Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2019 08:41:20 +0100
From: John Quixote <ajohnquixote@gmail.com>
Subject: Stealing a Virgin's Gift (TG)

His instructions had been simple. Suzie was to text him when she
arrived at the hotel.  He had chosen it carefully.  Reception was on
the first floor but the lift would take her from the entrance to his level
directly. All he needed to do was leave the corridor pass door open
and she could arrive unseen.
He would also leave his room door ajar.
She was to come in, close the door and head into the bathroom
without a word.  She could take as long as she needed to change.
And prepare.
Once ready, she should open the bathroom door, simply say "Sir",
and wait. He would tell her when she could actually leave the
bathroom.
The arrival went without a hitch. Once in the room she closed the
door, slipped quietly into the bathroom and closed that door too.
Quickly, she undressed, removing the hated drab male clothes.
Underneath, her body had been well prepared for this meeting.
Smooth, soft and completely hairless. Toenails painted. She was
already wearing sheer black stockings held up by a black satin
suspender belt, and tight black satin panties.
Outside the suspender belt.
Swiftly she added the bra, expertly fastening it behind her back, the
black satin slip matching the rest of the underwear and the
close-fitting animal print dress. She stepped into the black
high-heeled pumps and moved to the mirror to do her make-up.
She applied it rapidly, against her natural perfectionist tendencies to
take her time. The thought had occurred that taking too long to get
ready would annoy him.
The final touches. The wig had volume at the top, was wedged in at
the back, and the sides tapered down to thin wisps.
Expensive-looking streaks and highlights. A dab of Dior fragrance
behind the ears and at the wrists. The plain silver bangle that she
always wore. Finally the nails. A tiny little pot, very expensive, but
the only way to ensure that it dried quickly enough. The same
colour as her toenails, of course.
She hesitated very briefly, then opened the door.
Remember, pitch up a little, slightly breathy, feminine intonation.
She said the word.
"Sir".
She heard him moving.  The room got much darker as she heard
him draw the curtains.
"Come" was all he said.
She saw him seated in the chair, a large comfortable chair. The
only light in the room was from a floor lamp behind him, covering
him in a pool of warmth. He was dressed in a smart, charcoal grey
suit, open collared light blue shirt, black shoes.
And a blindfold.
"I want you to be at ease", he began. "I've decided that we will
continue our virtual meeting face to face. You will maintain your
precious anonymity, while I may be open. We have explored each
other's minds but the process is somewhat laboured. So, Suzie,
you will be free to be yourself. We will talk, I will continue to ask you
all about yourself, your past and what it is like to be a woman
trapped in a man's body. The more you reveal the more I will. I
want to explore your mind, you want to explore my body. Unless
you choose to remove this blindfold, I will not see you."
There was a silence.
"Agreed?"
Suzie knew him well enough. This was a pact with the devil.
"Yes", she whispered.
"Come here, please." The please was an afterthought, a faint nod
towards politeness.
Suzie walked over to him. His hand reached out towards her. It
brushed her leg. She felt him establish whereabouts the hand was
on her. He discovered her knee. Her black-stockinged knee. The
hand moved slowly up her leg, reaching the hem of her dress, a few
inches above the knee, and moving slowly but inexorably on. She
felt him brush up her thigh and a tiny spasm danced up her body.
She felt him move more carefully as he neared her panties. It was
deliberate, she realised, he was building the tension. His first finger
almost imperceptibly brushed against her tight satin panties. She
could not stop a slight intake of breath. He heard it. A slight smile
appeared on the mouth below the blindfold
He feathered with an almost implausible gentleness. He was
deliberately trying to feel the panties and not her.
"Already," he paused, "a hint of moisture."
It was true. She reddened slightly. He couldn't see that, but she
knew that he knew.
"Now, I would like a drink. The bottle is on the table. I bought you a
choice, help yourself."
She moved across to the table, already feeling a tiny pang of
disappointment that this disconnected his finger from her panties.
Suzie poured him a half inch of Macallan single malt whisky and
took it over to him. She put it on the table and guided his hand to it.
Her turn to touch him. A massive, strong hand, so much larger than
hers. And hairier. A hand that could do damage in so may ways,
she thought. She chose a large glass of white wine. Dutch courage.
What had she done? What was she doing?
"Take a seat."
She felt odd at first, seated looking at the sightless man who
wanted to probe her psyche. He was a scriptwriter in real life as
well as being a man who enjoyed the physicality of being with a
T-girl. Their relationship had started that way, him trying to seduce
her. His initial advance had been `I'm a nice guy, I can string a
whole sentence together' but it was a thin veneer over `you're close
and I want to fuck you'. But she made it work, made him seduce her
slowly, allowing her time and discretion. She knew, of course, that
he knew, of course, that she wanted him. His body, his physicality.
She fell for him on sight, just his first profile pics. She flattered him,
reeled him in. He drip fed her more, reeled her in.
This evening was his idea, maybe hers too. She was, as a woman,
a virgin. She knew that to achieve the womanhood that she so
craved, she must eventually give up her virginity one way or the
other. Until his contact it was likely to be the other, give in, settle for
being a wannabe. Instead, she chose to give it to him and this was
the night. She would give him her mind, her memories, fantasies &
fears. She would let him seduce her mind into giving him
everything. He would talk her into walking, freely, knowingly, onto
the sacrificial altar.
She would leave that hotel room a woman.
"Suzie, tell me about the first time you dressed."

She stood up and moved over to him. This was a risk. He might not be
pleased. But she didn't want to be sitting opposite him, as if it were a
session with a therapist, or, God forbid, a psychiatrist. As she told her
story, she wanted to be touching him. This was a big thing for her, and
she wanted it to lead on to something. If not now, then maybe never?
She sat down gently on his lap, and swivelled so that her legs pointed
out  at right angles to his. She felt a twitch from inside his trousers &
almost giggled.   Reassured, she draped an arm around his shoulders
and began her story.

"I always knew that there was something different about me. Not
something wrong exactly, more like something missing. I think other
boys knew as well. Throughout school, I was always just tagging along,
just tolerated. I was never part of the group. Although I wanted to
belong, I didn't really want to be like them. It wasn't me.

During my first few weeks at University I was lucky,  I fell in with some
girls on the course and through them met their friends. They must have
realised that I wasn't a threat, that I wouldn't try it on and that it was safe
to invite me to things. I probably knew that myself, but we have an
infinite capacity to suppress and ignore things that we don't want to
acknowledge.

There was one girl in particular, Heather.  She was, frankly, mousey.
We spent a lot of time together, just the two of us. From the outside, it
probably looked like a normal boyfriend-girlfriend thing. We held hands
in public. We slept in the same bed. It wasn't sexual, but neither of us
cared. We were getting mutual support out of it. We were intimate in a
way that men can probably never understand."

Suzie felt his attention had waned a little,  but this titbit had bought him
right back to her.

"One day, we were getting ready for a party - probably an end of term
prom thing. Neither of us really wanted to go, but it was the done thing.
We were in her room. She was getting ready. Make-up, underwear,
dress, hair. As I watched, she was transformed into something I had
never seen before, and I realised that all women, even the plainest, had
the possibility of transforming themselves, with make-up, clothes,
underwear and hair into someone who, by virtue of their physical
attractiveness, had a power over men. I was jealous. So jealous.

I asked if I could try.   I had meant just the make-up,  it was the age of
New Romantics,  Adam Ant, so boys in make-up were not exceptional.
But Heather took over.

We never made the prom,  we spent the rest of the evening in that
room, with her making me up, dressing me, transforming me.  I was
shocked at what I could look like.

Elated.

Frightened - it suddenly became clear to me where this might lead.

From that evening on, she moulded me. Bought me clothes. Taught me
about make-up,  deportment, moving in a feminine way.  I think she
realised that she was losing something, but that I was not happy before
and now I was. At least happier. I will always love her for that."

"Was it the simply the clothes and makeup, or was it her intimate
attention, the way she treated you differently when she could dress you.
You were responding to her, enjoying the new dimension but actually it
was the novelty of being desired that mattered to you?

Or was it something more fundamental?  Do you think you're a woman
in a man's body?"

So many questions.

"All of those things,  except the last one.  I immediately felt more
comfortable in women's clothes. More myself. I had always found men's
clothes boring. And also uncomfortable. The tie is the stupidest invention
ever. I hated that the only option for men to dress up for an occasion
was the suit, whereas women had so many more options that felt nicer
and were far more comfortable to wear."

"You don't like me in this suit?" He interrupted.  There had always been
a verbal joust in their relationship & he knew he had her.

She gave him that one. "You tease!  You know how good you look."
Suzie wished she had said sexy instead of good.  Too late, she thought.
Time to get him back.

"I loved her attention. No-one had ever shown that interest in me before,
no-one had ever invested that much time and effort in making me look
desirable and to make me happy.

But no, I don't think I'm a woman in a man's body. I don't hate my body
and don't want to change it. We still have a society where, despite it
becoming more and more obvious that actually there is an entire
spectrum between masculine and feminine, most people feel forced into
clearly adopting one of these roles, and society still works on that basis.
I am more comfortable - more successful, in fact, at the female end of
the spectrum, therefore I present as a female, but it's still me in my
body."

She hesitated.  Don't rant Suzie, reel him in.

"I found that I was becoming attracted to men.   One evening we were
in her room, just studying, but I was fully dressed.  A boy from her
drama group came by to drop off a script.  I was initially petrified,  but it
became clear that he accepted me as a girl.  I was elated.   I'd never
even noticed him before & he was nothing to look at, but I realised that,
dressed,  I fancied him."

"And?"  He interrupted, eager for her story.

"Nothing.  I didn't know what to do. I had all these feelings but had no
idea what should happen next.   I was desperately shy & naïve as a
boy, but as a girl I was totally innocent.

That evening,  after he left,  Heather and I had sex.  She put her hand
up my skirt,  felt my erection.  She played with me, masturbated me.
She told me to imagine that she was him. That it was his hand."

"Did you have sex with her often?"

"No, we both knew that was a one off.  We stayed very intimate, both
mentally and physically. Once we had got past that evening, I realised
that I could tell be honest with her about everything. We shared her
deepest thoughts. Physically, we kissed, we hugged, we cuddled, we
slept in the same bed. But it was a very female form of intimacy. I never
penetrated her,  I'm not sure if I could."

Again she hesitated.

"I like women. But now, I realise that the thing that excites me most,
gives me butterflies in my stomach, my grand passion if you like, the
thing I need to complete me ... "

Nerves were overtaking her,  round and round she went, repeating the
same few words, the sentence she dare not finish.

"Is a man."   He said her words for her.

"Come with me,  let me guide you these last few steps, let me complete
you."   He reached up, his blindness made him clumsy.  He turned her
head, moved it towards him, but it wasn't him moving her, his hands
were just the opportunity,  the freedom for her to kiss him.  For her to
kiss a man.

Her first kiss.

A teenager's kiss at 48.

Again,  longer,  more passionate,  more adult.

Quietly,  as if offering her forbidden fruit he said "Here is a
remote. You press, the camera takes a picture, shows on the laptop
and saves to a memory stick. You take it with you. I keep
nothing. Your chance & your choice."
She pressed the button. The flash interrupted their intimacy, but the
result was a surprise. She looked OK. She took a couple more,
taking care in how she looked at the camera.   She looked more
than OK,  she looked as she dreamt she might. Suzie worried each
time she dressed that her eyes were deceiving her, showing her
what she wanted to see. These told her a wonderful truth, set
against him, she looked as she always hoped. She was a woman.
The band kept playing, the couple kept dancing. He, motionless, led
her. She glided across the dancefloor of her life and her
femininity.  Adroitly he guided her away from the dark corners of
the floor where fear and loathing sat like scowling gooseberries with
whom no-one would ever dance. He kept her gliding in the light as
the band's tempo gradually increased.
She asked him to stand, removed his jacket. Slid her fingers
between the buttons of his shirt. Flash. She slightly hitched up her
skirt to allow her leg to extend beyond him. Flash, flash. The screen
approved. Rewarded her.
The band played on. She eased aside the buttons on his
shirt, delighted that her nail varnish exploded out from the
screen.    Flash, flash, flash. He was a rock,  she a climber nimbly
descending.
As the band sped up he kept guiding her dance. His shirt now
hanging open from his broad shoulders. Her hand trembled as she
pulled at his belt. She triggered but no longer looked back at the
screen,  trusting her instincts.
She hesitated.
A thin layer of fabric was all that separated her from him.  She
could see he was all man.
"Suzie."
It was the first time she had heard him speak her name.
"I want you."
She knew it, she could see it. There was no flattery, no deception,
nothing unreal about this. He, the suave, articulate, charming man
was also him, Neanderthal, primitive.
Suzie held his hand,  slipped the remote to him.
Sank to her knees.
Put her hands around his waist and pulled down his trousers and
boxers. He kicked them away.
There it stood.
Her choice.
Her chance.
Don't fear the reaper, one life, no regrets.
Open wide.
She became a woman. She was a woman wanted by a man and
she felt amazing.  All the words she had read in other's accounts of
sex, all the images she had seen. They were her now.
He helped her up, his sightless eyes looked deep inside
her. Expertly he released the clip at the top of her dress, eased it off
her shoulders and helped it to the floor. She stepped out, stood
before him. He caressed her, explored her. His hands softer than
she had expected, gentler in the touch, eager in exploration yet
discreet. Both his hands brushed down the small of her back, inside
her panties. They cupped her bottom, matched her curve
perfectly. Don't take them off, she thought, please don't, please
don't stop, take them off, please.
"Take them off." She whispered.
She heard his appreciative breath, felt his admiring hands, the
conduit to the mind of the sightless.  She knew she had a pert
bottom and great legs, revelled in his tactile admiration as the black
satin panties dropped to her ankles.
"Come on the bed." He was almost tender.
The blind and the virgin guided each other to the middle of the
bed. The large, white duvet welcomed her as he gently pressed her
shoulders down. She was almost in a trance as she felt his
weight, then watched him reach for the carefully positioned bottle.
The realisation of what it contained was overwhelmed by the shock
of his fingers. The lube. The sensation of him touching her, like the
first sunlight on a frosty spring morning bringing life into her
world. Her thoughts became jammed, her breathing stopped. She
was a rabbit in his headlights. Powerless.
It was a whole new world.
Not a new world, another dimension.
Pure womanly, sensual, carnal pleasure. She knew nothing like
this. His fingers expertly teased her, aroused her, built her nerves to
a peak.  Every cell in her body was awake and listening to her
pussy as he played.
Then she felt him. His cock. So hard and so hot. Pressing. Pressing
harder. Forcing her towards the pillows. She held still. Pushed
back. Pushed herself onto him. Felt herself give.
Give in.
Then her head exploded. Her eyes saw galaxies of stars, her lungs
had every drop of air stolen from them and she gasped as it left.
He knew.
He knew to hold still and allow her to battle with her orgasm. He
knew she would fail. He had taken a virgin before and he knew she
could not control her residual body.
It felt so natural to her. Her body was finally at peace with
herself. She squirted in ecstasy like any woman would and she
loved it. She relished the feelings of delight as the pleasurable tide
ebbed away leaving just his massive presence inside her. She
knew he was nothing unusual, she'd seen him up close and taken
him whole in her mouth. Yet inside her, he felt a giant.
A giant who had started to move. Slowly at first. His hands on her
hips, holding her steady as he built up speed. His balls now
slapping against her. Harder, faster. Each thrust causing her to
gasp. Articulate, erudite, educated Suzie became monosyllabic.
"Oh Fuck."
"Don't stop, please don't stop."
On and on, harder and faster. Flipping her effortlessly over to her
side, then to her back. Pulling her ankles over his shoulders, forcing
her double, pounding her. She was a ragdoll. Finally he flipped her
once again and she knew this was the end. His breathing became
heavy, each thrust accompanied by a grunt and then the final
tsunami of his lust.
He roared. Froze, then buckled helplessly away from her and onto
the bed.
She curled, subconsciously pulling away from him. Her pussy
spoke for all her body as it throbbed. She knew she needed the
toilet and fast, but she also knew she needed to be away from him
too. She gathered her clothes & padded uncertainly to the
sanctuary of the bathroom.
The mental dawning of that spring morning showed her future. She
was woman and she loved it. She had made her choice, had him
take her virginity and now she could be free. She could look anyone
in the eye and say "I am Suzie."
She gathered the bag with the drab grey clothes, remembered the
memory stick and left, tall, proud and free. He removed his blindfold
as he heard the door close on him.