My Beautiful Surprise

Mark Holloway groaned as he sat up in bed and reached behind him to touch Madison. It was six o'clock on Saturday morning in Birmingham, Alabama. His hand met only a cool pillow and undisturbed sheets. Then he recalled with an increase in his heartbeat that she was due to arrive at the Birmingham International Airport later in the afternoon. She could do wonders, but she had yet to master the art of being in two places at once.

Since he wanted to be there ahead of time, he forced himself to get out of bed. Better get under way, he muttered to himself, if I'm gonna have time to mow the back yard. She likes that.

He stood up and shambled to the full-length mirror before which he spent the next two minutes staring at himself. It wasn't a prideful thing...he just did it periodically as much to be thankful for what he had as anything else.

There it, or he, was. Six feet and 178 pounds of a thirty-one year old man, attractively proportioned and well-muscled. Madison didn't care for stubble and actually, neither did he. He just despised having to take the brief time to run his Norelco over his face and neck. But everything has a price, he told himself, so I'd better quit whining.

He pulled his wavy black hair over his right shoulder and began to brush it slowly. This was a sensual ceremony he reserved for Saturdays, Sundays and before making love. His mother, Juanita, had ceased cutting his locks at age ten; from that time on neither scissors nor razor touched the lovely mass of black hair that grew with unusual density from his hairline to the nape of his neck. Juanita had kept it shaped at the ends by cutting the mass straight across so that the growth from the front of his scalp was as long as that growing from the nape of his neck.

The effect was an incredibly lovely cape of waves and curls that completely concealed his back and shoulders when he left it unbound. Usually for work he tied it behind his head in a huge pony tail or pinned it in front of his ears with turquoise clips.

Wherever he went he was a magnet for attention, often from women who envied a growth of hair on a man that they could never match. His physician had told him that his hair was one-in-two- million, that very few men had a scalp and a physical system that would produce and support such a heavy and long growth. Touching and stroking his hair excited him sexually, and this morning was no exception.

Mark defoliated everything south of his navel: his cock and balls, his thighs, his tight butt and his anal cleft. The softness of his tanned flesh never ceased to arouse Madison. His cock always hardened when he stroked his velvety thighs.

He turned sideways to view himself, his blue eyes taking in the thick organ swelling to firmness from between his thighs. As he watched, his cock stiffened to a thick, straight rod eight inches in length, its sloping mantle stretched tight and shiny, its shaft encircled by bluish-green veins.

Rather than dress and eat, he shaved quickly, brewed coffee and took a steaming mug to the deck behind the house. He stood naked and aroused at the railing, gazing across three acres of Bermuda and other less familiar grasses, pine and scrub through which he and Madison often walked. Rachel Lattimore, his next door neighbor, would see him and that was all right. She was a lusty forty year-old mother of three and had a husband who worshipped her. When he wasn't screwing her legs off, and that seemed to be most of the time.

Rachel's pleasure was going topless around home in front of children, husband, guests, and in both front and back yards when at all possible. That she gardened and mowed both yards in shorts or denims, walking shoes and nothing else did little to dampen her reputation. It was well-known that during warm weather local teens would either park down the street from her house or find innumerable idiotic reasons to drive by in hopes of seeing her ample chest shake gloriously as if it were two mounds of honey-colored gelatin.

Mark chuckled as he thought of her. She had seen him nude frequently and always called him "my beautiful boy."

He had that luxurious feeling born of warmth on one's skin coupled with the erotic electricity of sexual awareness. His heavy, wavy mane was fluffed with body after his thirty-minute brushing and hung like a great dark cape that responded to errant breezes. Mark decided to linger outside and lowered himself to a nearby lounge.

With the quiet of his back yard and warmth of the early morning summer sun came a delicious drowsiness. He arranged his long hair, then lay back, closed his thighs after laying his now softening penis atop them, and began to recall the first time he and Madison had met two years ago.

- - - - - - - - -

Mark was exhausted after a long day trying to explain the varying strengths in reactive armor plate to a pair of managers from Washington. They were far more interested in playing golf than grasping the intricacies of additional armor plating on tanks and armored fighting vehicles. By early afternoon he would have preferred a cold barium enema to what he was doing. Nevertheless, by sheer force of will he consummated an arrangement of a $15 million contract and at the same time was on the verge of strangling the two agents from GenTex Industries. A migraine headache had set up shop inside his head and had begun ripping out parts of his brain.

Without even attempting to eat supper he went straight to his hotel room, collapsed on the bed in his clothes and fell asleep. A fumbling sound at his door woke him, and the red figures on his bedside clock unblinkingly informed him that it was 11:30. He heard someone attempting to turn the knob, so he moved groggily out of bed, swept aside the half of his hair that hung over his left shoulder, and wearily cracked the door to the hallway.

Mark's voice stuck in his throat as he peered out at one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As he struggled toward full awareness he noted shoulder length blonde hair, a rounded face with grey-green eyes and an embarrassed smile, a charcoal colored blazer over an intriguingly short skirt, a white blouse that gave him a quick impression it was straining under pressure from beneath and the best pair of legs in his recent memory.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, obviously taken aback by the appearance of someone she'd never met.

"Umm...ah...," he responded with obvious intelligence.

She glanced at the small white envelope that held her plastic key card, verified that her number matched that on his door, and said, "I'm sorry. They told me this was my room. The reservation was made for me over two weeks ago."

Mark retrieved his manners and opened the door.

"I'm Mark Holloway," he introduced himself as he widened the doorway and encouraged her to enter. I know this is rather odd, but it's late, this place is packed, I've been in this mess before, and SO...if you'll give me a few minutes to get dressed I'll see if I can help you straighten out this problem."

"No, thank you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I'll just go on down to the desk; they'll have another room."

He was already on the phone. After several minutes of discussion he hung up.

"They're not very helpful. There are no rooms available."

Her tired face fell.

"May I suggest something?" Mark asked quietly, trying to mitigate her uneasiness and disappointment. "It's late for getting a room that isn't there, you have to be exhausted, and this suite has a second bedroom. Will you consider staying in there? There's even a separate door to the hallway if you decide to leave. I'll stay out of your way, and you'll stand a lot better chance of getting real help in the morning."

"Are you sure...?" she trailed off with an understandably suspicious note in her slightly husky and obviously southern-accented voice. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd said, "Thanks, but no thanks," and walked off.

"I'm Madison Parker," she followed on, "and I am truly sorry to impose on you this way."

She entered with her medium sized wheeled case in tow.

Mark showed her to the adjoining bedroom, gathering a terrycloth robe as they passed the bathroom, and laid it on the bed for her. He noted her staring at his long hair but said nothing. Neither did she.

"I hate to be abrupt, but I'm done in. I'm going back to bed. One last thing...will you please join me for breakfast at, oh...say eight o'clock? I know the manager downstairs, he saves a table for me, and I'm completely unattached. Honest. Then you can be on your way."

She thought about his invitation for a moment, then agreed. He turned quickly and walked away.

- - - - - - - - -

The morning sun warmed his naked body and Mark sat up to apply sunscreen to his skin that showed tiny droplets of perspiration. He smiled as he stroked his penis, now firm and shiny. He pulled his mass of long hair to one side of the lounge, letting it fall onto the wooden deck. He raised the back of the lounge to a more comfortable position, then viewed his body. He slid his hands down his thighs, relishing their velvety feel, then he gently lifted his cock. A small drop of dew rested in its mouth and the tender mantle had become enlarged. If he touched himself he knew that an orgasm was almost certain. He laid it against his left thigh and raised his ball sac. He enjoyed his smoothness although grooming himself was a task that required time.

Mark touched his left nipple because it was so extremely sensitive; he felt a little zing of sexual electricity rush through his body. He glanced at his navel pendant, three strands of pearls suspended from a ring. It was unusual for a man to have such a decoration, but again, it aroused him extremely and his girl friends had always approved.

He wanted his Madison to return quickly and he planned for only a few moments of time between their arrival back at home and hauling her off to bed for the rest of the day. He was now aroused, yet he did not want to masturbate yet. In his rich bank of memories about her there was greater excitement in store. He returned to his reverie.

- - - - - - - - -

His guest made no sound that he could detect and he was not altogether certain that she had not quietly exited through the other door and disappeared. When he arose he knocked on the door and received no reply. He entered and found that the shower had been used but was dry; a faint scent of jasmine cologne and a damp, neatly hung towel and cloth verified that someone else had been there.

At eight o'clock she rapped lightly on his door and entered at his invitation. Again Mark's breath caught in his chest as she walked into the room. Her blonde hair was woven into a French braid. She wore little makeup that he could discern, but her red lipstick contrasted perfectly with her charcoal jacket and matching slacks. She wore a light, clingy and soft cranberry top with a neckline sufficiently wide and low to reveal delicious cleavage. Open-toe leather heels with thin straps completed her outfit.

In his golf shirt, faded denims and well-used Tony Lama high-heel boots he felt out of place and somewhat dusty. He looked down at his jeans and boots, feeling self-conscious, then realized that he could have dressed differently. The clothes were in the closet. He felt odd because of the beauty now standing before him. And try as he might, he could not drag his eyes away from her luscious breasts that trembled as she had walked toward him.

"If you don't mind my saying so," he said to her, "you are so lovely." He grinned somewhat sheepishly, and she felt an endearing tug at her heart that she unsuccessfully fought.

"And if you don't object, Mr. Holloway, I can say the same for you. I think your hair is beautiful. I have never seen so much lovely hair on a man."

"Chalk it up to my mother, Juanita. She quit cutting it when I was ten. Now I've gotten used to it and I like the way it feels. And thank you, Madison. You can, of course, call me Mark and I will be much happier. When you say Mr. Holloway I have an identity crisis."

They walked into the hallway and he closed the door behind them. They took the elevator to the first floor and Leister's Sidewalk Café which he knew to be misnamed in several respects. It was nowhere near a sidewalk, no one named Leister had ever owned or managed it, and strictly

speaking it was a buffet and restaurant, not a café. But it did offer a variety of the best breakfasts available in Atlanta and its clientele came from several miles around.

Mark recommended a few items for her; once their breakfasts arrived they devoured them with relish. He mentioned that his home was in Birmingham and described his work in general terms. Then he made a well-mannered effort to get Madison to speak of herself. After her initial reluctance that was born more of lingering embarrassment about the night before than a determination to not talk, she explained details of her trip and remarked that she was from Atlanta, Georgia.

Madison proved to be a truly enjoyable guest and before long they were laughing at shared mishaps in recent months in their respective offices. Time fled until Mark noticed that it was almost ten-thirty.

"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed. "I've kept you too long."

"No, Mark, you haven't. This has been the most enjoyable time I've had in several years."

"But you've got a plane to catch, haven't you?"

She looked down with embarrassment, then spoke quietly.

"Mark, I was stood up. I was supposed to meet someone here, a person who was to have made reservations for us. No one did. When I called him back a message said that the number had been disconnected. I'm not really certain what to do right now except just fly back home."

Her grey-green eyes were moist. And for the first time Mark noticed the length of her dark lashes. She wore no mascara or liner. Most women, he thought, would kill for lashes such as these.

"Madison, please don't think I'm pushy. My work here is finished. Would you consider taking the day off with me and just doing a little of the tourist-thing? No obligation at all. And I promise to be a good host."

Seconds passed as she stared at him, evaluating him.

"Mark, you're gracious to me. And you've been the perfect host. I think I would like to join you for the day...but only if you'll let me take us to dinner when we return tonight."

"Done!" he exclaimed with a happiness that surprised him.

That interchange prefaced the most enjoyable day Mark could recall in recent memory. He had dated often, shared memorable days and nights with several remarkable women, but this was somehow different. Madison Parker was, to put it simply, fun, bright, filled with laughter and ideas. By the time they returned to their hotel both were tired in that enjoyable way characterized by a simultaneous determination to continue if at all possible.

They had an early dinner, then went up to their room. Mark let Madison enter first, then he turned to close the door. When he faced about she was so close that he almost stumbled into her.

She had dropped her coat on a nearby chair. In addition to her lovely cleavage, he saw her slender bare arms and the shape of her large breasts beneath the soft fabric of her top. Obviously, she wore no brassiere. Before he could speak Madison reached for his face and kissed him tenderly.

"Thank you for today. This is to express what I cannot put into words."

- - - - - - - - - -

On the lounge Mark was bathed in a sensuous warmth and his body shone with perspiration combined with the sunscreen he had applied earlier. Now with his delicious memory of their first meeting his nipples hardened to points and his cock was firm enough to move when he contracted its muscle. He stared at his beauty, relishing the sensuous feeling of sexual fullness, a sort of headiness at the fact that he possessed such a gorgeous cock, and recalling the thrill he had experienced when he'd enjoyed several nude beaches.

Thick, long, its skin stretched tight and shiny, it stuck up as if it were a haughty sentinel. His balls were sensitive in his loose sac between his thighs and he longed to touch himself. He knew that if he gave in to his urge he would lose himself...this was such an exotic sensation, this hosting her in his memory as he awaited her actual presence, being naked and aroused, and recalling what else happened that had changed their lives.

- - - - - - - - - -

He responded hesitantly. Her mouth was warm, her moist tongue darted between his lips like a tiny wet serpent, and she smelled faintly of jasmine. She was soft and sweet and, in an intriguing way, delicate without being fragile. As he embraced her he felt her breasts cushioned his chest, bulging up from her soft top.

Mark glanced down and saw part of her left nipple emerge from her sweater. He touched her there and she gasped softly, placing her hand atop his own to secure it in place. Though she was slender her breasts were large for her size, nestling beside each other, her nipples pointed and the left one now bare and hardening beneath his manipulating thumb and forefinger.

"Madison, I'll stop if you wish. I've presumed too much after a wonderful day with you...," and he trailed off to silence as the lovely creature before him placed her forefinger upon his lips.

"Ah...Mark, if you only knew how sweet that is and how I've wanted you to do it."

Suddenly her grey-green eyes widened, then brimmed with tears.

"Madison, what's wrong? Did I...?"

"No, no! All you've done is give me a perfect day, take care of me, and make love to my breast. You are wonderful."

"Then what is it? Why are you crying?"

"Because you may very well want nothing more to do with me. There is something you need to know, Mark."

With that she pulled gently out of his embrace, turned away from him and began to remove her clothing.

Now he was stumped. "Madison, if you are under the terribly mistaken impression that you'll drive me away by undressing completely, let me relieve you. You are welding me to the floor of this room!"

She said nothing and continued to undress. He stared at her smooth, muscled back that tapered to a tiny waist and widened to rounded hips. Her ass was firm and tanned even in her anal cleft, her legs were things of beauty as she stood in her high heels. Finally, she turned to face him.

Heavy breasts trembled as if they were honey-colored orbs of gelatin tipped by swollen, dark brown nipples. A round emerald swung from a gold chain in her pierced navel. She had manicured her pubic bush by shaving everything completely smooth save for a blonde corona that encircled her fat penis and long fur completely concealing her ball sac.

Madison Parker was a shemale.

She awaited his reaction, fearful of rejection, daring to hope, aroused yet trembling with apprehension. His response was immediate.

"Madison, aside from the fact that you are the most beautiful creature I've seen in years standing naked before me...what's the problem?"

She could hardly believe what she had heard.

"But...," she began.

"No."

"No, what?" she responded with obvious puzzlement.

"No, it doesn't matter to me," he chuckled, enjoying the moment.

"It doesn't?" she said with astonishment.

"Nope."

"Maybe I'm confused," she began once more. "You mean that what I am doesn't turn you away?"

"Of course not!" he laughed. "You are exciting, obviously deep, stunningly gorgeous—you stopped traffic out there today—you are loving and filled with surprises. During this entire day you have intrigued me, made me think and brought me laughter. What about all of that should turn me off or offend me?"

Rather than drag it out any longer, Mark held out his hand and said softly, "Come here, Madison. Please. I want you."

The lady before him rushed into his arms and buried her face in the angle of his neck and left shoulder. Gradually her trembling ceased. He ran his hands over her back, then gently clasped a smooth cheek of her ass in each hand and squeezed. Finally, he ran his right middle finger through her anal cleft. Her breathing was becoming irregular with excitement. He thrilled at the thought of her fat cock swinging against his own and the mental imagery roaring through his brain like a firestorm.