Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Wild Night At the Tranny Bar II

Posted by Pamela at 10:31 PM 5 comments

OK...here's the story I promised. Let's see if I can remember all the details. After this, I also have a couple of other fantasies I have queued up to post.

This story happened several years ago when I was in-between long term relationships and having a fling with a fetching young transgirl in her early 20's. Let's call her Monique. Monique was one of the most straightforward and un-neurotic transpeople I've ever met in terms of her sexuality. She just laid it all out there for the world. In addition to being your run of the mill sexed-up autogynephiliac, she also identified as a "sissy girl", which meant she was into young girly clothes and age play... ie. she liked to play the role of a "girl", not just in gender, but in age as well. Now, most people who have that particular... prediliction tend to be pretty deeply in the closet about it, and therefore tend to be totally neurotic, secretive, furtive, etc., until it all comes pouring out in some strange and twisted way in a massive midlife crisis. Not Monique. Sometimes she would even wear her little mary janes and girly satin petticoat dresses (sometimes secretly cum stained on the inside) to her college classes and chat with her Human Sexuality friends about it all. And she was totally out at her part time job, too. She was almost like a Gingerfred Man character brought to life. I really had to hand it to her. I definitely learned some things from her about being out and proud about my own interests. Anyway, more about her later.

By this point in life, I'd been going to one particular tranny bar on and off for several years - basically whenever I got a wild hare to get all dolled up. On this particular night, I had really outdone myself. I was wearing nude thigh-highs (easy access), a satin mini-dress with matching high heeled open toed sandals, and pink bra and panties underneath. I was a cute frosted cupcake, my blonde hair and makeup done to the nines, nearly passable. I had a throbbing in my panties whenever I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. 'My gawd, is that me?' I was getting really ramped up, and giving off a sexual vibe.

I hadn't been there long when an attractive middle aged man-woman couple started chatting me up. Let's call then Gina and Everett. As in most cases like this, they were trans-curious, and it was the woman doing most of the talking. Also at the bar that night were two long lost friends, Ronald and Justine, who it turned out were now living together. Ronald had recently split with his ex, Blythe. The two of them used to live in a big house up the hill and throw crazy amazing weekend-long sex parties. (More on that in a later post). Now he was with Justine, who I knew from a totally different scene. She described herself as a "tranny trapped in a woman's body", and I'm sure she was the one who dragged Ronnie with her to the bar that night.

Anyway, we started reminiscing about the "old days", and pretty soon Ronnie decided to throw an "after-party" at his new house. So he and Justine rounded up me, the couple who was flirting with me, another acquaintance of hers named Jason, and also some guy I'd never met before... and then somehow we ended up picking up Monique at her house on the way out of town. She was all dolled up, too.

Back at the house, things started to get a little crazy. Some people had decided to "enhance their perception of reality". After a lot of running around the house and laughing, pouring drinks, etc... people started to split up. Ronnie, Gina and the random guy went off to get naked in the hot tub. Justine sequestered herself in one of the upstairs bedrooms where she was force-feminizing Jason. I was upstairs in the computer room, skirt hiked up, touching myself to Ronnie's internet tranny porn collection. That left Everett and Monique in the living room.

At some point I got curious at what was going on in the rest of the house, so I pulled up my panties and pried myself away from the computer. Justine's door was still closed with the sounds of "yes, mistress" coming from behind - check.

Meanwhile, somebody was bent over the side of the hot tub, the recipient of rythmic thrusting - check.



And finally, there were Everett and Monique, making out on the couch - check!

I decided to be a little actress and play a scene, so I minced over in a pouty huff, pretending to be upset that my girlfriend was making out with a man(!) To my surprise, Everett was genuinely embarrassed to be caught making out with Mo. I realized he was still a little insecure in his heterosexuality due to his attraction to us gurls.

So I sat down on the couch with them to chat and flirt and help get Everett comfortable. Finally, Mo and I did what any red-blooded young American girls do when they're trying to get a guy totally turned on and crazy - we made out with each other. In this case, as we were sitting on either side of him, we looked into each others' eyes, leaned across his lap and gently started giving each other soft girly moan-y kisses, lipstick to lipstick, just inches in front of his face.



We put on quite a show for him, and he had a vivid front row seat. He couldn't take his eyes off us.
But what kind of show was this? Were we lesbians? T-girls? Fags in drag? Or all three at the same time? Who cares. Whatever it was, it was totally hot for all three of us.

What happened next?
To Be Continued...

All photos in this post courtesy Flickr.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Wild Night At the Tranny Bar

Posted by Pamela at 7:17 PM 0 comments
Wild Night at the Tranny Bar
another true story by... Pamela Pantydropper

I absolutely love getting feedback. Thanks to everyone who made a comment on my last post, both positive and negative. Keep it coming! This blog turns me into an attention whore. Maybe that's part of why I had to give it up for a few months.
And of course, I do try to respond to my readers.
One commenter recently asked if I was sure my last post about the subway encounter wasn't a dream - the product of an overactive imagination. Well, to tell you the truth, the last post was actually rather mild compared to some of the strange situations I've found myself in. I guess it's karma - when you put a certain kind of energy out there in the world, it seems to come back to you in places where you'd least expect it. For example, I got gay cruised during the first ten minutes I ever set foot in supposedly ultra-conservative Utah. Another commenter faulted me for never posting a picture of myself. And I also promised my wonderful new internet acquaintance, the great tranny fiction writer Gingerfred Man, I'd share some true stories from my pantyboy past. We'll, you're all about to get what you've been lusting for. Because I've decided to dig out a true story from the memory vaults, back from the days when I was a wild young thang and not the quasi-respectable transwoman (erotic blogging aside) that I am today. It happened about five years after the Sissy on Sissy story I posted in January. Actually, I'm glad to have a reason to write these stories down now while I can still remember, thus saving them for posterity.
So.. without further ado... on with the show.

To Be Continued...

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Subway Encounter

Posted by Pamela at 6:48 AM 4 comments
A Fantasy

The weirdest thing happened on the subway yesterday morning. I still can't believe it's not fiction! First I want to say that in eight years of riding the trains, I've never had anything like this happen, and I'm certainly not the type of person to initiate touching random strangers on purpose.
Here's the story: It was an extremely crowded train when I got on - I and a couple of other people barely cleared the door. The only place for me to hang on was to grip onto the low partition separating the last aisle seat from the doorway. One of the people just in front of me was a professional woman in a blue pinstripe business suit and black pumps, with brunette mid-back length. I never saw her face, as she was turned away from me and the train was too crowded to move. As the train jostled us along, her left hip occasionally bumped against the back of my hand - which did not move at all during this part of the trip, as it was the only thing I was using to hang on.
As we reached the first stop, her hip now lightly pressed against my hand in constant contact. She had a good body and I could feel her softness through the smooth slightly stretchy material of her form-fitting pantsuit. Usually in a crowded train, people try to give each other even what few millimeters they can of personal space, so I figured she must not realize she was even in contact with me, and maybe thought my hand was part of the train, and would move away at any second once she realized she was leaning against a person.
But she didn't. Instead, as the train moved again, she gradually moved more fully against my hand, now pressing the front of her thigh against it. Now I started to wonder what was going on - was she so totally engrossed in the book she was reading that she didn't realize what was going on around her? I felt weird about moving my hand away because it would have been awkward and obvious, drawing attention to the fact that we were in contact.
As we started moving again after the second stop, now she had rotated her body ever so slightly so that her inner thigh was pressing against the back of my hand. The train was still pretty crowded but a little less so now. She had space to move away if she wanted to, but she didn't. Now the question marks in my head were really starting to build.
We both remained that way for a bit - with my hand sandwiched between her inner thigh and the partition, and with her facing away from me reading a book. Meanwhile, I got paranoid that the people in the seats in front of us could see what's going on, so I pulled out my iPhone with my free hand and pretended to engrossed in reading. But I had to know if she was doing it on purpose.
So what I did was I ever so slightly moved my thumb, which was hidden from the view of the seated passengers by the partition. Her inner thigh was pressed against the back of my thumb, and as I moved it maybe a centimeter, she pressed her thigh more fully into my hand. Holy shit. She's doing it on purpose. I can't believe this! This is too unreal. Now more certain what was happening, I decided to experiment by slowly moving my thumb back and forth in an almost imperceptible stroking motion against her inner thigh. She just kept reading her book like nothing was happening, still pressing her thigh firmly into the back of my hand. I slowly, gradually increased the pace and firmness of my stroking.
At the next stop, a lot of people got off. She now had plenty of space to move away. I was still trapped between her and the wall of the subway car, so I had no where to go. I couldn't move until she moved. She looked up for a second, almost as if she was deciding if the gig was up, would it look too weird if she didn't move into the empty space... but no, she decided to stay where she was.
As the train started moving again, she kept her body exactly where it was - still firmly trapping my hand between her thigh and the partition. I moved my thumb a little more to the right... she rotated her thigh almost imperceptably to the left... and I suddenly realized where my hand almost was. Still without moving the rest of my hand that was visible, I lifted my thumb into a sideways "thumbs up" position, which brought it straight up between her thighs, resting against her crotch. I held my breath as I felt her thigh muscles suddenly tense against the back of my hand - uh oh, was the jig up? Did I go too far? But no... instead she flexed and rotated her hips slightly forward - which had the effect of sliding her crotch more fully onto my thumb! I had long ago popped a serious boner in my pants over all this. What I assume was her clit was now pressed firmly against the knuckle of my thumb. I kept it perfectly motionless. She didn't move her hips again - maybe it would have been too obvious? - but I felt her tense and release her muscles a couple of times on my thumb, which had the effect of massaging her crotch against the back of my hand. Holy shit, that turned me on. Oh god, where was this going next?
Suddenly, and without any acknowledgement, she moved away and stood near the subway door, head slightly down for the next couple of minutes until we reached the next stop. Did she suddenly come to her senses about what she was doing? Get nervous? Get too turned on? Was she afraid she'd cum in full public view? Now that I was no longer pinned against the wall, I looked around to see if anyone had been watching. One guy in a seat made eye contact with me, then quickly looked away. Did he see...? At the next stop, she got off without looking back, walking purposefully, heels clacking against the subway platform floor.
I never got a look at her face, and don't even know if she was Caucasian or Asian. It was my stop too, but I decided not to follow, for fear of being called out as some sort of pervert. Who know who she was or where she went? But that's the story of the businesswoman who molested my hand on the subway.

All photos courtesy Flickr.
 

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