Preparation and porn
November 18, 2014
Backstory: In April of last year I came out here as transgender, only two weeks after realizing it myself. Four weeks from today I go in for gender confirmation surgery, so supportive thoughts and prayers are appreciated. Meanwhile, these four short stories continue to overshare the very rapid changes in my life, and some unrelated experiences with my girlfriend.
I finally came out at work formally. After appearing on a panel to discuss transgender discrimination, it was obvious that I was completely out, so the next week I met with my Dean. He said he had no problem with however I wanted to identify, as long as my work was done well. He wasn’t shocked, and explained that ‘he had worked around a lot of musicians.’ People at work have been very supportive, and now I’m known there as Jennifer. (pause)
One evening as we snuggled in bed, my girlfriend started stroking my hair and face and body. Pure simple touch, tracing the features of my face, caressing my neck, petting my firm shoulders, circling my fledgling boobs. I finally made eye contact with her and saw her eyes gazing softly at me as she continued petting my body. (speed up) I caught myself running away mentally, I was thinking of anything but what I was experiencing in the moment. (slow down) I dragged myself to the present moment, and tried to open up to her, and found myself in inexplicable fear of staying present. I could not face being the only focal point of attention, being subjected to pure receiving of such simple sincere affection. How messed up is it that I only feel comfortable giving to another, and have trouble accepting the gift of pleasure? (pause)
I previously mentioned my girlfriend’s penchant for inappropriate pillowtalk, which has freed me to be equally politically incorrect. This makes for a dangerous combination, as the next two stories describe.
I had to stop taking hormones a month before surgery because they affect blood clotting. This will make me hormone-free, so my girlfriend logically concluded I should be organic and free range as well. This led her to the concept of the ‘free range tranny.’ Picture this Monty Python skit: (hushed British voiceover) Here we are in the plains near the Cherry Hill Mall, and we have finally found a flock of free range trannies. These appear to be females, as you can tell from their elegant plumage and because they spend most of their time playing with their breasts. Generally quite peaceful, almost placid, these free range trannies can become severely agitated by questions such as (hick voice) “Can I help you SIR?” or “Are you a boy or a girl?” (pause)
We were fucking happily one night. She was straddling my hips, focused on grinding her clit against me, searching intently for just the right angle for the most pleasure, when her red hair kept dangling in her face and distracting her. As she brushed it away for the third or fourth time, it became a comical distraction for both of us, and she mused that she needed a hair net to keep it out of the way. We had been discussing preferences in porn shortly before this encounter, and this, combined with the distraction, led us to imagine a severely underappreciated genre of porn. Lunch lady porn. Mercifully we did NOT compose a full story, but here are some lines to get you started. So to speak.
- “I didn’t have any money, but I already knew how *I* was going to pay for MY lunch.”
- “The sweat running down her face from the deep fryer was nowhere near as hot as she was going to be in a few minutes.”
- “I couldn’t wait to peel those beige support hose off her firm legs.”
- “As she licked the shaft of my cock, I tenderly tucked the stray strands of hair back into her hairnet.”
- “The slab of mystery meat hitting my tin plate sounded just like my hips slamming against her wet pussy.”
Thank you, and I apologize.