CHAPTER VI
The week went by slowly. Some morning I would wake up teeming with excitement for the weekend. I couldn’t wait until she was back in my bedroom, so I could get into those panties and suck that long, beautiful cock. But other mornings, I woke up with dread swirling in my gut: the knowing that I’d had relations with a biological male. I’d crossed a line that no man should ever cross. I’d sucked a cock. I’d literally had another man’s penis in my mouth, and in a few days, that man would be back wanting to stick his penis in my mouth again.
My memory wasn’t helping me much. I remembered being attracted to Morgan, but I could no longer remember exactly what she looked like. I found myself convinced that she couldn’t have been as hot as I thought she was, seeing as she’d only been transitioning for a few months. I’d had a couple of drinks that night, and I hadn’t had much sleep the night before—maybe I was just delusional in thinking that she didn’t look like a man.
She didn’t have a Facebook as far as I could find, and I wasn’t able to find any pictures of her anywhere on the Internet. I picked up my high-school yearbook and flipped through the pages, trying to figure out who she was. But no one looked like the girl that I had in my memory—though I knew my memory couldn’t be trusted. So who the hell was she? How did my sister meet her?
I wanted to ask my sister, but I was terrified that I would give my sister the wrong idea. I was already living in fear that Morgan would suddenly decide to tell my sister what we did together. And Morgan could prove it too because I gave her the photographic evidence.
It was Friday when my sister told me that Morgan would be coming back. My heart stopped momentarily when my sister gave me the news. “So what? Why would I care?” I said, trying to hide the fact that my heart was fluttering around uncontrollably in my chest.
“Have you already forgotten last weekend?” my sister asked, nudging me with her elbow and a grin.
“Last weekend? What about last weekend?” Now my heart was in the pit of my stomach, burning up in my stomach acid. Did Morgan already tell my sister? Was my reputation ruined? Did my sister now suspect that I was a homosexual?
“Oh, don’t pretend like you forgot. Remember you thought she was an actual girl? You said you would kiss her for five bucks. Hey—if I gave you five bucks, would you kiss her in front of me and my friends?” My sister snickered as my heart relaxed. My sister didn’t know anything—she was just mocking me for that little embarrassing moment before I knew Morgan was a transgender.
Though now I felt strangely angry with my sister. I hated that she just used the term ‘an actual girl,’ as if Morgan wasn’t an actual girl. And maybe she wasn’t—biologically speaking—but wouldn’t Morgan want to be considered an ‘actual girl’? She put in the effort of doing her hair and makeup, getting dressed up, learning the voice, taking the hormones, getting the implants, and so on—so shouldn’t she get some sort of honorary woman status? That was more effort than most of my sister’s friends put into being feminine. Some of those girls couldn’t even be bothered to brush their hair…
That Friday night, I didn’t get a lot of sleep. I knew that I would be in bed with Morgan again in approximately twenty-four hours. I would be feeling that long, throbbing erection one more time. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. I couldn’t wait, but I didn’t want to give my sister another chance to find out about my secret. But what other choice did I have? Could I go out and spend the night at some random party with my friends? Morgan already thought that I would be at the house—she’d texted me that Friday to make sure I would be there. I told her I would be there, and then she said, “Good. Then I’ll dress appropriately.” So if I just left, then Morgan might become upset. And if she becomes upset, that humiliating photo I sent her might end up being passed around that slumber party basement.
It was around 4:00 AM when I finally fell asleep, and around noon when I woke up. I crawled out of bed slowly. I grabbed my phone and checked the time, and saw that I had a message from Morgan. It was a picture of her smooth erection, curved upwards and towards her body like a scimitar. “She’s ready for you,” the message read.
“I’m ready for her,” I replied as my heart throbbed and stuttered. I reached my phone underneath my bed covers and was about to snap a picture of my morning erection. Then my bedroom door suddenly opened. I dropped the phone and pulled the covered up swiftly. My sister was standing in the doorway.
“Are you still in bed?” she asked.
“Yeah—so what?” I said. “What do you want?”
“I need you to set the speakers in the basement for me. I tried doing what you showed me last week, but it’s just not working.” My sister was technologically inept. ‘Setting up the speakers’ was just a matter of plugging them into the wall and then plugging the auxiliary cable into a phone or an iPod or a computer.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I said.
I used that minute to let my heart settle down. I sent Morgan a picture of my throbbing cock, and then I got myself dressed and made my way to the basement to help my sister with her speaker issue. Once my sister was dealt with, I went back to my room. This time I locked my door.
I pulled open that picture of Morgan’s erection and I stared at it. I let my cock become hard again, and then I toyed with the idea of jerking myself off, so that I would last longer when I was actually with Morgan. With my gaze glued to that phone screen, I started to rub the length of my rod. I imagined myself rubbing her rod. I imagined myself bending over and sucking her tip as sweet pre-cum oozed out. I could practically feel her fingers rubbing into my hair, and I could practically feel her soft bum cheeks as I imagined myself reaching around and squeezing.
And then, as I felt that tingling growing in my shaft, I remembered that Morgan always had some naughty idea on her mind. If she knew that I was jerking myself off now, what would she make me do? I ran through a number of filthy options in my mind, and then I thought of one option that got my heart pounding the way it did when I was with Morgan.
Carefully, I crawled up to the head of my bed. I put my legs up on the top of my bedframe and I pulled myself up onto my shoulders. Now I was jerking my cock upside-down, with my swelling tip aimed right at my mouth. Morgan would have loved the sight of this: me about to come into my own mouth. But what if the cum tasted gross? What if I wasn’t able to get the flavour out of my mouth?
My heart stuttered and throbbed, but I didn’t back down. I kept jerking, feeling that euphoric orgasm approaching. I clenched and closed my eyes. I opened my mouth wide reluctantly, and then I burst. I felt the first hot blast shoot straight onto my tongue. At first, I couldn’t taste anything. I could just feel the warm wetness of my load. The second shot hit my bottom lip, so I quickly repositioned. The next few blasts went straight into my mouth, then the last few shots blasted off in seemingly random directions, splashing my chin, my cheeks and my chest. Then that flavour started to materialize on my tongue.
It was bitter, like raw pancake batter. The longer it stayed on my tongue, saltier it tasted. I finally closed my eyes and forced myself to swallow. It went down slowly, coating my throat until my second gulp. But even after a number of gulps and a long sip of water, that flavour lingered in my mouth, reminding me of my newfound degeneracy. Morgan was like an infection, working her way deep into my brain and corrupting my morals and my sanity. Just a few weeks before, I was a proud playboy, sleeping with cute girls without any worries on my mind. Now, I was acting crazy, sucking tranny cocks and eating my own cum like a pervert. What did Morgan do to me? And why was I still so excited for her to show up for my sister’s slumber party?
CHAPTER VII
Morgan smiled at me when my sister let her into the house. I wanted to wave at her and chat a little bit, but I was terrified of letting my sister catch onto our little thing. So I just slipped away to my bedroom and I listened as they made their way down to the basement where the other girls were already hanging out.
/> I stayed in my room for the next few hours, afraid that I would leave and run into Morgan before the other girls went to sleep. I didn’t even want to have the girls see us exchanging glances. Our secret had to remain a secret, no matter what.
Whenever I heard one of girls coming upstairs, my heart would stop. At one point in the night, one of the girls came all the way upstairs and walked right up to my bedroom door. I froze, thinking it might be her—but it was too early in the night. I could still hear the subtle bass of the music downstairs and I knew the girls were still lively and up.
But maybe that would be fun: fucking Morgan quickly, trying to fill her with cum before the other girls even noticed she was missing. I was dying for a blowjob—dying to feel those beautiful lips puckered around my shaft while her expert tongue slid up and down. I was squirming as the images zipped through my mind.
But the girl on the other side of my door carried on, towards the upstairs bathroom. She probably had to make a number-two and didn’t want to do it in a bathroom that the other girls were using every twenty minutes or so. I suppose I didn’t blame her.
It was around midnight when the music clicked off downstairs. It was quiet for the next thirty minutes, and I wondered if they went to sleep. It seemed to early, but I couldn’t hear anything. So I decided to quietly make my way down to the kitchen to get a beer, just so that I could listen to hear if the girls were still up or not.
I crept down the stairs and slowly approached the fridge. As I grabbed the fridge handle, I heard the voice of my sister. “I have a little announcement to make,” she said. I took a few steps closer to the basement doorway so I could hear better. My sister continued. “Next week, I’m going with Annabelle to Waterton for the weekend. Then, I have an artist workshop the weekend after, my family vacation the weekend after that, and then I move for college. That means that this is my final sleepover party. So I snagged this bottle of champagne from my parents’ cabinet. I thought we could all have a glass to celebrate the end of an era.”
My heart suddenly hurt. This was it? This was the last sleepover party? After this night, there would be no more flings with easy girls? After this, I would need to find events to fill my weekends? Would I need to go to random house parties with my friends? Would I need to compete with dozens of other guys? I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want the sleepovers to end yet.
And was I really prepared for my last fling to be with a transgender, and not a woman at all? What if it was another few months before a woman would sleep with me again? What if it was a few years? I could go downstairs and work my way into the panties of one of the other girls—one of the real girls. I didn’t have to sleep with Morgan. I could let her down easy and then sneak one of the other chicks up to my room.
That Annabelle girl—I’d slept with her before and I knew that I could sleep with her again. I had her number in my phone even—I could text her and invite her upstairs. I could plug her and fill her with my load and send her back down to her friends before any of them noticed her missing…
But I didn’t want to sleep with Annabelle. I only wanted to sleep with Morgan.
I went back up to my bedroom with my beer and a churning gut. I didn’t want this part of my life to be over. I wanted it to go on like this forever. I wasn’t ready to be thrust out into the real world where men have to work hard for sex.
Another hour went by. The house remained silent. I kept checking the time as I paced around in my bedroom. I tried to distract my brain by playing some video games, but the video games weren’t able to hold my attention. Strangely, I found more comfort in pacing around my bedroom.
It was around 1:30 AM when I slipped out from my room again. The house was completely quiet now. I went to the kitchen and I couldn’t hear a sound coming from the basement. My heart stuttered. Did all of the girls go to sleep? Did Morgan fall asleep with them? Was I going to spend that final sleepover alone with no sex?
I took a seat at the kitchen table and stared out the window. I thought about the college that I was going to: the local college, just a few miles away. I wondered if there would be lots of girls there. Maybe I could move into the dorm, even though I was just a twenty-minute walk away at my house.
I saw my reflection in the kitchen window. I looked miserable—almost as miserable as I felt. I tried to force a smile for my own sanity, but I wasn’t able to curl my lips convincingly. I knew that these sleepovers would end eventually—I just didn’t think I would take it so hard.
“What are you staring at?” a voice said behind me, making me jump. I turned my head quickly and saw Morgan standing in the basement doorway. She was smiling at me with that adorable smile.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said.
“You thought I went to sleep? That’s funny,” she said.
“Why is that funny?”
“Why would I go to sleep when you and I had plans?” Her smile grew a little bit bigger.
She was wearing a short black skirt and a tight long-sleeved black sweater. It was low cut, showing off the little bit of cleavage she had. She put her hands on her hips and shifted to one side. “Happy to see me?”
I nodded my head as I looked down her body. The sight of her body was a relieving sight to say the least. Throughout the week, I’d convinced myself that I was crazy the week before—that she wasn’t actually convincing and sexy, and that I’d made a big mistake in having sex with a manly tranny. But now I knew that wasn’t the case at all. Morgan was beautiful. She was convincing. Sure—there were a few little spots that showed her masculine past—but they didn’t bother me. In fact, they served as a nice reminder that she had a big cock under that skirt that was waiting to be sucked. I stood up while biting my lip. “Let’s go up to the bedroom,” I whispered, just in case any of the girls were still awake downstairs.
But Morgan shook her head. “What’s wrong with the kitchen? The table is the perfect height.” She walked over and bent over the table. She looked back at me with a smirk on her face.
“B—But they’ll hear us downstairs. And someone might come up. We’d be safer in the bedroom,” I said.
She stood up and turned to me, letting one of those little giggles slip. “I want to do it here. It’s here or not at all—up to you.” She wasn’t able to wipe that smirk off of her face. She knew that she was teasing me. She knew that she was making my heart pound, and she knew that I liked it. I gently put my hands on her sides and felt her slight, soft body. I slid them up to her small tits. I squeezed and she let a little whimper out from her lips.
“What if we make a mess?” I asked.
“Then you can clean it up when we’re done,” she said.
I slid one hand down from her tit to her skirt. It was a short skirt—easy to reach under. I slipped my fingers over the bulge in her panties. I pushed my fingers back and felt something hard over her asshole. “What is that?” I asked. I got a better feel of it, and noticed that it was vibrating.
“Just something to get me warmed up,” she said with a smirk. “You can take it out once you get me off. But you can only get me off with your mouth—no hands.”
I looked over at the basement door, which was open. I was about to walk over and close it, and then Morgan stopped me.
“The door stays open. It’s not fun unless the stakes are high,” she said. Her face was red, but my face was probably redder. I took a deep breath and looked down at her little black skirt. Was I really going to suck her cock in the middle of that kitchen, while eight other girls slept just down that flight of stairs? What if someone woke up and had to use the bathroom or grab a glass of water?
But what was my other choice? To pass up my last chance at sex that I would have for quite some time?
I sunk to my knees slowly. Morgan hopped up onto the kitchen table. She flipped her skirt up for me, revealing that big bulge in her white panties. I reached forward to fish her cock out, and then she slapped my fingers away. “I said you can only use your mouth,” she said. Then she pl
anted her hands back down on the table.
So I did my best with my mouth, gently grabbing her panties with my teeth and pulling them over to the side. It wasn’t hard to get her cock out, as it was already throbbing and growing and stretching out from those tight little panties. It looked bigger today than it did the week before—or maybe that was just my paranoia swelling in my brain. I used the tip of my nose to lift it up, and then I ran the tip of my tongue up the underside of the shaft. My gaze drifted over to that basement doorway. At any moment, a girl could appear in that doorway—and surely they would tell my sister what they saw.
But I had to keep going. I kept licking that shaft, holding it up with my nose until it was hard enough to hold itself up. Then, I stood up tall on my knees and sunk the rod into my mouth. I pressed my lips firmly around her girth and I bobbed my head. Her fingers were suddenly in my hair. She was moaning gently. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I loved the sound she made when she moaned.
I felt her vibrator vibrating against my chin as I went to lick her ball sack. When I returned to her shaft, there was pre-cum oozing down out her tip. I licked it up. It was much sweeter than my own cum—much smoother and more delicate. I swallowed it and then I kept sucking—bobbing my head and slurping my tongue around her throbber.
I bobbed my head faster and faster, using my lips to stimulate her cock. I could feel her veins throbbing and her tip swelling. I couldn’t wait to taste her cum.
“I’m close,” she said. “Just don’t swallow. Whatever you do—don’t swallow.” She let a long groan out from her lips. I looked back towards that basement doorway again. How were the girls downstairs not hearing this? How was this not waking them up? Maybe we were being quiet—maybe it was just my paranoia making it seem like we were being louder than a pack of rhinos in the glassware section at Home Sense.
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