The Fifty-Cal Gal

The street lights shine dimly over the long concrete roads that lead to fairly sized hotel complex. Cars come and go, while some sit in the parking lot for who knows how long as their owner lounges up in the tower floors of the hotel's tower. Patrons, guests, workers and inhabitants shuffle in and out the glass doors with various gaits. Some refined and hasty, others drunk and stumbling.

Save for me, a man named Traci who simply stood there in irritation.

"Where is she? She's really late." I muttered, glancing around nervously. "Damn it, Brenda! I knew I should've asked Ken, he's much more reliable."

I was a young man of 21. However, you'd never know just by looking at me. I'm short, around 5'2" even with my mat-black platform boots. Petite, yet also curvaceous and womanly. An hour-glass figure with wide hips and slender legs. No tits to speak of, naturally, but I made up for that with a plump bubble-butt and round feminine face that could fool anyone even without make-up thanks to fairly plump lips, long eyelashes and suggestively thin brown eyes.

I hadn't taken full advantage of my shapely body, as I was clad in relatively mute and tamed street clothes. A plain long sleeve shirt, a pair of knee-length denim pants. A hoodie tied around my waist. My hair was even short. Brown at the roots but that faded into a bright blonde. Arguably the only girly accoutrements I sported were two diamond earrings, and even then they were rather subtle in their presentation.

"God damn it!" I stomp my boot upon the concrete while tossing my phone into my handbag. "Never gonna ask Brenda for a ride again."

Just as I have my outburst, a car pulls up to my side. The window rolls down, and a woman sighs as I enter the car.

"You're almost and hour late, Brenda! I could've been or something, you know?"

"Not now, Traci. Not in the mood. Work was hell and my head hurts."

I scowl and huff as I lay back into my seat. The next few minutes of the ride home were cloaked in silence. The song on the radio was drowned out by the thoughts and pondering of the two occupants, and not a word was uttered between us.

Brenda pulled into a metropolitan area that was on the way home, but I didn't recognize the area. I glanced around, noting how shady this part of town seemed. Neon signs of all sorts, from ones that simply say 'open' to ones displaying the silhouettes of naked women.

"Are we even going the right way, Brenda?" I asked with a somewhat commanding and combative tone.

"Yes, Traci, yes, we are. This way's quicker. I know my way home." A pugnacious response from Brenda. Tensions were starting to rise. Both of us being headstrong and proud individuals, the exchange became heated as the car joined a line of automobiles halted at the scene of a fender-bender.

"Motherfucker! Just what I need." Brenda exclaimed, slapping her steering wheel.

"Maybe you should've got here sooner. Could've avoided this!" I smugly chided the driver while looking out the window towards all the sinful establishments.

Brenda had enough.

"Get out." She commanded.

"What? No, you're my ri-"

"Get the fuck out." Her voice raised from stern to severe in tone.

"Haha, yeah whatever." I laughed her words off.

Brenda crafted an ugly, furious frown before grabbing my hand bag and tossing it out the passenger window.

"Hey, what the fuck?" I exclaimed, rushing out of the car to retrieve my bag. When I turned around to return to the car, Brenda began to speed away. She took an alternate route to bypass the crash. The clop of her wheels and the roar of her engine faded into the distance.

All I could do was curse and raise my arms in defeat.

I gathered up my things, and much to my dismay I found that my phone was utterly destroyed. The screen was cracked, and the power button failed to activate the device.

"Un. Fucking. Believable." The words shot out of my mouth. I trample out of the road and onto a curb where a row of shops were plotted. She had left me in a particularly shady and conspicuous part of town.

The Red Light district.

Of course, its not actually called that. I forgot the name of the area, but that's what it was called collectively by both guests and co-workers of the hotel I worked at. A long strip with almost a mile of nothing but stores and establishments promoting and exploiting the base desires of the human body.

Signs displaying naked women and men were plastered everywhere. They advertised strip-clubs, porn-theaters and topless taverns among other things.

I sighed. This is definitely not somewhere I should be. I sat down upon the faintly lit bus-stop bench seat. A couple people standing nearby gave me a few lustful stares. Their eyes scanning over my young, plump body. Even through my clothes, one could see my feminine curves.

"Hey there, pretty young th'ang." One of them asks and brushes her hand over her bright green high-fade side mohawk. "Dayum... how'd you like to come home with us?" Another asks, jostling his bulge around behind a pair of hilariously tattered denim jeans.

I gulp in apprehension, clutching my hand bag close and scooting away while formulating an excuse. "Thanks, but I've got a date."

The woman traces the hem of her fluorescent pink booty shorts with her thumbs. "Doesn't look like they're here to me." The man then speaks. "Methinks he stood you up. Cute little things like you deserve better." The two close in, now sitting on either side of me. Both of the strangers shift their garments in such a way that both their penises effortlessly flop out.

Wait... both? One of them is a girl though. She looks like one, at least. Don’t tell me that she is actually a… “I-I’m a guy, you know!” I blurt out my last ditch effort fend off these rascals. I knew, subconsciously, that such an admission would do nothing. And sure enough...

"Don't matter to me, long as you got that fine ass." The male uttered to me. I was to frightened to be flattered. "We'll fuck you good regardless." The woman cooed. They inched closer to me! I began to sweat! What do I do?

"Stop."

A third voice commanded. It was stern and dominate, yet also feminine and calming. I look to see the owner of that word. What met my retinas was astounding.

A tall, dark-skinned bomb-shell of a woman. Medium-length blonde hair that framed her soft, gentle blue eyes. I was awestruck. And she wasn't dressed like these other two. She had class. A lengthy oriental dress with floral patterns atop jade green silk. She looked like royalty. She even had a squad of beefy bouncers backing her up.

"Shit, it's the queen and her babysitters. Let's bounce." The two harassers scoffed and backed off, tucking their dicks back into their pathetic excuses for pants. "Pfft, whatever. Twink's probably got some kinda disease anyway." The man's ruffian companion adds her comment.

"Repulsive thugs, forcing themselves on strangers." The 'queen' derided before turning to me with a smile. "Are you alright there, dear?"

I nod slowly then quickly, the realization of what occurred hadn't completely settled in. "Yes, ma'am, they didn't do anything too bad." I rub my shoulder and grasp at my handbag. "Thank you."

"That's good to hear, and you're very welcome." The woman snaps her fingers. "Andrew." And one of her bodyguards hands her a piece of paper, which she hands to me. An advert for a strip-club show? In big bold letters, it red:

"Lashona Barrett! The 50-Cal Gal! The sexiest woman on the entire Freeview Red Light Strip! Limited time offer, 50% off admission prices. from 4/10 to 5/10 starting at 11:00 pm every weekend! Only at the Smoking Barrel venue on Freeview Rd and 34th!"

Various effects and fonts littered the flyer page, but all of it took a back-seat to a large photo of this woman in front of me laying in bed with her body completely exposed, save for her crotch which was obscured by what appears to be a massive sniper rifle. Along with this flyer, she provided me an exclusive 100% discount voucher!

"Please, take this. It's a voucher for my show. Allow me to apologize on the behalf of those two hooligans." This gorgeous, kind woman spoke in a husky voice that danced in my eardrums.

"T-thank you!" I exclaimed in delight. I didn't really know why, though. It was voucher for a strip show. I've never been to one, and I've never really been into that sort of thing. But I suppose it was just the fact that it was a gift from such a beautiful woman.

"Hmm... you're pretty cute. Mind if I know your name?"

"T-Traci. Traci Smithings, and... thanks again." I begin to blush, if I hadn't already long since started. "You probably gathered who I am." She offers an affectionate, almost benevolent smile. I nod. The image on the flyer was a definite match.

"Again, sorry for the discomfort they caused you. Do consider coming to my show at the Smoking Barrel, though. I promise all that fear will fade away."

I sat there dumbfounded, elated and frankly honored. I contemplated whether or not I should utilize this free voucher. It's a 100% discount ticket! To a strip-show... all about that beautiful woman! Not mention, the drinks are free if this voucher is to be believed.

I was just about to punch the address into my phone before I remembered it was completely smashed. I return to a sour mood until I see the very venue the she was listed to appear. The Smoking Barrel Strip Club and Bar.

I dump any second thoughts and doubts out of my brain and eagerly trot over to the place. A buff, bald bouncer stops me, but after showing the signed discount voucher he holds the door open for me and offers a smile. "Enjoy the show, beautiful." I smile back, albeit nervously.

I clench onto my purse, swimming through the ocean of people. Music and lights blare loudly and intensely. Good thing I don't have epilepsy, or this would be hell. I see an electric clock on the wall, which proclaims the time to be 10:53 pm. Good, I haven't missed it.

I look around anxiously and stuff the flyer and voucher into my handbag before hitting the bar. The tender there was a fit lad with nary an article of clothing save for some detached cuff-links and collar with a black tie riding the length of his midsection.

"What can I get for ya', beautiful?"

I stammered. I was still dressed modestly, yet he had no shirt, no coat. Almost nothing. I'm willing to bet he wasn't even wearing underwear behind that counter.

"S-something light." I respond. I wasn't much of a drinker, I only came to the bar to sit down, since the path to the front row seats near the cat-walk was blocked by eager viewers. He winks at me and leaves to fetch a drink.

After he returns he points to the catwalk and the sturdy metal stripper poles protruding from it. "Shows about to start, but not just any show. Lashona Barrett."

"The Fifty-Cal Gal." I finish for him unintentionally. "S-sorry."

"No worries. First time here? I don't recognize you."

I nod. "Yeah. First time in this part of town."

"Glad to have you here. You're in for a treat. Know why they call her the Fifty-Cal Gal?"

He points to Lashona as she emerges from a curtain, clad in the same attire she met me in. Although now she's sporting some serious bling. Rings, necklaces, bracelets... all kinds of shiny, gold jewelry.

Some intense, jazzy song begins to play as she struts along the length of the catwalk. One long dark leg in front of the other, she slowly approaches the pole. She begins to gradually unequip her accoutrements and toss them into the crowd. Finger by finger, rings fly into the crowd. One is even sent my way!

I react too late, but the bartender catches it and offers it to me.

On closer inspection the ring had a gun motif, etchings of bullets inscribed into its length. Topping the ring was a large diamond, about the size of a pinky fingernail. The gold of the ring coiled around the diamond with the shape of a rose vines. "Oh my, this one's got a diamond. You're a lucky one." I offer him a confused visage before my attention turns back to Lashona.

She offers the last and heaviest piece of jewelry, a wildly intricate and ornate necklace to a bouncer who she winks at. Now, she finally approaches the pole, casting aside her boa scarf.

"That's why they call her the Fifty-Cal Gal." The bartender proclaims just as Lashona tears off her dress and reveals a huge, dangling cock that just bursts out of her undergarments! An exotic caramel hue just like the rest of her body. The crowd within the establishment cheers, whistles, screams and waves their hands in excitement.

She swirls and waltzes around the pole with unspeakable beauty and grace. Not a single step was not masterfully deliberate and artfully planned. I couldn't look away. She rubs that giant shaft of hers against the pole, then sandwiches it in-between her tits.

She even manages to pull off an amazing triple spin with only her hands upon the pole, and lands perfectly upon her feet! It was evident she was enjoying herself. Even from here, I could see her skin glisten with sweat, and her wildly erect 8-incher pulse and throb in jubilation.

She hotdogs her cheeks between the pole, jerking the steel rod off with her plump jiggling ass. Crouching up and down to cover as much ground as she could while slowly pumping her shaft at a similar pace. All the while this was going on, her husky, melodic voice teased and encouraged the audience, shamelessly accentuating incredibly lewd acts that claimed to have wanted to do with the crowd.

Wads of dollar bills flew onto the catwalk. Every so often, she stuffed a dollar into her g-string panties, often placing it where her underwear cradled her balls.

I sat there, staring for god knows how long until the show sadly ended. Drunk and elated guests alike either exited the building or sauntered over to the bar. I snapped back into consciousness once the bartender began to tap my shoulder.

"You got a diamond in yours. That's a special invite. A private dance." He winked at me again and recommended I capitalize on this opportunity.

Without a second thought, I rose up and made my way to the nearest bouncer and showed him that I had received a diamond ring from Lashona. After a quick and concise "Follow me," he led me to a back-stage room with a door labeled 'VIP Lashona' and knocked on the door.

My heart raced, my asshole puckered, my tiny little cock stiffened. Many things in my body clenched in anticipation.

"Come in."

And so I did.

There she was. Lashona Barrett. The Fifty-Cal Gal. Alone in her dressing room. Naked and sitting upon a fancy square couch. Her dressing room was dimly lit, only a bit brighter than the strip-club main space, but it was nonetheless clean and sleek. Truly a room for royalty.

"My my, what luck you have. Traci, I believe it was." She grins, one leg resting over the other. Thanks to that, her penis was obscured. Not that I cared, or anything. I did care, actually. I wanted to see it. I wanted to do more than just see it.

"Lock the door behind him. Make sure no one disturbs us." She issues this order to her bodyguards, but in a mellow respectful tone.

"Yeah, i-its me." I weakly confirm her guess as she beckons me closer. Eventually I end up sitting right next to her. Even sitting down, she almost towers over me. I have to look up at her to see her gorgeous face. I get a closer look at her fit but not unshapely body. Her tits were huge, and her perky pink nipples stiffened in the cool air. Although, I doubt they were the only stiff things present.

"Did you enjoy my show, Traci?" She asked, tilting her body toward me slightly and resting a hand on my thigh.

"Yes! It was wonderful... I mean you were wonderful! I couldn't look away."

"Ho, you flatter me, Traci. I have to admit, though, I can say the same about you." She holds my smooth pale chin her tender mocha palm. My heart beats like crazy!

"R-really?"

"Yep. You were the cutest man in that club. The cutest boy I've ever met. I just had to get closer."

My eyes widen in surprise and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. "How'd you know... that I'm a guy?"

"I heard you say that to those two thugs earlier. Plus..." Lashona points to the tent forming in my shorts. Well that answers that. I want to continue this, but I have no idea what to say or how to entice her. Lashona already has that covered, however, and sticks her tongue into my mouth. I squirm in surprise, but not resistance.

I only just met this woman, but every cell of my body is rejoicing from this kiss, and yearning for even more. I reach for her shaft and grip it tightly. I wasn't completely inexperienced, but I wasn't proficient. The most I've done was jacking off Brenda's brother Ken in the college dorms a few weeks back... but his cock wasn't as big as Lashona's! She was at least eight and half inches long and almost two inches thick! It was monstrous!

She hummed into the kiss before it got sloppy. Drool escaped our lips and we both gasped for air whenever an opening made itself known. I drew off of our kiss. I couldn't take it any longer. I wanted her inside me.

"Lashona...! I... I want your cock!" I beg to her, hoping for the sweet nirvana of her turgid chocolate rod. I was utterly elated when she obliged me.

"As you wish." She whispered into my ear before gently pushing me onto my back and stripping me of my clothes.

First, my shirt. Then, my pants and hoodie which had been tied around my waist. My socks, shoes and then finally undergarments. She stopped there, however, and simply pulled them to the side to free my little prick. "Oh my... hiding something so cute under such mundane clothing..."

Holy shit.

I just now remembered that I had nabbed one of Brenda's pairs of panties and wore them to work! How in god's name did I forget? Pink lace panties that were modeled after the bottom piece of a micro bikini! I can't even remember why I put them on!

But... Lashona seems to like them, so... it can't be all bad, right?

"Might you be into cross-dressing, Traci?" She inquires. I lay there on my back, a bit confused. I'd be lying if I said wearing women's underwear wasn't thrilling, and that the fabric didn't feel good against my skin. Maybe... I was? "I... I think I may be..."

Lashona lines up her cock head with my puckering asshole. Meanwhile she grabs a bottle of some clear fluid. It's lubricant. She slathers my nethers and pucker in it, as well as her titanic rod. She licks her lips as she sets the bottle aside and rubs her fat dick against my twitching anus. "You're so adorable, Traci. I'm sure you'd pull off anything."

Her praise brightens my once anxious and eager smile, and I get the motivation to grab my cheeks and spread my crevice apart as much as possible. Lashona rests her right leg upon the couch, while the other supports her against the floor. She leans over, hovering above me and looking me directly in the eyes. Her tits dangle and rest upon my chest.

Here it comes. The paradise I've been craving ever since I saw her.

"I'm gonna put it in now... are you ready, Traci?" She asks. I nod before she lands a kiss upon my forehead. "Make sure to relax. Try not to tense up. Give in to it." Her airy words and fragrant breath seem to help in that endeavor, and I resolve to decompress.

I feel her glands dig through my opening. Pain emerges at first as she gradually sheathes herself inside my sphincter. My insides constrict around her heat and weight. I instantly moan in joy and elation. Following her advice, I practically go limp and simply let her have reign over me.

Her dense, heavy length tunnels through my canals, spreading apart the fleshy walls of my rectum. My hands tremble and struggle to cling to my ass cheeks as pure bliss shoots out through my body from my asshole. My toes curl and grip the air, reaching for something to latch on side from the socks upon them.

"You're so tight, Traci...! Your asshole is so tight...! I love it!"

Eventually, she reaches my prostate, and things get really rowdy. Lashona bottoms out, her entire eight and half-inch fuck-stick buried up to just centimeters before the ballsack inside my abyss. This must be heaven. This just has to be. Nothing can feel better than her penis pressed against my male g-spot.

My little toy had long since been standing at attention and leaking pre-cum. Within seconds of her attempting to pull out, my asshole gripped onto her and begged her to stay. My wish was fulfilled, and she dives back inside me so much faster than she first entered me. She slams my prostate, and forces a moan from my lips as well as a hot load of cum from my dick. Only the first thrust, and I'm already a sweaty, ejaculating mess.

"L... Lashona...!" I squeal her name. I don't care who hears me. I want to shout to the heavens of her glory!

She begins to move even faster, retreating out of and advancing into my boy-slit at a rising pace. She starts to go so fast that her pelvis slaps audibly against my butt, and my plump posterior jiggles and ripples on each impact. Hovering over me, she pants above me. I do a similar action, but with the added ceaseless moans of euphoria and pleasure, while every so often repeating her name in a shout of ecstasy.

"Traci... I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum in you." She reports to me, surprisingly softly. All this strained pleasure had no effect on her cool demeanor. "Take it all."

"Yess! Fuck! Cum in me! Fill me up!" I blare, turning my head up and clenching my teeth as I brace for her seed.

After countless thunderous thrusts against my delicate prostate, she finally slows down and unloads inside me. The heavenly sensation of her livid girl-cum flooding into my rectum causes me to ejaculate as well. Her penis deposits spurt after heavy spurt of semen into my narrow, once starving fissure. She finally somewhat breaks her cool demeanor and groans through her soft, kissable lips.

As she pulls away, she drags her cum with her until she has escaped me completely. Her sticky white milk seeps from my dilating ring. I massage my abused entrance and stick my finger into her sperm. "Lashona... Lashona... Lashona...!" I repeat her name after each haggard breath, as if I were metaphorically chiseling it into my mind.

I lay there, a sticky mess on my pelvis and a load of thick delicious shemale cum draining from me and forming a puddle. Lashona brushes my cheek with her hand before kissing me on the lips. She lays there, next to me. Nursing my battered backside and spent penis.

She stands up, cum still dribbling from her wilting prick. She cloaks me in a spare blanket. "I understand you've no way to get home. You can stay here with me, if you like." She smirks warmly before climbing back into the couch with me. She wraps her arm around me, cradling me into her warm and busty chest. Her cock pokes through my legs, brushing up against my sack. "Thanks... I'd love to, if you'd have me."

I rest my right arm over the couch armrest, and the other on my stomach. My left hand exhibited the diamond-topped ring she threw my way earlier. I hadn't taken it off since the bartender gave it to me. And I don't intend to ever take it off.

I'm her subject now.

She truly was a queen.

And I wanted nothing more than to be her royal play-thing.