Femme Fatale

by Cal Y. Pygia

 

Derek sighed heavily, his eyes scanning the bank of security monitors, each of which showed a different view of Femme Fatale. A month ago, he'd taken the job as a security guard for the woman's clothing store because he needed the money and because he supposed that watching the store—or, more specifically, the ladies' dressing rooms—would provide him with the opportunity to ogle half-naked women. Unfortunately, for some reason, despite the store's stylish clothing, few women shopped at Femme Fatale. Derek's days were spent monitoring racks and shelves of skirts, blouses, panties, bras, shoes, bikinis, and other feminine attire, but in ogling very few women. Most of the ones who did enter one of the dressing rooms were unusually tall and, for the most part, rather ugly. They were also careful about undressing, so Derek caught precious few glimpses of topless tops or bottomless bottoms. The job, far from delivering the prurient excitement he'd hoped for, was boring in the extreme. Derek had decided that today would be his last. He needed a job, sure, but he didn't need this one. At the end of his shift, he'd inform Dell, the store's manager.

Having made up his mind to quit, Derek slumped in his seat. He had to watch the stupid store for only another hour; then, he was free.

Ten minutes later, he was almost asleep, when he caught sight of a fine-looking woman entering one of the dressing rooms, a thong bikini on a clothes hanger in hand.

She was unusually tall, like most of Femme Fatale's patrons, but she definitely wasn't ugly. Wavy blonde tresses cascaded over her delicate shoulders, to the middle of her sculpted back, and she had the deepest blue eyes Derek had ever seen. Her lips were as full and sensuous as her nose was petite. She had full, high, firm, round breasts, and he could see the nipples beneath the taut fabric of her tank top. Her pierced navel sported a small gold ring. She wore tight, low-riding jeans that dipped below her hips, showing her lower belly in front and the dimples in the small of her back behind. Just looking at this beautiful babe made Derek's cock hard. He unzipped himself, taking his stiff, swollen penis in his fist, and began to masturbate as he watched the customer undress, totally unaware that she was being observed over a closed-circuit television system.

She pulled her tiny tank top off, over her head, revealing a white brassiere trimmed in lavender lace and pink ribbons. She hung the top on a hook on the back of the dressing room door. Derek's cock became harder.

Kicking off her high heels, she unzipped her jeans, pushing them down, over her hips and her creamy, smooth thighs, past her knees, and down her calves, stepping out of the low-riders and hanging them beneath the top, on the same dressing room hook. She wore matching white panties, adorned with the same lavender lace and pink ribbons with which the bra was decorated. Derek's cock thickened.

Her hands tugged the panties down her long, sleek legs, and she stepped out of them, too. She was now completely naked. Her back was toward Derek, so he couldn't see her genitals. He wondered whether she was blonde below, as she was above. Maybe she kept her cunt shaved, he thought, the better to show the little cleft of her sex. His balls ached.

The gorgeous blonde strapped on the bikini top. Derek watched her slender fingers fasten the garment behind her back. Now, only her lovely ass remained bare. He wished she'd turn, so he could see her tits again and enjoy the sight of her cunt for the first time. Instead, she lifted a foot, stepping into the thong bottom. Then, she lifted her other leg, but lost her balance. She flung out her arms, managing to catch herself. However, in her struggle, she'd hopped a few steps, turning, so that she faced the camera, and Derek's eyes widened as, below the trim patch of blonde pubic hair, as downy as dandelion fuzz, he saw her tiny penis bob in front of the small, swaying bag of her scrotum. She wasn't a chick, Derek thought. She was a guy!

No, he corrected himself, she was a chick—a chick with a dick—the first transsexual Derek had ever seen, other than in a magazine or a video. A clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, oozed from the purple tip of his glans. Derek gripped his cock more tightly, and his fist began to pump up and down as he masturbated more vigorously. Since he'd first learned that such fabulous creatures as shemales existed, Derek had been obsessed with the androgynous creatures who were neither male nor female while being, at the same time, both. He'd longed to meet—or even see—one, but he'd had to content himself with photographs of them rather than with encountering a transsexual in the flesh—at least, he had until now.

His fist jerked up and down, pulling and pushing the taut flesh back and forth on the shaft of his stiff, hard penis as he admired the transsexual's full tits, round ass, and diminutive cock and balls. He imagined fucking her, fast and hard, in her magnificent derriere, sucking her soft, limp cock until it was firm enough to spurt her salty white seed into his hungry mouth, and having her take his own throbbing erection into the warm-soft-wetness of her mouth. In a moment, he'd lost control. Thighs shuddering, hips bucking, and cock straining, he spurted jet after jet of his thick, white semen onto the monitor, covering the transsexual in the hot-pink thong with wads of his semen so that the fluid trickled over her tits, ass, cock, balls, and legs. Hastily, he stood, yanking his pants up and zipping himself. He hurried from the back room, into the store.

Cindy, the sales clerk, looked surprised to see him, but Derek hardly noticed. His attention was on the beautiful transsexual who'd just purchased the hot-pink thong.

"This store is fantastic," she told Cindy, "and it has all the right sizes for taller girls like me."

"Femme Fatale caters to girls like you," Cindy said.

"That's why we don't get many genetic girls as customers. Unfortunately, we don't get all that many transsexuals, either. It looks like we may have to close."

"Why is that?"

Cindy shrugged. "We're new. We're also off the beaten track. I mean, this isn't exactly L. A."

"No, but it's close." She held out her hand. "I'm Daphne," she introduced herself.

Cindy shook her hand. "Cindy."

"Femme Fatale is too good a store to go out of business—and it won't, not after I write an article about it in my magazine."

"You're a publisher?"

Daphne nodded, smiling. "Transsexual Express. Have you read it?"

"Are you kidding? I'm a subscriber!"

Daphne gave Cindy an appraising look. "You?"

Cindy grinned. "Yes, I'm a transsexual, too."

Derek's cock was rising again. The front of his pants was bulging. He couldn't believe his ears! Cindy was a transsexual, too! He'd worked at Femme Fatale for an entire month and had never guessed the tall, pretty sales clerk was a shemale. He, who'd longed to meet a transsexual for years, had worked alongside one for the past four weeks and, today, he'd encountered a second, even lovelier one!

Daphne seemed to catch sight of Derek for the first time. She smiled at him, licking her lips. "Oooh! A handsome stud works here, too?"

Cindy introduced them.

"What are you two doing after work?" Daphne asked.

"Nothing that can't be put off," Cindy said.

"The same," Derek blurted.

"Why don't you stop by my place?" She wrote the address on the back of a Transsexual Express business card, handing it to Cindy. "We can work on the article about Femme Fatale— among other things."
"It's a date," Cindy agreed.

"Definitely," Derek seconded.

Daphne glanced down, at the erection that bulged in the front of Derek's pants. "Bring that with you," she suggested.


Daphne lived in an exclusive penthouse apartment that overlooked San Diego Bay. Everything was white—the walls; the ceilings; the wall-to-wall carpet that covered the floors in every room, except the two bathrooms, which were laid with white tile; the couches, chairs, and tables; the bedsteads and dressers; even the lamps and shades.

"Wow," Derek said.

"It looks like heaven," Cindy remarked.

Derek studied the framed covers of Transsexual Express that decorated one of the walls. Beautiful shemales smiled at him among titles that referred to the social, political, and sexual topics discussed within each issue. "Very impressive," he said.

"Thanks. Can I get you anything? A drink? Some refreshments? A blowjob?"

Cindy blushed. "I could use a little lip service."

Daphne smiled. "Why don't we take our clothes off and get comfortable."

Within minutes, they were all naked. Derek was erect. The girls, their own penises small, soft, and limp, grinned at his stiff, upright cock. "I'm glad to see you brought that with you, as I asked," Daphne quipped.

She led her guests into her boudoir, which was occupied by the biggest bed that Derek and Cindy had ever seen. It made a king-size look small by comparison. "That's some bed!" Derek declared.

"I had it custom made," Daphne confided. She climbed onto the gargantuan piece of furniture. "Won't you join me?" she invited, patting the mattress.

Cindy and Derek climbed aboard.

Cindy lay on her back. Daphne knelt between her parted knees, taking Cindy's small, soft penis into her mouth. Derek knelt behind Daphne, guiding his thick, hard cock into the cleavage between her round, smooth buttocks. As Daphne nursed Cindy's limp penis to erection, Derek slid his prick through the tight circle of Daphne's anus, shoving his hips forward steadily until his thick manhood filled her rectum.

As Cindy's prick thickened, lengthened, and swelled, Daphne began to bob her head up and down, in a slow, steady rhythm, pumping her rounded lips back and forth upon Cindy's saliva-glistening shaft. Cindy writhed on the bed, moaning with pleasure.

While Daphne sucked Cindy's cock, Derek began fucking Daphne's impaled ass with his own prick, driving the thick organ all the way into her bottom before withdrawing it until only the glans remained within the sphincter. He paused to enjoy the sensations that her frantically fluttering asshole created around the shaft of his penis before plunging his member back through the flexing ring of muscle, deep into her bowels. With each lunge, he drove his cock into her with increased force until he was pounding her ass hard, his belly thumping against the upper curves of her buttocks and his balls slapping against the lower cheeks, her own balls, and her perineum. Daphne, like Cindy, began to moan. Their soft grunts and groans inflamed Derek's passion, and he forced his cock into Daphne's ass as hard and fast as he could, assaulting her as if his erect penis were a battering ram by which he meant to rend her asunder.

Now that Cindy's little penis had stiffened and swelled to the point that it stood erect, Daphne licked and kissed and sucked on the diminutive member, working hard to keep the transsexual's manhood upright. Derek could hear occasional slurping sounds, which excited him and made him drive his prick still harder and faster than before, pounding his groin furiously against Daphne's skewered buttocks. He watched the sleek, round mounds flatten before each thrust and spring back as he momentarily retreated.

Their moans quickened in pace, even as they deepened in timbre, and Derek added his own grunts and sighs to the animalistic noises as he banged away at Daphne's ass. Finally, Cindy reached the point of no return, and a few feeble spurts of her opalescent semen oozed more than gushed from her cock. Daphne licked up every drop, enjoying the salty treat. Derek, likewise, attained orgasm. Waves of pleasure flooded his loins, and his cock strained inside Daphne's ass. Abruptly, his thick, warm seed flooded from his convulsing penis, filling Daphne's rectum. They collapsed upon the huge bed, panting, awash in their own and each other's sweat, Daphne's lips smeared with Cindy's semen, and her ass streaked with cream from Derek's balls.

After they'd rested, Daphne asked, "Who wants to do what to whom?" and they were soon sucking and fucking again, activities that they repeated throughout the evening and promised to repeat on a regular and continuous basis, as often as possible.


A month later, in his office at Femme Fatale, Derek, eyeing the monitor by which he maintained secret surveillance of the women's dressing room, watched one after another fabulously beautiful transsexual undress as she tried on an evening gown, pantsuit, dress, or other stylish garment. He grinned. It looked as though he wouldn't be giving his notice after all. Being a security guard for Femme Fatale had suddenly become a whole lot more exciting than it had been for the past month, now that Daphne's article had appeared in Transsexual Express and Femme Fatale was crowded wall-to-wall with beautiful shemales wanting to try on bras and panties, skirts and blouses, and jeans and bikinis. He watched the shemale he'd spied on in the dressing room walk out of the store, her tight ass swaying provocatively in her taut low-riders. He recalled the sight of her delightful derriere in the orange pink thong bottom, with the single, thin strap running upward, through her cleavage, to unite with the band around her waist, and his balls ached worse. His jutting cock had made the front of his pants a tent. He couldn't wait to see Daphne naked again, especially since the beautiful shemale was hot to suck and fuck.

 

Cindy smiled at his erection. "I have a break coming," she told him, "and I like cream in my coffee. Interested?"

"Lead the way," he said, grinning. Yes, sir, Derek told himself as he watched Cindy's ass swivel in her tight skirt, he was going to enjoy working here. He might not be promoted, but he was certain to get a raise every day!

  

  

  

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