Chapter 45 – Trixie likes pussy

Sleeping in on Saturday wasn’t to be since Grace was leaving for her business trip. Three days in Seattle with Darnell was a big deal even for two managers of a big corporation like K Edison Global, so Grace was taking it very seriously. I helped her pack the last few things and then after we were both ready, accompanied her down to the train station. Thankfully she didn’t have me go all the way to the airport with her.

When I get back to the apartment I quickly strip down and move into Grace’s room with her large mirror. I look at my new body part for a good hour and a half, trying to process it. Even knowing that it’s fake, I have a hard time not seeing it as a real woman’s pussy. I have to truly search to find the seams, and even then they could easily be mistaken for natural folds in my skin. They really did a masterful job in matching it with the contours, colors, and characteristics of my skin down there. The only thing that marked it as fake was when playing with it directly. The folds felt fleshy and were even warm, but they weren’t real. There was no ‘slipping into’ me down there as there was only just the smallest of holes where my pee would come out.

Worse than the realism of the prosthetic was the complete lack of sensation. A light touch on ‘my’ pussy didn’t register at all. Pressure and movement I could feel, but it came from the skin around my sensitive bits, and not on or from my sensitive bits. I received more pleasure running my fingernails over my thighs near my groin than by touching the pussy itself.

One benefit of seeing Suzy regularly was that she was teaching me how to deal with intrusive feelings. Frustration, anger, disappointment. Sure, she believed I was associating these with delays in my gender transition, but the tools she gave me weren’t specific to those problems. After getting dressed again I sit on the couch cross legged, I use my mantras to calm down and remain in the present. I don’t worry about the man I was or the woman everyone wants me to be, I simply accept the person that I am. When I’m calmer, I keep my eyes closed and look at what I can do about the prosthetic. Without my mind’s frantic side quests of ‘but what about this’ and ‘what about that’ scenarios, I’m able to clearly look through what’s possible, what I’d like to happen, what is reasonable to happen, and finally what will happen. I may not like the answer, but I do get a clear answer. I do nothing. The prosthetic can’t come off without sending up huge warning signals to Suzy, HR, and my insurance. It will be annoying and incredibly sexually frustrating, but it will at least be temporary. Just a few weeks.

When I’m finished and centered, I go about my relaxing Saturday by making a tasty lunch and setting myself up in front of the TV. After getting out of my own head and starting to enjoy myself, I’m returned to the present when the phone buzzes with Trixie calling. I briefly consider ghosting her since I can’t get any sexual release but decide that will be stupid in the long term. The damned prosthetic will be off eventually, and I’ll still want to date the hot chick when she has access to my junk later. In the meantime, being with her won’t be too different than being with Grace… me giving her orgasms and not getting any in return.

It turns out that Trixie’s boyfriend is away on business this weekend as well and she wants to get together for a rare Saturday night date. I abandon my Young Sheldon marathon and get spiffed up for a night out, which sadly isn’t too different than getting dressed for work.

When I meet Trixie at the club, we get right into having a good time. A couple shots and some time out on the dance floor precede us getting a table and catching up. It feels like forever since we’ve really talked and I tell her about the whole issue with Suzy, her recommendation to Sculpted Design, my consultation with Dr. Lockwood, the prosthetic, and even my night with Grace. I make sure my story covers the falsehood of my wanting a prosthetic and the truth of me being frustrated with the lack of sensation.

I’m surprised by Trixie’s compassionate reaction. “Oh, you poor baby, you finally get your dream, and you can’t celebrate it. Oh, that’s just awful!”

Trixie and I still have fun at the club, dancing and drinking most of the night away, before exiting together. We’re both a little tipsy as I start calling up an Uber when Trixie pushes my phone down and steps close to me. As she brushes the hair out of my face and stands close enough that her lovely perky breasts rub up against my lovely fake breasts, she smiles coyly and says with a sexy giggle, “You know, just because you can’t get pleasure like you’re used to doesn’t mean that you can’t, like, get sexual pleasure. Girls get pleasure all kinds of ways.”

Trixie leans in and gives me a soft lovely kiss before continuing, “If you’re game I could, like, show you!”

I won’t speak for all mankind, but there is no way I personally could deny the lovely and ultra sexy Trixie from ‘showing me’ how to have girly pleasure. I bring my phone up so we can both watch me cancel the Uber as I add my own giggle and say “Like, yeah! I’m all yours Trixie!”

When we stumble into Trixie’s apartment, she doesn’t waste any time and pulls us straight into the bedroom. She takes an immediate commanding role and starts kissing me as she knows I like and slowly takes off my boots and my dress. When she crouches down and makes a big showing of taking my panties off, she makes sure to kiss every part of my body from the waist down. But she doesn’t stop there and continues to pull off all my lingerie and even takes off my faja.

I feel more exposed in front of Trixie than I have ever before, realizing what an odd mixture I must look like to her. A pussy and fake breasts, but no real curves otherwise. It may be the first time I feel guilty for not being feminine enough. But Trixie surprises me as she kisses her way up my arm, shoulder, collarbone, neck, chin, and finally to my lips. She starts murmuring quietly how feminine I am. As is. She mentions my soft skin, my sexy voice, my physical size, my long legs, my small hands, my painted nails, my pretty face.

I close my eyes and nibble at my lip as Trixie continues using her hands, lips, and voice to remind me of all the feminine parts of me even without the faja or feminine clothes. On one level I can understand what she’s doing. She’s helping her friend, her trans girlfriend, feel good about who she is. Helping remind her just how feminine she already is without any help of clothes or fake body shapers. But on the other side of that coin is the fact that I want this all to be an act… and she’s now reminding me just how feminine I really am. How besides using fake nails and shaving my body hair away, I’m girly and sexy. I’m not a man.

And then, much like Suzy guides me though visualization exercise, Trixie starts describing me in various positions and places. She combines the reality of what we’ve explored together, the story of Paris that HR has me living, and the personal embellished details to that story that I’ve shared with her. How she finds me attractive. How men find me attractive. How Mal finds me attractive. How I’m good at licking her to orgasm and how much I enjoy doing so. How I’m good at sucking Mal to orgasm and how much I enjoy doing so. How I’m good at submitting to Grace and how much I enjoy doing so. How I tease the boys at work, how I inspire the girls in the secretarial pool.

All these realities, falsehoods, and bends of truth mix with Trixie’s sultry voice and erotic touches and kisses and start melding together. Yes, I like licking and pleasing Trixie. Yes, I like being Grace’s subby girl. Yes, I even like sucking off Mal. Real, falsehood, lie… all becoming true. All turning me on in a way that I haven’t been turned on before.

It’s no wonder that when Trixie gently pushes on my shoulders I willingly drop to my knees. I’m putty in her hands right now and I believe I’d do anything she even hints at. I let out a small whimper when she pulls my arms behind me and wraps what feels like a ribbon around my wrists. Another whimper escapes my lips when she adds a ribbon around my eyes, blindfolding me. Her whispered ‘Wait here’ leaves me trembling as I hear her quietly step out of the room.

Left to my own thoughts, without my eyes to show me the truth or deceive me, I can’t stop feeling the memory of Trixie’s kisses and touches, can’t stop imagining the picture of me that she painted. The sexy, feminine, girl crazy, boy crazy, flirting, sensual woman. I don’t hear Trixie come back into the room so when I feel something bump up against my lips I jerk backwards and away. Trixie’s hand on the back of my head stops me from moving further and encourages me to move forward again. Her comforting ‘Shh shh shh’ from above me stops me from locking my jaw shut and encourages me to accept the touch to my lips again.

As she moves the thing against my lips, I feel a tremble of pleasure travel down my spine and accept what I’ve heard before… that lips truly are an erogenous zone. I’d always just thought it was the act of kissing that was hot, but this touch to my lips feels erotic and sensual and pleasurable. When she nuzzles it between my lips, I follow her unspoken command and open my lips to her. Open my mouth.

For a split second I picture the item sliding into my mouth as a dildo. It would make sense with Trixie putting all of these parts of my ‘life’ together and how much I’ve talked about liking giving head. But that second doesn’t last as it touches my tongue and I can taste… banana? I smile around the piece of banana that Trixie pushes into my mouth, chewing it and licking my lips as I swallow it down.

Trixie repeats the motions, trailing something over my lips slowly and pleasurably before nudging my lips open and sliding it in, with various pieces of fruit. Strawberries, orange slices, peach portions, and even cherries. The last portion then comes as a surprise even though it’s where my mind initially went. Rubbing over my lips, nudging me open, accepting it sliding in only this time it keeps sliding in and tastes like… plastic?

As my lips curiously seal around the item I feel its texture slowly moving in. At the same time my tongue comes up to explore and soon the image fills my mind. This is the dildo I was afraid of at first. And with the feeling of both Trixie’s hands running through my hair, she must be wearing it as a strap on. She’s ‘letting’ me give her a blow job.

None of the sensual feelings Trixie has inspired have gone away. I still feel the pleasure from my lips, though they’re now wrapped around a fake cock. The tingling of my skin is still there. The taste of fruits is still in my mouth. The scent of both our arousals is still filling my nose. At the same time, I can feel my gorge rise. Just like the first few times I had to talk about performing oral on a man or going down on Mal, there’s a strong desire in me to reject this.

But I know I can’t. I’ve built this part of me, of Paris, up to Trixie so much that it’s a core identity. Paris gives head. Paris likes giving head. Sucking men off makes Paris feel good about herself, makes her feel feminine. Especially kneeling down with her man standing in front of her. If I act like this bothers me now, what will it say? It’ll say Paris has been lying to Trixie. And if I’m lying about that, then what else have I been lying about?

No, I’ve made this bed. Now I have to lay in it. I’ve written this story, now I have to live it.

For the next five years, or maybe it was only five minutes, but it felt like years, Trixie slowly works the dildo in and out of my mouth. I can tell that she’s into it as I hear her breathing, her moaning. She sounds turned on and like she’s really enjoying herself. I, for my part, just remain still and let it happen.

Finally, when Trixie has had enough of our faux blow job, she pulls it out of my mouth, and I hear the toy dopped to the floor. Trixie’s hands grip me under my arms and help me stand up. I’m on my feet only for a moment as she directs me to the bed and lays me on my belly. My first impression, that I’m going to end up face down between Trixie’s shapely thighs, is quickly nixed as she positions me over some kind of pillow that lifts my hips and presents my ass up in the air. With my arms still bound behind me I don’t have any leverage to shift or slide or change my position without throwing myself off the pillow, and Trixie’s hands on my hips and ass silently tell me to stay.

I jerk just a bit when I feel Trixie’s lips kiss my left ass cheek. With the faja on I’m not used to such subtle sensations back there, so it feels especially sensitive now. Slowly, I feel Trixie’s naked body cover mine as she kisses her way up my back. When she’s right next to my ear she whispers, “This is such a great position to get eaten out in. My boyfriend loves eating me out like this so much that he got me this pillow specifically for it. I, like, wanna share that with you, Paris!”

Happy with how I’m lying, blindfolded and arms still bound behind my back, she kisses her way back down my back, the combination of her lips and her nipples on my skin driving me nearly insane. Slowly she works herself between my legs and pushes them out wide, giving her room to lay between. When she’s finally low enough she grips and spreads my ass apart and without the barest hint of hesitation starts to lick and kiss and tongue my asshole, giving me an entirely new level of pleasure that I’ve never thought possible.