Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg,j
From: an336092@anon.penet.fi
Date: Fri,  4 Aug 1995 23:49:24 UTC
Subject: True TG Story from the other side


The following is a true story. 
                        
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PART 1

Mardi Gras in New Orleans is a special time. I walked down Bourbon
Street after dinner that night with my business partners and we watched
the crowds barter for beads. The pretty young girl at street level was
pointing up at the balcony to the young man with dozens of strings of
beads around his neck. 

"The white ones!" she shouted, gesturing to the boy. 

He touched a string of beads with inch-round pearly beads. She nodded
vigorously and waved to him to throw them down. He pantomimed pulling
up his shirt to her and then held the beads out over the edge of the
balcony. The crowd started to chant.

"Show your tits! Show your tits! Show your tits!"

The young girl only hesitated a moment before she drew her T-shirt up
to her neck, dropping her ample breasts into view. They were white from
being hidden under chaste clothes for most of her life, in sharp
contrast to her tanned youthful body. She held the shirt high and
leaned back so the boy on the balcony could see her pink, erect nipples
and the white swell of her proud gift glowing in the light of the
street lamp. The crowd roared in approval and the frenzied shout
drowned out the sounds of the jazz in the near-by bars. The girl put
her wonderful gifts away, but I could still see the nipples poking at
the fabric of the T-shirt. The boy carefully tossed down the beads. As
she caught them, the crowd cheered its approval. 

Soon cries of more revelry erupted a half a block away. I thought about
the girl. She seemed to be your average young American, normally chaste
and shy, who found release to her secret inner wishes in the anonymity
of the Bourbon Street Mardi Gras crowd. How many other people used this
time to indulge in the acts they wished they could do, but knew no time
or place where they could? This was a special time... a special place.

I turned to talk to one of my companions, but they were gone out of
sight. I walked slowly in he direction we had been walking and looked
for them, but could never see them again. Well, I thought it would be
best for me to head back to the hotel and call it a night. It was after
midnight, after all, and we could meet up in the morning. 

I walked toward the main drag along Bourbon Street, stopping to watch
the flashing breasts and the occasional dropped trouser. People
streamed by in the thousands; some in suits, some adorned with 20 lbs
of beads, some sad, some drunk, some very,very high. I figured I was on
my own, so I stepped into a strip club to check out the action. Sad
looking girls danced slowly on the stage. I bought a beer and watched
for a while. Soon, a thin blond girl in a lacy body suit sat next to
me. She had runners in her clothes and a big angry bruise on her thigh.

"Would you like a table dance?" was all she said. 

I looked into her eyes and felt sorry for her. She had a far-away,
trapped kind of look. We went to the back of the room and she stood on
a small stool to dance for me. She stripped quickly and made all the
right moves for the customer. Her small breasts were low on fuel and
looked half empty. Now, close-up, the bruise on her leg had the look of
knuckles and a fist. When the song was over, I paid and left, feeling
somewhat let down from the exuberance of the street crowd to the sad
eyes of the girl in the club. I was headed back to the hotel now, ready
to quit for the night.

I was near the end of Bourbon street, only a few blocks from my turn to
the hotel region of New Orleans. I was still walking slowly, looking
around. I looked at a billboard on my right and stopped dead. This was
different! Here was a club that advertised "she-male" dancers. I looked
at the pictures of the girls and something inside me stirred. I was
rooted to the spot. I had seen pictures of transsexual people, of
course. I had also seen films of transsexual people at the peep shows
in the adult theaters. In fact, I had discovered a fascination with
this subject and these people, but never had been this close to flesh
and blood. I am a middle-aged, heavy set business man who never had any
other relationship other than one-on-one heterosexual sex. But now I
knew this was a chance to satisfy a craving I had had for years and
that this chance would not come along again. I looked to the doorway
and saw a girl trying to draw in some customers. She looked me right in
the eye and I think she could read my mind. She took the few steps over
to me, smiling broadly and linked her arm in mine and said, "Come on,
honey, you'll have lots of fun." I didn't resist as we went through the
door together and I ignored the stares from the crowd and jeers from a
group of sailors. 

The doorway was dark, and the club even darker. As we stepped into the
club, I felt her hand in my crotch, rubbing lightly on my penis through
my pants in a tender, loving caress. I responded instantly, to my
surprise, snapping to attention and not pulling away. We entered the
club proper and she let go, but when I looked at her, she was smiling
and looking me right in the eyes. She guided me to a chair by a table
and I sat down, facing a stage where a girl was dancing to the heavy
beat of some rock song. The girl who guided me into the club asked what
I wanted to drink and disappeared to the back to get my beer.

I leaned back as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the club. The
dancer was a stocky transvestite with lots of make-up and wild looking
hair. She strutted back and forth to the beat of the music, turning
around now and then to poke her ass out at the customers. She didn't
interest me too much because she had no obvious breast augmentation.
All of the transsexual people that had intersted me in the past were
very feminine in appearance and demeanor, and the dancer didn't quite
fit the bill.

The girl who had guided me into the club returned with a beer and asked
if she could sit with me. I told her to join me and she pulled a chair
close and sat crossing her legs. I had my first chance to really take a
look at her. I decided that they must have females working at the club
besides the TV who was still dancing. She was a dark, olive skinned
beauty. Her eyes were large and shocking green. Her hair was jet black
and slightly curly, covering her shoulders. She had ample breasts which
were not quite contained by the flourescent orange bikini top she wore.
I could see the aureole, dark brown against the only slightly lighter
skin. She was what I would call just right in body proportions, but
many might see her as chunky. I don't like skinny girls. 

"What's your name?", she asked. "I'm Marguerite."

I told her my first name and she casually laid her hand on my thigh.
"Is this your first time in here?"

I told her that I had never been in this club, or any other like it.
She and I made small talk and I sipped my beer. While we talked, I
looked around the club to see what was going on. There were two or
three couples sitting at tables near the stage on an upper level of the
club, a few steps up from where I was seated. I the back of the upper
level were three or four rows of tables with an isolated patron or two
sitting at the table watching the stage or talkingto one of the club
girls. I looked back to the couples and saw that they were
boyfriend/girlfriend pairs and not customers with a club dancer. This
really surprised me and I wondered why they had come in here.

Marguerite and I chatted lightly as the girl dancing finished out her
set. She told me it was her turn to dance and asked if I would wait for
her. I nodded and leaned back to watch.

Does anyone want to see 2/3 and 3/3?