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(not a lot of detailed sex, just setting the story for chapter 9, the true start of becoming a cock sucker)

After Jillian and I split, I went back to my usual self. I chalked things up to an experience, a want, and something I felt I needed to do. And I had achieved it. But it was time to move forward. I joined every dating site I could find online, seeking women. I found myself chatting with women, occasionally having a date, but never developing anything further or worth noting. I wasn’t too concerned with it, I still felt I needed more experience with dick but had confined myself to believing if it was meant to be, then it would happen. But if I was going back to dating women, I needed to get back out there and find one that fit my needs.

I remember Jillian telling me she had been on “those types of dating sites,” and I recalled her saying that if it was a shemale, the face picture would be really close up, but any full body pictures would be very distant, as not to reveal the manly physique or to show a possible bulge.

I was thumbing through profiles one evening and ran across a Filipina woman named Geenah’s profile. Right off the bat, I could see her main profile picture was way up close and everything else was from a distance, in a dirty, dusty mirror, so you couldn’t see her body very well. I wrote to her because I thought she may have been a shemale. Plus, I always had an interest in Asian women anyway, and within a day or so, she replied.

We chatted back and forth on the site for a while, until we felt comfortable enough to exchange numbers. We texted back and forth getting to know one another and on occasion, I’d look at her profile again, to see if she had uploaded any newer pictures. One day there was a new picture of her and I guess some co-workers, and even though she was turned a bit sideways, I saw a small bulge and believed there was a dick in those pants and not a pussy. Or at least I suspected that.

When the time came for us to speak on the phone, I didn’t mention it, I just kept the conversations going developing an interest in one another and getting to know more about each other. But after a few other conversations, I had to see if she was, but without being forward and asking. I asked her several times to tell me something different about her than any other woman. Or in essence, what was special about her? She beat around the bush for a while trying to list off work qualifications, that she was born in the Philippines, worked at the hospital, etc. But I kept pushing because I believed she was and, I just wanted her to admit it.

Finally, she said to me, “Well, before we meet, I guess I should tell you I am Trans. I don’t know if you know what that means. I was born a boy, but live as a woman.”

At this time the word Trans, or Transgendered had taken the place of Shemale. I knew what she meant and advised her it didn’t bother me because I had dated trans girls before (I fibbed a bit) and we moved forward in conversations.

We met for dinner a week later and had a wonderful evening. Geenah was very attractive. She was only 5’7, very thin build with broad shoulders, and had breasts that were a bit big for her physique. She had long black hair, thin fingers, spoke very deeply, but feminine, and had an ass that was rounded. Nothing much happened through dinner, or after outside of the usual first date procedure, but I felt something more was going to happen.

Geenah lived just outside of a bad part of town, in a newly redeveloped area, with rows of thin, tall, townhouses. The first few times I went there I was very uncomfortable. One because of the neighborhood and two, her place was so dark and dreary with blankets over the windows, and very unique furniture, that was set up so oddly in this small thin building.

The first time we had sex was the third time I saw her. We didn’t go out; she had just invited me to her place. After watching a bit of some Filipino movie, she put on we started kissing and touching. It wasn’t long until her face was between my legs with my hard dick in her mouth. I followed suit and sucked her dick until she came. We lay around for a while after, but then I kind of got the hint it was time for me to leave. So, I excused myself and left.

Every time I was there it seemed we only had sex in the front room, or the second bedroom. I guess I should have seen through all of this at the time, but my focus was on sucking dick and getting my dick sucked than the obvious signs I should have noticed.

Geenah was weird when it came to conversation and sharing emotions or thoughts. I just drew up her wording and communication to a breakdown of two different upbringings and her nationality. She was always nice and pleasant, but I would truly define her as a man. I know that sounds contradictory since she lived as a woman, but it seemed when she wanted her dick sucked, I got the call, but as far as developing anything more in terms of a relationship, maslak escort I didn’t get the call.

Sexually, I was having fun. I liked her dick. It was sexy. It was smooth and shaved. Had a nice round tip. It was only about 4 and a half inches long, but was thicker than anything I had seen before and I liked sucking on it. I could take every bit of it into my mouth without even coming close to gagging and she was always very forward and very aggressive when she wanted it. I was just happy I had found someone with dick again and was getting more experience. As much as I could boldly suggest I was on my way to being “gay,” I was still being very secretive, very discreet, still interested in women, albeit I was sucking cock, and I surely wasn’t letting anyone know I was involved with someone who had a dick. My passion for gay sex, and sucking dick, superseded my cognitive thoughts, and on many occasions, when she would call, I’d be driving down there to suck her off and get sucked off.

Geenah and I developed what I later termed the “occasional sexcapades.” It seemed every 10 or 12 days I’d end up going to her place, or her to mine, we’d fool around, suck each other’s dick, and then leave for the night. She never asked me to spend the night, never volunteered to spend the night by me and there would be times I didn’t hear from her for a week or two, only to get a text message apologizing to me, with some excuse about having to work double shifts or family problems. We never went out, never really dated, in the aspect of the word, and only spent time together fucking, like a friends-with-benefits situation would be. I really didn’t care. I wasn’t necessarily trying to build some in-depth relationship with her, at that point. But, in my mind, I kept thinking that if I was going to change sides and date someone with a dick permanently, I needed something more than this.

I’ll be honest and admit Geenah was the first person to truly fuck me. To be inside of me pumping away. And In turn, I began fucking her as well. It was weeks into our relationship when she put me on my knees and slid her dick inside of me, staying hard long enough to finish. The problem with it wasn’t that I was being fucked, or the thickness of her dick, it was that she would cum fast during penetration. I’d usually only get 2 or 3 minutes of being penetrated, until she got off. Whereas, I would be in her for 10 to 15 minutes, depending on foreplay, until I would cum in her. Moreover, as exciting as it was to finally be fucked, I was still scared and very leery of it.

She was more versatile with having sex than Jillian was, but I would still say she was more the receiver than the giver. In all, it was just rather disappointing in the aspect that I had decided to try and date another Transgendered woman, only to be disappointed when it was time for me to get fucked. Don’t get me wrong, the experience was fascinating and the oral sex was always phenomenal, but I just felt that if I was going to lead a different lifestyle, I needed more than the “three-minute man,” and the occasional hookup.

As time went on with her, I began to think and feel that I would rather have dick than pussy. It wasn’t her specifically that made me feel that way. I just felt internally, that I wanted dick. I just felt more fascinated by it. I was excited about it. I felt at any given moment, I’d rather be hunched over or down on my knees giving head. Sucking on a hard cock, feeling it deep in my mouth, then eating pussy for the umpteenth time. It was on my mind constantly. Maybe it was the newness of it. The excitement of the secrecy of it. Or maybe because somewhere inside of me, I knew I wanted cock my whole life and just finally could accept it. Either way, I felt comfortable within myself to know I was leaning that way. In turn, I started switching all the dating site apps over to seeking men, versus women, to see if I got better responses, now that I had felt I was ready to come out. At least as Bi-Sexual.

I had come to accept it. In essence, I had been with Jillian for about 7 months sucking her dick and now sometime into Geenah, I was continuing to suck her dick, fucking her, and being fucked. I had become accustomed to reaching into my lover’s pants and finding a hard dick, sucking that dick, being penetrated by that dick, and penetrating someone with a dick. The more I got it, the more she ‘fed” me, the more I wanted it. In a host of ways, it was a very exhilarating, liberating situation.

I held fast still trying to build on things. I hung in there with all of it, hoping one day it would develop into more, to where we would be doing more relationship stuff together and I would be getting dick more frequently than every once and a while. I tried to appeal to her to the point I was texting her as often as I could without being a stalker. I was calling her. I did my best to please her sexually. I let her fuck me when she needed to and I’d fuck her when she wanted escort gebze it. She’d return the favor of course and a host of times she would initiate sex and suck me first, as if she was dying for cock herself.

One night, I went over by her and when we went into the bedroom, she stripped down to just her panties and cuddled up next to me. Sometime later, we were engaged into a hot 69 with her on top, while both of our mouths were full of each other’s hard cocks. We both got off orally swallowing each other’s cum, just cuddling after. But as I went to leave an hour later, we were kissing so heavily by her front door, and I got so aroused that I untied her robe belt, dropped to my knees, and gave her a second blow job right in her foyer, until she came down my throat.

I was trying to make sure she knew I was into her and wanted to move forward. That I wasn’t concerned she had a dick, versus a pussy and that I would be willing to live that lifestyle. As much as it might have scared me If she wanted to take a more proactive step, I was ready if she had.

However, months went by with the same repetitive every other week sexual experiences with her, with infrequent messages, lacking communication, and limited time together, leaving me with a longing and desire that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t fulfill.

I was fighting internal battles. I wanted dick. I wanted to be sucking it more frequently. I wanted a “boyfriend,” even though my rational cognitive thoughts were still wanting to be with women, or getting some pussy. I wanted to wake up next to my lover, dressed as a woman or not. Having tits or not, and seeing that cock lying between her legs. I needed dick inside of me more than just a few minutes, once in a great while. Especially considering I had taken steps to meet men now on dating sites, versus women. I was ready for that next step.

My anxiousness, heavy thoughts, and battles began to break me, I needed someone’s opinion. I mustered up the courage and contacted one of my long-time female friends asking her out to dinner to talk. During dinner, I nervously and embarrassingly admitted my recent homosexual experiences to her. I needed an opinion on this. I know she was shocked by my admittance, especially knowing how many women I had been with. But she recommended pushing for more time with Geenah and trying to develop things into a more productive, fulfilling relationship. Or, just finding a guy I was attracted to, instead of someone who looked like a woman, and truly trying the other side. It was a confusing time. One that led to a big heartache and my absolute reversal of who I chose to be with, in the form of something completely different. I’ll explain why.

As summer turned to fall and October came around, about 11 months into my “sexcapades” relationship with Geenah, I happened to be down in her area after running an errand and I decided I would surprise her and drive to her house. I had an urge to be with her. I had an urge to suck dick and maybe get fucked. In essence, I was horny and I wanted us to be taking care of each other. It was mid-afternoon when I pulled up at her house. It was a Sunday, so I figured she’d be home. I thought what a great surprise it would be for me to just go over and show her I wanted to see her. Perhaps put my heart on the line even more and talk to her about taking this forward…Well, that went sideways really quickly.

As I walked up the stairs to her door and rang the bell. I heard footsteps coming to the door. When The door popped open, I was greeted by a very dark-skinned, rather chunky, Indian man, dressed in raggedy shorts and a white wife-beater Dago-T, who looked at me like I had three heads.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Hi, is Bobby here?” I inquired.

I said, Bobby. I don’t know why I did, but it was the first name that came to mind. I believe psychology-wise, I immediately knew this was her man, and I – for some odd reason – didn’t want to get her in trouble, so I just spit out what my brain said too.

“Bobby? He asked.

“Bobby Jenkins,” I furthered. Throwing names out, from far, left field.

I started looking around, looking for the address of the building, pretending I was lost. I panicked because I knew at that second, in those milliseconds it takes your brain to accept stimulus, this was her actual partner. I wasn’t her boyfriend; or someone she was developing a relationship with. I was the side dish. The other man. And now, here I was, at her place, uninvited, standing at her door, while her boyfriend or fiancé (or whatever he was to her) was in her doorway.

“No, Bobby here.” He gargled out.

Just as he spoke again, I saw Geenah come into view behind him in the foyer. The same foyer, I had walked into at least 25 times, and the same foyer I sucked her dick in. I saw the panic in her eyes, the fear that her little charade was over. That ass-puckering moment you get when you are caught escort merter red-handed. Like a deer in the headlights look.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said angrily. “I must have the wrong building.”

I should have burned her. I should have said, “Hi Geenah, how are you?”

Let Mr. Indian man know that I knew his “woman” and I had been there before. Let him know, I had sucked her dick, and she had sucked mine. Let him know, I fucked her in the ass, on the couch in his front room. Let him know I had cum all over her face, and she had cum on mine. Let him know in detail the color and style of that second bedroom, where we had several nights of oral and anal sex in.

But I didn’t. I just played it off as if I had the wrong address, but as he turned to close the door, I took one very deep, angry look at Geenah, shook my head from side to side, as if to tell her, shame on you, and just walked away.

It all hit me as I walked down those stairs back to the street. No wonder I never got asked to spend the night. No wonder she rarely came by me. No wonder it was always the second bedroom, instead of the master. Perhaps she had a moment of a conscious where she couldn’t have fucked me on the same sheets, she fucked him. Perhaps if I had gone into the master bedroom, I would have seen men’s clothes, and men’s toiletries in the bathroom and would have quickly figured it out.

My heart sank. It really did. For 11 months now I had been trying to be with someone who had a dick who was “living as a woman.” Jumping through her hoops, barely being seen and heard only to swallow her load of cum, when she needed it. All while leaving women; or even men I could have been with, hanging for her cock. I was furious. My blood was boiling.

As I drove home, I was screaming aloud to no one in my car, directing my anger at her. Every emotion came out of me, like a bomb exploding. I wanted to turn around and go back. I wanted to call her until she answered and just screamed loud enough for him to hear it. I called my friend; I told her what happened. She listened to me vent. She calmed me down and reminded me that I had slept around quite a bit throughout my years. And I realized that!

But my defense to her was that even though I had slept with a host of women, I could justify my actions because I had not been with someone for 11 months. Not had someone throwing themselves at me to get my attention or try to develop a relationship with me, only for me to just use them. At least I wasn’t carrying on like that. I wasn’t making someone a side dish.

Moreover, and probably more importantly, none of those situations were in a gay or lesbian setting. I wasn’t fucking some guy and fucking with another. I, nor anyone I dated was amid deep feelings and thoughts about sleeping with the same sex. Changing teams, or coming out. No one got played, or forced into some threesome they weren’t interested in. I, like many others, was just sleeping with whom I could when I could. Big difference. At least in my opinion.

Either way, the thought of knowing that fat, ugly, nasty Indian man was hammering that ass, before or even after me, was more than nauseating. I was so furious at myself for spending months sucking on her dick developing a like for it more than I had ever imagined, and trying to accept who I was or what I wanted, only to find out I was just a play toy. That’s what busted my balls more than anything. It wasn’t that she had anyone else, who cares? It was that I was trying to switch teams, be her man, suck her dick, and be in a gay relationship, only to be played. SAD!

Some who read this may call it Karma. Or something I had coming because I had slept around. Maybe I wouldn’t disagree, but again, I justify my actions in the fact that I was rarely in an ongoing, continuing developing relationship. And apparently, Geenah wasn’t in one with me either.

I decided the best thing I could do was just take time off from dating. To just let the cards fall where they may. If I met someone, I had an interest in, man or woman, then great. But if not, then it would give me time to think and determine my future.

As for Geenah, I got one message a few days later apologizing, asking me to call her and let her explain who that guy was. I never gave her that chance. I didn’t care. I was of the mindset of Fuck You, and your games. I never answered her text, and she never texted again. So, I guess I knew….

I did see her one other time some years later at a mall around Christmas time. I tied to B-line the other way, but she saw me. As I stood there talking to her, I could see the wedding ring on her finger. I called her out for her bullshit back then. She admitted then that she had been cheating on him with me and tried to convince me, that she wanted more with me but needed his money and his paperwork to keep her here in the US. I didn’t buy it, and I didn’t care anymore.

I had just started my sexual experiences with John at that time and had just about come full circle as to dating men, versus women and she was a distant memory. I knew from day one of meeting John, that I had changed and he was, in all reality, the first guy I had an attraction to as I was still developing my lust for men.

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