At first, I’m sure her flirtations were innocent, just for the fun of teasing a horny young boy. For me however, it was so much more. An infatuation and lust that burned and would not die down. Although I was so much younger than her, it did not stop me from pursuing her. Too be honest, looking back now, although I didn’t know she was a shemale, I probably should have known. I would leave notes for her on her car, almost nightly. My notes would declare my lust for her, my desire to be with her. Words stating how beautiful she was inside and out. Sometimes I even left flowers, but I always signed thenotes. I wanted her to know exactly who had written them. Her responses were always the same. “You don’t know what you are saying” or “You don’t really know what you are asking for.” Weeks later, I had worn her down and she was flattered by the attention. I asked her to go out with me and she told me I would only be disappointed. However, she eventually gave in and invited me to her place.. There were several possibilities, but one in particular caught my eye. She was nondescript, a mousy sort, somewhat slender but not pristine and older which was exactly what I was looking for. I chose a corner that was somewhat semi-private that contained a table and chair. I opened my carryon and laid out some of the instruments of choice for this evening. The first was a bulb syringe with an extended tube nozzle. An insulated container was full of heated oil to be used by the syringe, which nobody realized. A plug with an attached ponytail, and a tube of lubricant completed the display. My laying out the objects attracted some attention. Half dozen women were looking on, the mousy one being one of them. I sat down on the chair facing the group and waited. Slowly my first choice walked forward to stand in front of me, eyes cast down in a submissive stance. I lifted her chin and looked at her, then made a motion with my hand towards her clothing. She quickly removed what little she.
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