were people there! Many people, in fact. The parking lot was almost full. She made sure her bag only held the essentials: billfold, condoms, flavored lube, personal wipes and sanitizing wipes. She mumbles, "Don't judge me," to an invisible observer and walks in.
As expected, she's allowed into the booths area free. Well, at least I'm femme enough to get into video booths free, she thinks. Entering the dim corridors she immediately hears the sound of fun around the corner. A woman's voice, gawking and gagging in the fun way. A few guys are standing around a connected trio of doors. A couple of them check her out, curious, and a couple others glance at her and look away. Unsurprising.
She stands next to a friendly looking fellow and says (with the greatest effort in trying to femme her voice, repeating the mantra in her head: Up, high, constricted, forward, elongated, "Heat from fire fire from heat heat from fire fire from heat..."), "Wow, something's going on, huh?"
The guy smiles and says, "Yeah, a couple in there, they posted on Fet they'd be here."
Ooohhh! She looks up at the lights indicating the booths on either side are occupied, meaning she's taking on 2 holes at a time. Nice.
"Nice," she says and the guy smiles, and it's a friendly smile, she thinks. Not too lascivious, seemingly sincere. She glances at the other guys standing around: all pretty decent. Well, she thinks, this might be an interesting test. She could go into another booth, and either all the guys will avoid her because there's a "real girl" taking cock. But, if someone decides to use her instead of the cis girl, does that mean something particularly positive? One way to find out.
She walks down the hallway, a flirtatious smile on her face, holding onto her purse strap coquettishly looking up at the lights as if searching for a green one as if they're not terribly obvious. She goes to the first available booth, peeks in to see there's a glory hole on only one side, and walks in. She locks the door, and takes a breath. Well, she thinks, here we go. She hangs her purse on the hook, gets out the flavored lube and wipes, just in case, and barely has a chance to look at what's playing on the video when she hears someone enter the next booth!
She's a little surprised, only just enough time had passed that surely only one of the men in the hallway who saw her, a trans woman, enter the booth, to have gone right into the adjoining one.
She takes off her blouse and folds it as a pad for her knees and kneels before the hole. On the other side a man begins undoing his jeans.
Oh my gawd, she thinks, does he know? Does he not care? She suddenly remembers a bit of glory hole etiquette, and curls a finger in a come-hither move to indicate she's interested in receiving cock and not the other way 'round. He leans down and looks through the hole . . . it’s the guy she spoke to in the hallway! So he certainly knows she’s trans. He smiles and stands up and pulls out his cock, already semi-erect and quickly getting more so.
She takes a breath and bites her lip in excited anticipation as he places his cock through the hole for her. Oh, it's very pretty, she thinks. But then, most are, she muses. She's such a whore, she chuckles to herself. She gives the head a lick, and a kiss, and a suck, and the cock starts bouncing in a heartbeat pace to greater firmness. But even before it's at the full erect state, her mouth is all over it!
Only a couple, maybe a few, minutes goes by where she's giving this pretty cock everything, when she feels him moving in small fucking motion into her mouth, and suddenly, the first shot of cum erupts from the cock! She has no problem swallowing, but still she lets it drool out of her mouth and over her chest as she starts stroking the cock through the orgasm, watching the cum flow in spurts onto her bra and then onto her skirt, and then the floor, as each spurt gets less energy behind it.
She looks down at the pretty glistening white on her, and while her own clit doesn't get firm, she does release her own copious amount of slick into her panties at the arousal of being a good cumslut!
The guy pulls back, and she hears him use some provided paper towel in the booth and wipe off. She, however, stays on her knees and enjoys the feeling of being a used cumslut, looking down at herself. The guy leans down and smiles through the hole, and says, "Thank you," before leaving.
And that's it. That's the best she could have expected, and she's smiling and feeling giddy at the encounter. She starts to pull out a wet-wipe to clean up when she hears the door open again and watches the visible middle of another man walk into the booth. She expects this guy, likely a newcomer to the hallway and just checking out what's in the occupied booth, to look in and then leave. That's usually what happens in the booths in the past for her.
But no. Instead, this guy looks through the hole and sees her face. She smiles with an attitude of, "Eh, heh, sorry."
But then he says, "Can I touch your breasts?"
She starts, surprised. Her usual response, at clubs or whatnot, is to admit right away they're fake. But this time, she says, "Sure." He reaches a hand through and first caresses then gropes one of her gooshy silicone breast inserts. Whether he could tell they were fake or not, she never knows. But after a few gropes, he pulls his hand back and, after brief pause, pushes his cock through!
Oh, gods, she thinks, another pretty one! And this one already stone hard. She immediately gobbles it, and starts practicing her throating. She hears groans of pleasure from the other side and this excites her to make sounds of her own -- all which all add to the continued sounds of the cis girl two booths over continuing to please guys. A cacophony of delightful sounds!
This one takes a little more work, but before long, she feels the tell-tale signs of an impending climax and she quickly throats the head down! She feels a sudden flood of liquid enter her throat directly and the gag reflex jumps back in play. She pulls back, trying hard not to make an embarrassing gagging sound, and succeeds, allowing the rest of the orgasm to spray cum onto her lips while she continues to stroke the cock to completion.
As soon as the last big drop falls from the glistening head, he pulls back and tucks himself away, leaving her on her knees and more cum dripping down her chin onto her chest. This guy quickly departs without a word, but that's alright. She glances at her watch, noticing she only has a few minutes left. She considers cleaning up real fast, but is worried that if another guy comes in she'd have to turn him down, and the awkwardness of it freaks her out. She realizes she's experiencing something of a bit of headspace, feeling a bit lightheaded and euphoric. No, she needed to go ahead and call it.
She grabs her blouse and purse and unlocks the booth just as she hears the next one open! Seriously?? A third?? But she's already out and moving down the hallway. She glances at the guys waiting their turns with the cis couple -- she knows her face is wet and glistening, her hair is hanging loose and wild, she's only wearing a bra and skirt . . . she can't help but smile happy and embarrassed as she flits past to the restroom.
She passes a guy coming out who looks at her, she thinks appraisingly, but it's too quick a passing to tell. She quickly cleans up her face which is indeed a mess, wipes as much cum off her chest and skirt and blouse (that had been on the floor at her knees after all). Brushes her hair, and even put on a touch of new lip stain, before exiting the bathroom back into the dim hallway.
At this moment, this certainly isn't the first moment she's thought of her girlfriend. In fact, this entire time she had been thinking about her: remembering her being wonderfully gangbang deflowered in the best way just a few days earlier! Imagining her there in the booth with her, watching her take cock. Imagining the two of them sharing, maybe in a booth with two holes and each at their own hole racing to see how many each twin could get to cum for them. Mostly just wishing she could share this exciting, sexy adventure with her.
She didn't know if phones out was allowed in the hallway, but she risked it anyway to take a couple of shots of herself, post cockwhore cumslut encounter! She's tempted to send them now, but her hands are still shaking from excitement, so, not trusting them and still unsure about rules on phones, she puts it away and exits the booths.
The drive home is quick, and surreal. Daylight out, ordinary people out and about. And here she was with barely wiped-off cum on her clothes, on her chest. For a moment she starts panicking that she's going to get pulled over and makes sure to drive very carefully! (It’s dangerous now to be pulled over while being trans.)
She's home quickly and tells her housemate she'll be ready for their time in just a minute as she heads to her bathroom to gargle some Listerine, take her Doxy, and use properly warmed wet towels to clean up and put on fresh clothes.
But as soon as she can, she messages her fated mate to tease her about a sexy story she'll tell later!