I had been watching her for at least twenty minutes, sitting alone at the bar.  Why?  The place was known as the best place to pick someone up.  Or be picked up.  She was clearly not with anybody and admittedly the place was not exactly crowded, but for someone looking like that not to be approached?

I was well out of my comfort zone.  Newly divorced, free at last.  I had been recommended that at this particular hotel, I was guaranteed to score.  I didn't want a pro, I had done that, I wanted casual, consensual sex for the first time in over twenty years.  Heart beating, I approached her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

I stammered.  She scrutinised me and said;

"White wine spritzer."

I waved for the waiter.  I was on the first rung of the ladder, now what?

"I'm Brian."

I said.

"Christine", she replied.  "But I prefer Chris."

"Are you staying here?"

I asked, feeling braver now.

"Yes," she replied.  "You?"

"No,"  I said.  "I just came in for a drink."

"And to see if you could pull."

Was I that obvious?  I owned up.  That's exactly what I wanted.

"Me too," she said.  "These businesses trips can get tedious."

She drained her glass and stood up, saying;

"Come on then."

I followed her to the lift.  She was a petite, slim blonde.  I couldn't believe my luck.  In her room, she put her arms around my neck and pulled me into a kiss, grinding her belly against my crutch.  She turned and said;

"Zip."

She stepped out of the dress.  She could also have stepped out of a men's magazine, lacy bra, matching knickers and, be still my heart, suspenders and stockings.  She unclipped and removed the bra to reveal small, perky, pink nippled tits.  She took my hands and placed one on each tit.  As I groped, she undid my belt and zip and pulled down both trousers and underpants.  Then she went to her knees and fed my straining cock into her mouth.

Oh my, this was way beyond expectations.  I had considered a pressure relief wank before leaving my flat, but decided against.  Now I regretted my decision, I was very close to coming.  I pulled her off and said;

"I want to lick you."

She laid back on the bed and raised her backside so that I could peel off her knickers.  A large, soft cock flopped out!  I recoiled.  She, (Or was it he?) grinned;

"Not what you were expecting?"

 I was speechless.  Eventually I managed to stammer an apology.  She seemed amused, saying;

"You approached me remember?  Are you going to run off with your tail between your legs, or do you want to see what there is in the minibar?"

It seemed rude to refuse.  She asked me if I had ever sucked a cock.  No.  Wasn't I curious?  I was.  What man isn't?  I had spent years making a bucket list of things to try when I was divorced.  Sucking a cock was on that list.

I suppose the divorce had been twenty years in the making, I had made my wife, now ex, pregnant the first time we fucked and had 'done the right thing'.

We were much too young and it soon became obvious that we were in a loveless marriage.  But she had twins, they were my responsibility.  We had agreed to remain married until they were able to support themselves.  In fact they had both won places at different universities.  We had a family meeting and decided that the time was right.  Right now.

So there it was, a cock for me to suck.  If I was brave enough.  And what better way to do it than if it was attached to an extremely attractive woman.  With tits!

"Try it," she urged.  "You might like it, I certainly do."

I removed the rest of my clothes, found a bottle of white in the minibar and filled two glasses.  She raised hers and said;

"To flexibility."

I couldn't bring myself to kiss her again, but her tits seemed tempting.  I sucked her nipples and reached down for her cock, it was hard.  I wanked it for a bit before plucking up the courage to take it into my mouth.  I closed my eyes and went for it.  It felt enormous.  I tried to do to it what I like done to mine and soon found a rhythm.  She approved.

"Oh you're good," she said.  Don't stop."

I knew she was coming, the thing that I most wanted but most dreaded.  A mouthful of spunk.  I had to do it, this might be my only chance.  In my imaginings, the spunk donor was usually a big hairy truck driver type, in a glory hole.  Chris was all woman, with one big extra.  I kept sucking.

I hadn't expected such volume, do I produce that much?  Spurt after powerful spurt blasted into my mouth.  I tried to swallow but there was too much, too fast.  It spilled out of my mouth, over my fingers, over her hairless balls, down her arse crack and was soaked up by the sheet.  It was warm, slightly salty and thick.  No, not thick, viscous.  Texture a bit like warm wallpaper paste.  I looked up at Chris.

"Is it what you expected."

She said.  I was not sure what I expected.  I had tried my own, this was similar but somehow creamier.

"It's a marmite thing," said Chris.  "I love it, the texture's like tapioca.  Would you like me to swallow yours now, or would you like to fuck me up the arse?  I like both"

Don't you just hate having to make decisions?  I had been sucked off, not by my wife, and had fucked arses,  again not my wife's, she would tolerate neither.  But none of my hired women had swallowed my cum.  Chris sensed my indecision and said;

"Both, if you think you're man enough."

"Arse," I said.  "Then the other if I can manage it."

She smiled and assumed the position.  It seemed so wrong, peachy arse, pucker winking invitingly, but instead of a cunt beneath it, a pair of balls and a now soft again cock.  I fitted a condom onto my definitely not soft cock, applied lubricant and positioned myself for entry.  Her arse accepted me without resistance but then seemed to tighten around my shaft.

It had to be the most extraordinary fuck of my life, I was able to reach forward and cup her tits as I pumped, or back and wank her now hard cock.  I could feel the rapid approach of my climax, so could she.

"Do me facing."

She said.  Reluctantly, I withdrew.  Chris turned over, raised her legs high and gripped her ankles.  What a sight, rigid cock, now with the foreskin pulled right back, and under her balls, a gaping arsehole, leaking lube.  I slid back in.  She wanked her cock as mine plundered her arse, then cried out as spunk shot from it onto her belly and tits.

"Pull your cock out when you come," she panted.  "Spray me with it."

I may have matched her own generous load with mine, but hers, remember, was her second coming.  She massaged the mixture into her body, she really did love it, and there was so much.  We had more wine.

"Do you think you can manage seconds."

She asked.

"With a little encouragement."

I replied.  She wriggled down and began to kiss and lick my cock, which soon responded.  She sucked my balls and then did something that I had never experienced, but was very much on my list, she rimmed my arse.  I could not believe how much pleasure it gave me, I groaned.

"Good isn't it?"

She husked, and then said;

"Shall I suck you off now, or may I fuck your arse?"

Oh yes please.  I had never been on the receiving end of anal, but recently I had bought a dildo.  Two actually.  The first was too small, so I bought a cock-sized one. I frequently wanked myself off in the shower with it pushed up my arse.  Did I want her to bugger me with a real one?  Oh yes please.

She positioned me on all fours, applied masses of lubricant and gently entered me.  I was amazed at how easily her condomed cock penetrated until I could feel her balls on mine.  My own cock had softened, not knowing what to expect, but it resumed full rigidity as she reamed my arse.  She reached round for it and as she fucked me, she wanked me.  I had what was perhaps the most powerful orgasm of my life.

I was exhausted, elated and confused.  All kinds of things were coursing through my mind.  I had just fucked, and been fucked by, another man.  What did that make me?  I dressed and thanked Chris for the evening.  We exchanged phone numbers even though I had no intention of calling her.  She insisted on kissing me goodbye.  I found a taxi and went back to my own lonely bed.

All through the following week, thoughts of what had happened distracted me from my work.  I knew gay couples of both sexes, I also knew of same gender partners who shared homes but not beds.  What could a relationship with a partner who was neither really one thing or the other be like?  The fact is that I was smitten by Chris, whether she was a he, or he was a she, a woman with a cock or a man with tits.  She was a man really, she didn't have a cunt.  How much would miss that 'deficiency'?  I called her.

She invited me to spend a weekend with her at her place.  I drove down.  She had a very nice flat about twenty miles north of London. We had dinner and then we had sex, taking it it turn to fuck each others arse.  Before breakfast we had sex again.  Saturday poured with rain, providing an opportunity to express my feelings.  She too, had experienced something more than simply sex, we had a connection.

I asked how she identified herself, as male or female.  She said that she had been a sickly child, to all appearances, a boy.  She was excused sports and other physical activities.  When her hormones began to pump, she found little interest in girls, when she masturbated, she thought of boys.  She hid her feelings right through university, dating both males and females but decided that she preferred males.

When she applied for her first job, she declined to reply to the gender question, but had attended the interview as a woman.  She was employed as a woman and had been female all her life since, implants provided the tits and hormone tablets provided smooth skin and lack of facial hair.  Only her parents and her doctor knew the truth.  Sex was limited to what she could get in transgender clubs, but with other trannies.  What she really wanted was a man.

Business trips provided opportunities, but she had occasionally been abused if her pickups didn't like the idea.  Mostly though, they ran for the door.  I kissed her, with affection, not a sexual kiss.  But of course it led to more sex.  She sucked me off and greedily gulped down my spunk.  I returned the favour.

Back home, I considered my options.  I was not unattractive, connecting with another woman was very much an option, I had not even tried online dating.  There was also commercial sex, always available but shallow and expensive.  Ironically, I often paid extra for anal.

Even so, it was preferable to my ex's idea of marital sex.  That had become limited to Saturday night sessions in missionary position.  Thinking back, it had never been much more that.  She would suck my cock, but only because her only orgasms were induced by my tongue.  I loved to lick her cunt, preferring it to kissing her mouth.  Sucking me was the price she had to pay, but she would not ever let me come in her mouth, let alone swallow and I had to finish myself by hand, she would not even wank me off.  Towards the end, I would wank myself off in bed as though she was not even there.

After a few more meetings with Chris, I asked my boss for a transfer to the London office and moved in with Chris.  We stopped using condoms.  I find the feeling, probably psychological, of being pumped full of your lovers spunk, quite exquisite.

That was almost two years ago and I am having second thoughts.  I still have strong feelings for Chris, but I am missing cunt.  I have her permission to visit parlours for what she can't give me, but I never have.  And I have never, would never, lick a cunt that could already have been fucked shortly before.

That's what I long for most, the sweel taste of cunt.