The Best Policy

by Cal Y. Pygia

 

I didn't see her bracelet until she'd paid for her groceries, left the checkout line, and disappeared among the cars in the shopping mall's vast parking lot. I was about to run my ATM card through the slot in the machine when I noticed the glint. Diamonds. The narrow silver band was aglitter with them. Without a word, I picked up the bracelet and dropped it into the pocket of my sports jacket. The cashier hadn't seen a thing.

I didn't intend to keep it. I just didn't want to draw attention to my discovery, because the cashier—or her supervisor—might say that she was going to turn the item over to the police, but, instead, she might be tempted to keep it. I'm an automobile mechanic, not a jeweler, but something told me that this was no cheap imitation of a more expensive bracelet. This was real silver, studded with real diamonds' it would be worth thousands, maybe. I meant to see that it got back to the lovely lady who owned it.

And, let me tell you, the word "lovely" doesn't do justice to her! She has to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Her long blonde hair falls in thick curls to her dainty shoulders. Her breasts, although not as full as some women's, are firm, high, and tight. Her abdomen is slightly concave, and her rather boyish hips are a sharp contrast to the swelling curves of her beautiful bottom. Her long legs are smooth inside their sheer stockings.

As she exchanged a few polite comments with the cashier, deep dimples appeared in her sleek cheeks, and her full, sensuous mouth framed even, white teeth as she smiled. Her eyes were bright as a brilliant blue sky, and she smelled of roses.

The cashier handed me the receipt for my purchases. "Thanks for shopping at Food Fest."

Her voice brought me out of my reverie, and the vision of the lovely woman about whom I'd been thinking vanished. "You're welcome," I replied, hurrying from the checkout aisle.

Outside, I scanned the parking lot, but the bracelet's owner was nowhere in sight.

When I was safe inside my car, I took the bracelet from my pocket and examined its more closely. An inscription showed on the inside of the silver band: "Jaime. 702-207-0505. Reward." I had her name, her telephone number, and the promise of a reward.

Smiling, I flipped open my cell phone, punched in the digits of her number, and jabbed "TALK." A few moments later, "Connected" appeared on my phone's tiny monitor, and I heard her sweet, sultry voice.

"Hello?"

"I found your bracelet," I declared.

"My bracelet?" She sounded surprised. There was a pause, and then she confessed, alarmed, "I didn't know I'd lost it!"

"It's okay," I reassured her. "I found it."

"There's a reward," she assured me.

"I know." I hesitated before asking, my tone light, as if I were merely joking, "What is the reward, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Me."

 

I thought about her one-word answer to my question as I drove the few blocks to her condominium. Her unhesitating offer of herself as the reward for my return of her bracelet made me rock hard. However, as I gave her reply more consideration, my cock began to wilt. What kind of woman offered herself to a stranger? A whore. I felt disappointed. Jaime was the hottest woman I'd ever seen, but, if she was nothing more than a call girl, I wasn't sure I wanted to collect my reward. Hell, I might collect something else as well—something I wouldn't want—such as a venereal disease.

Then, another thought occurred to me. Maybe she'd been joking. That's it, I told myself. She'd merely been joking! The reward wouldn't be her; it would be her gratitude. All of her I'd get would be a peck of her lips against the stubble on my cheek and maybe a twenty dollar bill. She wasn't a whore; if anything, she was a comedienne. Suddenly, I felt better. Jaime was redeemed. Ironically, now that I knew she hadn't meant it literally when she'd said that she'd be my reward, my cock began to swell again. Now, I thought, it would have been fantastic to have had the "reward" she'd jokingly promised me. Of course, I knew there was no chance she'd meant any such thing. If anything, I might receive a kiss, a handshake, an expression of her thanks and, maybe, a few bucks. That's all.

A short drive led me to her place, and I stared in awe at the immense palace she called home. She lived at the top of a knoll through which a half-mile-long driveway, flanked by boxwoods and yews and junipers, climbed on its way toward her elegant stone mansion. She wasn't a prostitute, I knew, for not even the most wildly successful call girl could have afforded an estate like hers. For her to afford such a wonderful domain as this, she must be a multimillionaire!

Climbing out of my automobile, I rang her doorbell, and a portly butler bid me to come inside. "Madame is expecting you, sir," he said. "If I may show you the way?"

I was gawking at the hallway. A red carpet ran along the center of the marble floor, below immense cut-glass chandeliers, and past stained-glass windows, expensive oils in ornate frames, and burnished tables bearing china vases, jade lamps, and explosions of bright, cut flowers.

At an arched doorway, the butler stood aside, making a gesture to indicate that I should enter the room beyond, and I caught a glimpse of the lovely lady whose bracelet I bore within my jacket pocket. My breath hitched in my throat. She was every bit as gorgeous as she'd appeared the first time I'd had the exquisite pleasure of observing her surpassing beauty. From the silk-upholstered couch upon which she sat, wearing a quilted robe, surrounded by brocaded pillows in velvet and satin, she smiled her dazzling smile, looking genuinely glad to see me, as if I were a dear friend rather than a stranger, and invited me to join her. As I crossed the carpet, I hardly heard the words of the butler as he asked her whether there would be any further immediate need of his service.

"No, thank you, James," she replied. "I will ring if I need anything more."

"Very good, Madame."

I had the bracelet in my hand by the time I reached her couch. I held it out to her.

"Thank you, my dear sir," she said, taking the silver band. She drew it over her fingers and past her hand, securing the clasp when the bracelet was upon her wrist again, where it belonged. She turned her radiant smile upon me, and my heart melted. My cock began to stiffen as it swelled. "I am Jaime Hall," she introduced herself.

"Bill Smith," I managed to reply.

"I cannot thank you enough for returning this," she said, touching the bracelet. "It is not the monetary value—it is worth only fifty thousand dollars, after all—"

I nearly choked on the amount, but Jaime seemed not to notice my reaction.

"—it is its sentimental value that makes it priceless to me." She paused, seeming to look inside herself. "You see, my father gave me this bracelet, when I turned eighteen."

I smiled, nodding, as if I understood her words. "A birthday present," I said.

Her smile broadened, her eyes glittering. "A coming out present," she corrected me, "to wear on my debut."

"It's beautiful," I assured her. Before I could stop them, these words spilled from my mouth as well: "You're beautiful." I blushed fiercely at my forwardness.

However, she seemed unfazed by my familiarity. "Now, it is time for your reward," she said.

"Please, I don't want any money."

She smiled her dazzling smile. "It's not money I offer," she said. She pulled at the ends of the bow that secured the sash about her waist, and the front of her robe parted, showing her flawless flesh; her firm, round breasts; and the hollow of her silk-smooth belly. A glint of metal shone at her navel, and I saw that her belly button was pierced; she wore a simple silver pin through the punctured skin. Lower down, I glimpsed the pink lace and ribbons with which the waistband of her satin lavender panties was trimmed. "I'm your reward."

I gulped. "I don't understand."

She laughed. "Please, sit." She patted the couch cushion upon which she was seated.

I sat.

Her fingers touched my knee, trailing up, lightly, along the inside of my thigh. The heel of her hand bumped my balls. There was an obvious bulge in the crotch of my pants, the outline of my erection clearly visible beneath the taut fabric. Her dainty hand continued to trace the contour of my leg, sliding around the clump of my testicles and along the stiff, swollen column of flesh into which my straining cock had been transformed by the loveliness of her feminine face and form. The sharp, manicured nails lightly scratched my groin. When she spoke, her voice was husky with desire. "Let me reward you for your honesty. This bracelet means the world to me."

Her delicate fingers massaged my prick through my slacks, and I moaned.

She unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and I stood for a moment, kicking off my loafers, snatching off my socks, and removing my trousers and underpants. My stiff-standing cock pointed past my navel.

Jaime's hand closed upon the swollen shaft, giving it a tender, playful squeeze. "That's quite a specimen of manhood," she complimented me.

I knew she was flattering me, because, erect, my prick is only about five and a half inches long. Still, women have assured me, that's quite a mouthful. "Thanks."

Jaime shrugged out of her robe. Now, she wore only her pink-trimmed lavender panties. Rising, she knelt before me, taking my firm cock in the smooth, soft palm of her hand. "Let's put it to good use."

She bent low, her luscious lips parting around my member. I felt them slide down the length of my shaft. Her nose pressed against my pubic hair, her chin nestling against my balls. She'd taken the whole length of my cock into her mouth. It felt wonderful to have my manhood enveloped by the soft tissues of her inner cheeks and the curved trough of her tongue. As her fingers lightly cupped and squeezed my balls through the tightened flesh of my contracted scrotum, Jaime began to bob her head up and down. Her lips traveled back and forth along the length of my saliva-glistening cock.

"Ooohhh!" I moaned.

Her fingers curled tightly, making a firm fist around the lower portion of my penis. She stroked the taut flesh up and down on the stiff-standing member as she licked and kissed and sucked its purple plans with her lips and mouth.

"Aaahhh!" I groaned.

After a few more pumping strokes of her fist, she removed her hand from the shaft of my cock and, using only her mouth, fucked me fast and hard, driving the "O" of her rounded lips down upon the swollen organ before withdrawing momentarily so as to be able to plunge her face again into the tight curls of my pubic hair as she allowed my erection to fill her mouth and throat.

My prick, already stiff and swollen, became firmer. My balls, already high and tight inside my risen scrotum, rose still higher and closer as the taut purse drew tighter still. My knees quivered, and the muscles in my thighs twitched and jerked. Inside Jaime's warm, wet mouth, my erect penis strained and lurched. These stirring sensations—and the flood of pleasure that was building within my loins—told me that orgasm was not far away.

Apparently, Jaime, too, sensed the proximity of my ecstasy, for she let my cock slide free of her lips. Closing her dainty fist about my wet and shining organ, she squeezed the shaft firmly several times, a tactic that I had used myself on many occasions to slow the building crescendo of orgasm and prolong the rising climax of physical and emotional feelings that fast rose toward the point of no return. Her skill in controlling my passion were those of an expert. With several insistent squeezes of her fist, she signaled to my nervous system that it would be she who would determine when I came. My cock actually responded by softening a little! Never had I known a woman with such mastery of my manhood. She handled a cock as if she had one of her own. It was truly amazing that a woman could discern the passion building inside a man and retard its progress with a few short, decisive squeezes of her fist. Nevertheless, Jaime had accomplished no less a feat than this, and my penis had obeyed her silent commands.

Jaime smiled, satisfied at her success. "We don't want you to come too soon, do we?" she asked.

I made no reply, understanding her question to have been rhetorical.

She pulled upon my cock. "Slide forward," she commanded, "to the edge of the cushion."

I did as I'd been bidden, scooting my bare ass over the silk upholstery until my buttocks were poised upon the edge of the couch.

Leaning forward again, Jaime pressed her cleavage against my penis so that my cock lay—or stood—between the satin-smooth mounds of her breasts. Cupping these perfect globes in her hands, she pushed them together, so that the trough between them vanished and all I felt about and along the shaft of my prick were the sleek cushions of her beautiful boobs. She jiggled her upper body, moving her chest up and down. Her breasts pumped themselves back and forth against and along my cock. As she fucked me with her tits, Jaime moved the fabulous orbs in her clutching hands, shaking and bouncing and compressing them about my trapped penis. Once again, my cock was rock hard; it lurched and strained between her soft-firm breasts, not only wanting, but needing, the sweet, sudden, powerful; release of orgasm and ejaculation.

It seemed that Jaime, once more, had somehow monitored the level of my physical arousal. Abruptly, she leaned back, straightening her spine as she withdrew her tits from my cock. I must have looked puzzled, because she said, "I want you to finish in my ass."

She stood, her back toward me, and I watched as she tucked her thumbs under the sides of her ribbon-and-lace-festooned panties' waistband, easing the silk undergarment down her lean thighs, past the hollows of her knees, and over her smooth, shapely calves. She stepped out of the pink-trimmed lavender panties, leaving them on the carpeted floor. Her ass was the most beautiful I had ever seen. The hemispheres of her buttocks were smooth and firm. I placed my hands upon their sleek contours, letting them follow the sloping curves around her hips and across the undersides of her glorious backside. The cushiony mounds were soft without being flabby and smooth as porcelain but, of course, warm with the blood of life. I could have held them forever without tiring of their buoyant weight or their sleek feel. Jaime's splendid ass, like her beautiful boobs, put other women's charms to shame. She was as superior to other females in her physical attributes as she was superior to them in her lovemaking skills. To see her bare ass was to want, beyond all things, to fuck it, and, most desperately, I wanted to plunge my manhood into the snug opening between her ass cheeks and shag her as hard and long as I had the strength and stamina to endure such a wonderfully pleasant enterprise.

As before, Jaime took the initiative, settling back, her thighs parted over mine and

her precious rump seated in my lap, my cock up her ass. It felt wonderful to feel my stiff, swollen member slide past the velvet-soft cheeks of her soft-firm buttocks, through the small, tight opening of her anus, and deep into the bowels of her ass. Then, after pausing to reflect upon the sensation of having her bottom crammed full of thick, hard cock, she lifted her derriere, leaning forward, and let her impaled anus slide back down, around the shaft that speared it. Up and down, she lifted her skewered ass, allowing my cock to plunge home again and again, all the way to the balls, increasing the tempo and the force with which she drove and lifted her backside. It was heaven to have my erect prick inside her anal passageway. I wanted her to enjoy this moment as much as I was enjoying it, and I reached around her thin waist, toward her genitals, intending to pleasure her as she was pleasuring me, by fondling and caressing her cunt and clitoris. She tensed, sitting bolt upright, and her hand seized my wrist, flinging my questing hand away from her groin.

Concerned, I asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. After a moment's pause, she added, "I just want you to focus on yourself."

"I can focus on myself while I masturbate you," I replied.

"No" is all she said.

I shrugged. If she didn't want my attentions, I wasn't going to force them upon her. It was more than enough for me to enjoy the delightful sensations of her riding my cock with her asshole.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on just my cock and balls and the snug, sliding feel of her anus as it dropped and rose upon the shaft of my prick. Again and again, the tight circle of her sphincter lowered itself around my cock, rose along its rigid length, and descended again, repeating the up-and-down cycle of its motion as efficiently as if it were a mechanical ring that worked according to the mindless, automatic efficiency of machine. The regular, insistent sensations of having my cock stroked by Jaime's relentlessly thrusting-pulling anus increased the fluttery, tickling feelings in my genitals and groin, and I knew that, once again, I was near orgasm. My balls were high inside my tight, risen scrotum, and my penis seemed to pulse inside Jaime's rectum. Any moment, I thought, I would lose control and begin to spew my semen deep into her bowels.

Once again, wanting her to share my passion, I reached around her waist; once again—this time, silently—I was rebuffed as my hand was caught in hers and tossed aside.

I opened my eyes, watching her beautiful buttocks dimple and contract as she lifted her ass, allowing my stiff, hard cock to slide free of her rectum. Then, the dimples vanished as her ass cheeks, relaxing, lowered again upon my stiff-standing prick, and my rigid organ once again vanished within the circle of her anus to slide deep into her rectum. I watched my member vanish and reappear again and again between her sleek, round buttocks, and my balls began to ache, just as my prick began to jerk and thrash within her anal-rectal embrace. Then, orgasm seized me, and my convulsing cock spurted jet after thick, warm jet of my warm, sticky seed into Jaime's depths. I moaned again, lifting my hips to jam my cum-spewing prick as far into my lover's ass as possible, and surrendered my consciousness to the overpowering sensations that swept through me like a fire or a flood, feeling only my lurching, straining penis inside Jaime's rising-falling buttocks, and the semen that surged in gushing spurts from the depths my seemingly imploding balls. I could not help myself. Although I'd twice been denied access to Jaime's genitals, I sought them again, and, this time, was allowed to touch her private parts.

My brows knitted in confusion. I'd assumed I'd make contact with a sopping wet cunt and the hard nub of an erect clit; instead, what my fingers found was a cock, stiff and swollen like my own, and a pair of balls inside the tight pouch of a smooth-skinned scrotum. Despite her fabulous face; her beautiful breasts; her narrow, feminine tummy; her long, shapely legs; and her gorgeous fanny, Jaime Hall was equipped with a cock and a pair of balls rather than a pussy! She was a he!

"What the hell?" I mumbled, shocked but not outraged. I snatched my fingers away, and looked at them. They were smeared with the thick, warm, wet, sticky semen that my lover's own intense passion had produced. I had a man's cum on my fingers!

I knew that I should be disgusted, but I wasn't. I should be angry, but I wasn't. I should be shocked and horrified. Instead, I was excited. I was charmed. I was delighted. I put my fingertips to my lips. I tasted the nectar of her loins. It was salty. It was delicious. I licked her semen from my fingers, tasting it again and again, until there was no more of this food of the gods to sample. Greedy, I was disappointed that there was no more to taste.

Jaime remained seated upon my lap as my cock dwindled inside her rectum and eased out of her asshole, trailing the last drops of my semen between her butt cheeks. "What do you think of me, now that you know my secret?" she asked me. Her voice was soft and tentative.

"The same as before," I admitted. "You're beautiful, sexy, and more feminine than most women I've known or met."

"My father didn't think so," she confessed, "not at first. He thought me a freak of nature, a perversion and a fraud. But I had to take hormones. I had to undergo electrolysis. I had to have surgery. I had to have breasts. I had to become who I am inside. I had to be a woman—in all details except my genitals. Strangely, I could not bring myself to part with my penis or my testicles. Later, I learned that many transgendered people decide to retain the genitals with which they were born. I guess I'm more of a hermaphrodite than a total transsexual, if that makes any sense. Anyway, eventually, Daddy got used to the idea that her son, James, was born to be his daughter, Jaime. When I turned sixteen, he flew me to Europe, so that I could begin my transformation. Two years later, I returned here, to his home, and he gave me the bracelet that you returned to me to mark the occasion of my coming out party. That's why it means so much to me. It's my father's expression of acceptance and love."

"I'm glad I found it," I replied.

"I'm glad you returned it."

As my fingers toyed with her sperm-slick dick, I kissed the side of her neck, through her thick, radiant blonde curls, my other hand cupping one of her splendid breasts. "Me, too," I said. Both her cock and her nipples began to stiffen and swell, as did my manhood. "Honesty really is the best policy."

  

  

  

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