Devil With A Blue Dress On

Even as my right hand moved toward a container of Astroglide, my left found its way to the nape of Andi's neck. Brushing her hair aside, I kissed the hollow where her spine disappears into her skull. She gave a little quiver, and began to slowly grind against the sofa.

My finger bumped its way slowly down the xylophone of her spinal column, pathfinder for my shadowing tongue which left a liquid pathway of saliva in its wake. Halfway down my hands strayed from the trail to caress her sides, abandoning the tongue to complete its journey unescorted.

Ignoring her ass, I stroked her thighs, her hips, her back, gently blowing against the warm flesh after my hands had passed. I listened to her breathing quicken, heard the escape of a half-buried moan. And then I stepped back, ending all contact, to admire what was soon to be mine.

I loved the way Andi looked arched over the furniture, inviting, vulnerable, her legs beginning to tremble from the effect of holding her pose. And her ass, Andi's ass was like an overripe peach ready to split at any moment. I dropped to my knees and gave each buttock five broad long licks, inhaling the scent of dark spices her body gave off. There was nothing buried about her moans now.

I pried her tight cheeks apart and for the first time, saw her pink anus, Clenching her butt, Andi had her hole wink in invitation to me, not that any was necessary. I coated my throbbing rod with Astroglide and, moving closer, squeezed a large glob of lube onto her tailbone. Again Andi shivered, whether from the temperature of the gel or desire or fear to this day I don't know.

Digital Picassos painted her rosebud with lube, teasing the crinkled edge of her puckered hole before sliding their way inside, one at a time until an advance team of three fingers were camped out in her colon, stretching and relaxing her for my entrance. The swirls of the Astroglide looked especially wicked against the dark chocolate skin.

As I started to move my cock toward its target, the hand guiding my rod brushed against something, something out of place, something that shouldn't have been there; a hanging bag of flesh. Moving back I grabbed Andi by the arm, forcing her to turn around and stand up at the same time.

The expected female genitalia were missing. There was no pussy nested between the front of Andi's thighs, its lips wet with anticipation. Instead there was a semi-hard black cock, its dripping crown emerging from its foreskin like a gopher peaking out of its hole. It wasn't the monstrous black cock the size of a baby's forearm you read about in all the porn stories. If fact, it was a little less in size than mine but it was a cock and it was jutting out from where a cunt should have been.

For a moment Andi and I both looked at each other, her eyes betraying her worries. As she started to speak, I lifted my hand to her face. She flinched away, expecting to be struck. Instead I placidly brushed my palm against her face before resting a single finger across her lips.

Again I took her arm, turning her back to the sofa, pushing on her back until she was once again hunched over its top, ready to provide me with pleasure.

She turned her head to look at me. I turned it back down to look at the sofa cushions.

"Just be quiet Andi, There's nothing you need to say."

As the tip of my dick made contact with her rosebud Andi pushed back, enveloping an inch with her first thrust. Now it was my turn to moan as she contracted the muscles of her sphincter around my rod, dragging another half-inch into her hungry hole. A moist warmth spread its way down the length of my dick until Andi's ass was nuzzled up against my pubic bone, our low hanging sacks bouncing against each other as I began to set an uptempo rhythm to our motions.

Andi fucked like a starving tiger, growling as she rode my rod back and forth, its reddened length pistoning in and out of her tight, distended hole, I buried myself to the hilt, luxuriating in my mastery, however temporary, over the body underneath me.

Stretching out I laid myself over her back, our commingled sweat providing the lubrication where our torsos rub against each other. Although this position took half my dick out of Andi's ass and slowed down the momentum of our movement it had its own rewards in the feeling of my nipples being raked against her shoulder blades, the green apple scent of her shampoo wafting from her perspiration-damp hair, the heft of her breasts against my palms.

I turned Andi's face to meet me, her lips hot on mine, my tongue darting into her mouth like a minnow, exploring along the inside of her lips, across the front of her teeth, now back out to tease the corners of her mouth, now in again, our mouths sharing the same air, our lungs breathing the same breath, Her dark brown eyes were closed as I moved my tongue to shower them with butterfly kisses.

Then it was back to savage fucking again, pure mental lust translated into physical motion, the room filled with our grunting and panting, ecstasy given voice. Grabbing the free sides of Andi's slip with my hands, I used it as an aid in our coupling, pulling her on and off my cock even as she pressed herself tighter against the sofa, using its bulk to add strength to her answering motions. I pushed forward, Andi pushed back. I pushed forward, Andi pushed back. As our excitement rose so did the force of our lunges.

My orgasm ripped though me like a tsunami, carrying me high and far on its crest before spending itself against the shore. I lay slumped against Andi's back panting for air. As my breathing became more even Andi wiggled out from under me and guided me the front of the love seat. She disappeared only to return with a warm wash cloth she used to bath my groin, giving the head of my dick a lingering kiss as she finished her clean-up. I patted the cushion next to me but Andi shook her head, rushing instead to the bathroom. The sound of running water obliterated any other noises she was making.

I was surprised, but not stunned, to find out Andi was a she-male. Almost all of the indications of her true nature had registered with my subconscious: the heavier than normal make-up and the follicular bumps, the low voice, the thick fingers, the silicone tits; the clues were all there.

As a psychologist I know each of us has a primeval shadowself hidden inside; one which eats at our table and shares our bed without anyone knowing it; one which whispers to us at night; tempts us with rough forbidden desires, black-veiled pleasures interwoven with liquid crimson ribbons. The one we keep hidden under a thin veneer of civilization, the one we want no one else to see, the one we keep shrouded from others and often even from ourselves. Despite my professional knowledge I'm no less subject to this duality of person than anyone else.

A central motif of religions both ancient and new is the personification of the tempter, the one who promises to fulfill our deepest longings if only we will stray from the path of righteousness. Heaven sends us good meat while the Devil sends us cooks. But, as Shakespeare might seek to measure it, "Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?"

Even though I still make love with my wife, my relationship with Andi quenches thirsts I never knew I had. I'm not gay. I can honestly say I've never had sex with another man. Because when I bury my cock deep in Andi's ass, let her lips caress me, I'm not with another man; I'm with a very special woman, one who does for me things no other woman can do.

I've taken Andi off the streets, found her an apartment and a good paying job as an administrative assistant with a old friend from college. After all his mistress was my secretary for several years so turnabout is fair play. Our trysts are regular and rewarding. Sin or not, I'm content to love my own personal "Devil With A Blue Dress On."