Tgirl in the Water

Tonight my friends brought me home a handsome ranger.  He's redeploying in 43 days.  He has tatoos, is my height, skinny, but with hard rounded muscles,  and now he's asleep on the recliner a foot away from me. He fell asleep after he came.  He didn't want to cuddle.
I'd been babysitting the child of the couple I lived with while they partied at a club I was banned from for being honest with their patrons prior to kissing but post dancefloor grindage.  It was me or the posse in the men's bathroom plotting on the transgirl at the straight bar.
They came home with Tim...Pellington? Worthington? I can't remember, he told before we had sex though. 
I had to work on him a bit.  My male roomate had whispered to him that I used to be a guy.  He wasn't regreting anything when he came in me later, maybe just after, but not then.  Then, he was just spasming away whatever hadn't let him sleep for days. 
I have a soft spot for warriors.  They like me for some reason. 
The first thing Tim said that acknowledged my existance was "who is this pretty friend on the couch i just made" after a good hour of ignoring me.  It was not long before my roomie interupted our flirting by whispering you know what into his ear.  I knew by the way Tim changed the topic away from him sucking my toes, which had come up somehow.  He had been peacocking for the hour he was ignoring me.
When my friends went to sleep, it took me 4 tries offering him a massage to get my hands on him, with me sitting indian style on the couch behind him for all of 30 seconds before my legs wrapped around him. 
It was not until I got to the scalp massage that he protested. You used to be a guy?  ...Are you still? I gave him no answer, and thought a moment.  Eventually, I spoke.  It's not fair for you to say that to me, because when you look at me or when i touch you, it's a girl you see in front of you doing it.  The kicker was showing him my tits.  Look at me, I said,  Lowering my top, looking back at him serenly.  He did. I sat there with my tits out and radiated my inner self out to him, and i wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to lay on top of me with his back towards me.  I soothed his head into laying back, resting against mine, and rubbed his chest, placing his hand on my lower thigh.  He carressed me, and tried to place my hand down his pants, but i couldn't reach.  I told him to lay facing away from him, and blew him.  He stopped me and told me to sit on it, so I did.  He pulled my top down so it was around my waist instead of hanging off my shoulders, and pulled me into a kiss minutes before he came.  My spit was the only lube we used. 

Transgirl Runaway

Let's have a toast for my transgirls
The ones struggling to hold on
Let's have a toast for my trap girls
The ones tryna stay so strong
Baby you'll find a man
Stay awake as long as you can

This one goes out to my transgirls
That need a man in they world
So don't sleep on us baby
Stay as long as you can

Don't sleep on us baby
Stay Awake
Don't sleep on us baby
Stay as long as you can

My heels are wooden with straps of brown leather that raise my 125 lbs. 5'10" and 3/4 inch frame to over 6 ft. 2.  The people stare in a good way.  The waitress does a double take, and I can't help but smile. You been here before? A couple times. Is that why everyone is looking at you? They are looking at me cuz I'm gorgeous, as I throw my gorgeous look across the table at my good old southern date.
When I'd hopped in his car, I buried my nose in my purse to make sure I had my keys, money, cellphone, and condoms.  A girl's gotta be prepared.  Sadly, I'd used my last droplet of lube on my trick hours earlier that day, a 70 year old grandfather of 3 who had managed to perfectly time his orgasm to mine, not to mention stay rock hard for the 5 minutes of pounding my contorted frame that it took to build toward our mutual release.  Good sex with a grandpa notwithstanding, that last drop's dispersal meant tonight would be a spit night, if it went there. Of course it would go there. I base my worth on the degree of men's sexual desire for me, despite being smart enough to measure the madness of that meter. You can't lie to your own self, but you can try. The chicken marsala was decent. Nothing about it was paticularly good, but I had been starving all day.  All of my money goes to rent, my cell phone bill, hormones, and pot; in that order. The only time I splurge on food is when I happen to have money, a ride, and my diaphragm becomes so weakened from my body breaking my muscle down for energy that it belabors my breathing and makes it manual, signaling that it's time to pig out.  Starvation is a horrible thing.  I've experienced it for the sake of my transition, and it has connected to me to the legions of the meek whom suffer breathing.  The most striking thing is the effects on your thought process.  See for yourself, but man's mechanisms evolved such that our minds flourish through the first vollies of hunger; as our bodies wring themselves out like sponges and just in time recompile our metabolisms to keep our brains sugared, and later ketoned.  An amazing thing happens at that point when our glucose reserves run dry: our brains start growing new connections that reattach past wirings to help us remember forgotten food sources and creativly seek out new ones.  It is this creative spark from starvation, and our ability to distrust the seen in favor of the unseen that bequethed this planet to us as our domain.  I have felt it making me loopy, but only after hours of it making me prescient and effective in actualizing the matter of my mind.  How clever the hand of God.  The mid tier butter wine sauce quenched my starvation response as my date watched me eat.  I should have known he was broke when he passed on ordering himself food.  What a sweetheart, going hungry to buy me on overpriced meal.  I would have been happy with McDonalds.  We put my 90% of what I ordered leftovers into boxes and we left.  He pinched my ass a little on the way out.  I didn't mind, I was starting to like this guy.

Transgirl To Earth

My bare feet sank into the warm wet soil as I walked out to his car with a note in my hand hidden behind the pack of ciggarettes he had left behind when my sister resolved to take him home and away from me.  I walked, the humid dirt congealing into mud between my toes, feeling every bit as sqiushy as my heart feels knowing I might never speak to him again if I don't get him this note.  We both sensed it earlier, that things between he and her may be shortly coming to an end.  I flagged them down and put the pack into his hand, note first.  My hand lingered over his as he felt the note and his mind understood what it was.  We felt the electricity break as our contact did, as if a circuit had been disconnected.  I walked back into the house, and no sooner had i sat upon the coach where we had spent hours getting to know each other than I heard his knock on the door.  I forgot something, he said, and held his own note out to me.  It was the same thing my note had been, his phone number.  He said he would text me when he got home, and left.  For the next 2 hours I bugged my friend Desi to death talking about him and telling her the details of the story thus far, and though she was slightly dissapointed in me for entertaining such thoughts about my sister's boyfriend, once she saw his picture, she didn't blame me.  Then he called.  Desi took her leave, and I was alone with him for the next 3 hours on the phone, in heaven, or at least on the road that leads there.  We talked about their problems.  She was lying to him over trivial things, and it was hurting him.  What was happening between us was still unspoken, is still unspoken, we just knew we had to stay in contact with each other even if they broke up.  We had each reacher the same conclusion independently and had obviously spent the previous day both thinking of how to pass our respective notes to the other without getting caught.  We talked about he and my sister some, but mostly we talked about us, how we loved spending time together and what we thought about each other.  He likes that I understand more things than many people he knows, and I like that he is one of the collest guys I have met in my life.  We touched on our mutual desire to hangout away from everyone else, and comandeered Desi's apartment as the place to do it.  We figurer out that we would like to live together and share a room and earn money by doing camshows, switching off on the camera, watching each other play sexy for our audience.  He offered to beat up the bouncer and owner of a bar that had banned me for being transgender and embarrasing too many of their patrons when they would hit on me and I would be up front with them.  All I needed was someone willing to stick up for me, I don't need him to actually do it.  I couldn't bare the risk of losing him.  I know that when desi takes me to pick him up and brings us to his place, that I'll put my feet up on his lap in the back seat, and that his hands will close around them and start caressing them.  I know that will be his way of saying yes, that he is attracted to me and that he does want me, and that later at desi's, we may end up having sex, and that on the way home, it will be my head laying on his shoulder, and his arms wrapped around me, and our lives as lovers will be underway.  I was wrong ahout him not being my future.  He is it.

Tgirl in the sky

I look out at all the vampires and the bright blue sky that keeps them not at bay. She walks along the inside. Her feelings don't break. She marks the spot where he lies.  As her heart shakes Today was a good day. My friend's boyfreind is in love with me.  And I really like him.  It really complicates things.  I know he's just dating her to be close to me at this point, and I don't want it to stop.  The night before last they had been fighting so he had been away all day.  Finally she went and got him, and when they arrived she went to sleep and he stayed up with me for the next two hours talking.  He made a date with me to wake up earlier than everyone the next morning so we could talk some more.  I woke up and there he was.  I sleep on the couch most nights.  I bunched my blanket up over my lap and stuffed it between my now naked legs that I lifted over my body to make room for him to sit down, then laid them down so that the toes of one foot pressed against his thigh and the other rested partially in his lap.  We talked for an hour before the next person woke up.  Our conversations were a delicate dance around the topic on the tip of both our tounges.  It's going to happen I fear, and I feel somewhat bad about it, but I want him something fierce.  I was trying to sleep before I started writing this, but I couldn't stop thinking about throwing my leg over this man and cuddling on his chest.  How can I feel guilty about the inevitable?  I'm not more beautiful than she is.  I'm just a sexy transgirl.  He's damn hot.  Crap.