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Soon after I submitted the third Ferry Tale to Literotica, Pushpa, from the second tale, visited again, with a charming, tender adventure to record. There had been no time on her previous visit to relate this, her second, story, which dated from after the first.
Naturally, there were preliminaries. For example, I had a yen to watch her ejaculate while just withdrawn, so that while I could see the spurts they were also going into me. Of course, she needed to plunge in fully to complete the climax. I know that a cock usually needs to finish, especially after a sequence of orgasms, in a warm, enfolding orifice. And I love to feel it deep inside, spilling its last seed. I fantasise my cervix is dipping into the spermpool and sucking it up. Pushpa has a special relish, too, in that my quimfur is nowadays pepper-and-salt — flavouring my vulva, she says. After she came for the third time, however, and was taking her ease, she narrated the ferry-tale which follows:.
She was en route to a summer conference in Spain, travelling from Plymouth. For once she was not also cruising her fellow passengers, but was considering an interesting mathematical conundrum, the subject of the paper she was go give, while consuming her dinner. But she has the most acute sensitivity to the states of being of others, often without their realising it.
Thus, when the young woman quietly sought permission and sat down with her modest meal, Pushpa sensed at once that she was tense with feelings which Pushpa interpreted as a mixture of longing and apprehension, as if she were yearning for some new experience but fearful of finding it, even of seeking, it. She was intensely, but covertly, scanning the other diners, her hand gripping her fork to suppress the slight shaking. She was avoiding eye-contact with Pushpa, looking down at her plate when not surveying the room. Which gave Pushpa a chance to study her.
She was in her early twenties, perhaps younger, and medium height, slim in build, as revealed by a tight, light-blue tee-shirt and short, tight, dark-blue skirt. Her long, dark hair fell to her shoulders, tending to fall round her face, providing a screen to conceal her glances around the room. The eyes, under lush brows, behind large-lensed spectacles, were, Pushpa was eventually able to discern, large and hazel, with long, feathery lashes. Her nose was slightly arched and thin, and her mouth small, turning down at the corners. Altogether, her features caused Pushpa to silently christen her Little Owl.
As Pushpa was draining her coffee-cup, however, she found those eyes looking into her own, and with a look Pushpa described as ‘beseeching.’ The mixed yearning and terror in those eyes went straight to Pushpa’s heart and she impulsively reached across the table, took the girl’s hand and squeezed it. The response was in keeping with the conflicted feelings, for the hand was snatched away, only to be immediately replaced in Pushpa’s hand.
‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it,’ Pushpa said, resuming the grasp.
The girl glanced wildly round, looked again into Pushpa’s eyes, returned the grip and tried to speak. ‘I — well — I can’t — I shouldn’t — I don’t know – ‘
Pushpa said, ‘I think I know what the problem is.’
‘You do? How do you know? I don’t even know myself.’ The voice was quiet, breathy, but the tone was of, rather forced, indignation. The hand was withdrawn.
‘All right,’ Pushpa said, ‘I’m not going to force you. Forgive my intrusion.’ And she stood up to leave.
‘Oh, no, please don’t go.’ The tone was now, like the initial look, ‘beseeching.’ This time it was the younger woman’s hand which reached to take the older woman’s.
Pushpa sat down again. ‘We’ve all been through it, you know,’ she said.
‘Not like this,’ bitterly. ‘You don’t know the difficulties.’
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ Pushpa said. ‘Don’t make assumptions.’
‘All right. But if I manage to tell you, you’ll probably be surprised, or shocked.’ She released the hand.
Pushpa laughed. ‘Everyone says this, but in my case it’s true. You can’t shock me.’
‘I don’t even know how to talk about it, especially to a stranger.’
‘Strangers are sometimes the best people to tell. But this crossing takes a whole night, so we could get to know each other a little. I’m Pushpa.’ She offered the hand again.
‘Sasha,’ shaking the hand but not letting go.
‘Shall we go on deck and find a quiet spot?’
Still holding hands they got up from the table, collected bags and sweaters and made their way up the companion way into the late evening fresh sea air, and found a bench with no-one too near.
Pushpa, without particularly looking at her, waited for the young woman to resume. ‘I’m a student, Romance languages. That’s why I’m going to Spain for the summer. I’ve been before, of course, but only for short trips.’
‘This time, then, there are more possibilities. Not just for improving your Spanish.’
‘Yes. But that sounds rather calculating, doesn’t it? Even a bit gross.’
‘Only sarıyer escort if you assume that it’s not just the language that’s Romance.’
The girl shifted about on the seat. ‘I’ve never had a romance. Or anything like it.’
‘Obviously not,’ Pushpa remarked almost inaudibly.
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘To someone whose had some experiences, romantic and not so romantic, yes.’
‘There’s a complication in my case, too, though.’
Pushpa now turned to gaze into the girl’s face. ‘Come on, Sasha girl.’
‘I’m not just an ordinary girl, so romance and other — things not so romantic are more complicated, especially when I don’t know what they are, and what I really want.’
‘Had it occurred to you that might once have been my situation?’
Sasha brightened, ‘ You mean you didn’t know what sort of romance you wanted?’
‘That’s right. You’ve almost told me, haven’t you? Tell me.’
Sasha looked away, gathered her courage and said, ‘Do you mean you might have been bi-sexual?’
‘No, my dear Sasha, you’re lagging behind a bit. I might have been tri-sexual.’
‘But that’s a way of describing my situation!’ Sasha exclaimed.
‘Of course it is. And, obviously, you’re going to have to experiment.’
‘Did you experiment?’
‘I’ve never stopped.’
Sasha paused to catch up. ‘You mean you found you liked men, women, and -‘
‘People like me, yes.’ She stopped, put her arm round the girl. ‘And like you.’
‘So you really are a transgirl?’
‘A bit too old to be a girl, but would you like me to prove it?’
‘Would you like me to prove it, too?’
‘If we’re going to be honest, of course I would.’
‘Why? We hardly know each other.’
‘Because, dear Sasha, you are a beautiful young transgirl, who fills me with desire.’
‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’
‘But there’s a problem, isn’t there. You’re afraid.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘I think I know why, but can you say it?’
‘If I go with a woman I wouldn’t be so afraid, but -‘
‘You’re afraid a man or another transgirl, a person with a penis, might rape you.’
‘It was probably all right for you, because you’re big and strong and confident.’
‘I did have to fend off a few aggressive organs, yes, it’s true. But it really comes down to the nature of the person, not the gender. The most violent partner I ever had was actually a transgirl about your size. When she got steamed up, she wanted to tear your knickers off and force her way into any convenient opening. Indeed, she might not bother to tear them off.’
‘The other thing is I’m a total virgin.’
‘Well, we all are originally, and there are several ways of being deflowered. Though that old-fashioned term seems inappropriate to me — I felt I was actually blossoming.’
Sasha said, ‘But I’m more of a virgin than you can imagine.’
‘Let me guess. You’ve never had an orgasm.’
‘The most I ever had was a snog with a girl when I was fifteen.’
‘Not even anything from dreams or fantasies?’
‘No. That time with the girl was life-changing. I wanted to be that girl, but I also wanted to be a girl making love to that girl, and I wanted her to be a transgirl making love to me, and I wanted to be a transgirl making love to her. That was what set me on the path to developing myself, to becoming the girl who could make love to a girl like a boy.’
‘What did your parents think?’
‘My mum threw out my dad when I was five, so my mum and I are very close. She knew I really wanted to transition, and she’s been fine about it. She just wants me to be happy. She helped to pay for it.’
‘So, you didn’t have any relationships while you were progressing?’
‘Well, I had friends, of course, and I’m quite close to some other students, but from that time with the girl when I was fifteen I was determined to stay completely virgin till I was complete and completely ready.’
Pushpa tightened her arm. ‘But you don’t know what you’re ready for?’
‘It changes all the time. I see an attractive man and I think of being in bed with him, though I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. Or I see a pretty woman and I fantasise us being together. And, also, of course, I think of myself with a transgirl, often one quite different from me. Like you.’
There was a pause while Pushpa gathered her thoughts, looking up at the stars and listening to the breeze created by the ships passage. Then she said, ‘When you imagine these liaisons do they excite you?’
‘Oh, yes, I always -‘
‘Say it, Sasha, say it.’
‘I always go hard.’
‘So, there’s nothing wrong with the equipment, then.’
‘No. I have to stop myself — making use of the — you know.’
‘Yes. But I don’t want to do that all alone. I want to make love with someone. That girl six years ago, she would have helped me, but I didn’t want to take advantage, and, of course, I wasn’t in my right body.’
‘Have you read any erotic writing or silivri escort watched any videos?’
‘Oh, yes. I know all the technical details, but the people are acting, aren’t they? It’s not real. I like the lesbian ones best, because they’re more tender, as if the women at least know and like each other. But I want my first time, whatever kind it is, to be with a real person who sees me as a real person.’
There was a long silence under the stars, broken by the breeze and the noise of the engine-room coming up from below and the splashy sound of the hull slicing through the sea. Pushpa hung back from proposing that she might be the real person for Sasha, and she guessed Sasha was hanging back from suggesting the same.
At last Pushpa said, ‘Speak your mind, speak your body, speak your spirit, Sasha.’
Sasha said, ‘Will you kiss me, please, Pushpa?’
They turned to each other, Pushpa took Sasha in her arms and their lips became sealed together, and opened without breaking the seal. Pushpa gently inserted her tongue, remembering it was some years since Sasha had kissed in such a fashion. But she quickly responded and several minutes passed while they relished the intimacy, the mutual probing, the sensuous sliding of turned-back lips against lips.
When they paused, Sasha said, ‘Are you excited, are you — erect?’
‘Would you like to find out? There’s no-one near and its dark.’
‘Can I? I want to so much. I want to hold you. I’m going up your skirt. What long legs you have -‘
‘All the better for -.’ Pushpa stopped, not wanting to signal any assumptions.
‘Yes, I know. Oh, you really are hard. Can I go into your knickers?’
‘You can tear them off, if you like.’
‘Oh, that is so wonderful. I’ve never held someone else’s penis before. It’s much bigger than mine. I love it.’
‘I’m loving your holding it.’
‘Pushpa, I want you to hold mine. I want that so much.’
‘I was afraid you’d never ask. Here I go. There you are, good and hard, too. Your knickers are so small, but they’re keeping you in. Your mum’s expertise, I guess. But I can get up the leg. Ah, yes, now I have you. Lovely.’
‘Pushpa, I want you to make love to me, I want you to have my first orgasm. But I don’t want it with clothes on out here. If we wait till tomorrow we can go to a hotel?’
‘No need to wait, darling. I have a cabin to myself. Will you go there with me?’
‘Need you ask? I’m longing for us to make love.’
‘But I won’t tear your knickers off, unless you want me to. I will do only what you want, what is right for you. And if you want to stop at any time we will stop.’
‘You can tear my knickers off if you like, but bear in mind they’re expensive. My mum makes bespoke underwear and I wear it.’
Once in the cabin, the preliminaries were over. Sasha was now confident with Pushpa, no longer fearful, eager to see what would happen, untroubled that she still didn’t know what she wanted to happen.
They resumed the kissing, running their hands over each other’s clothed bodies, murmuring appreciation and enjoyment without separating their mouths. Then Sasha withdrew and said, her voice shaking, ‘Pushpa I want to undress you. Before, I need first to see you, explore you.’
The ‘before’ was encouraging, Pushpa thought. She said, ‘Go ahead.’
Pushpa’s shirt was soon unbuttoned and pulled off her shoulders and down her arms, and Sasha said, ‘That is one serious bra you have on, Pushpa. I must just put my hand down it, because I’ve never felt into a cleavage — well, you know that everything is new for me. Mine don’t make much a cleavage, but you’re so smooth and warm. If I reach round I can take it off. The way they drop down a little and settle — I’ve seen that in videos and films, but it’s magical real and close-up. And your nipples! Their so big, and now I can see ones that stick out — they’ve gone hard, too. Oh, I want to suck them. You know, it’s funny, but when I see my mother’s I want to suck them, but I think she’d be shocked if I did.’
‘If she lets you see them like that you might get a nice surprise.’
Sasha hefted both breasts and sucked them in turn for a while. ‘Does that feel good?’
‘Of course it does. You must have played with yours, so you can guess.’
‘Well, yes, I have done that, and then had to resist masturbating, like I said. But now I want this skirt off. Good thing it has a zip so I can get it over that great bulge in your pants. Step out of your shoes.’
Sasha stood still and gazed at Pushpa’s pushed-out knickers. ‘No wonder you wear those big sports pants. You need some of my mum’s specials. These remind me of what the girls at school wore for games. Quite difficult to pull them down, but here we go. And there it is. It’s lovely, and that fuzz round it makes it perfect. I’ve got to hold it again, and I want to masturbate it. Would you have an orgasm soon? Would you “come”? I know that’s what people usually say.’
‘Yes, Sasha, I would come at once.’
‘I şirinevler escort can feel how charged-up you are. But first I want to see and stroke your bum. If I press close to you I can do it, like this. I love to stroke my own — it nearly makes me come. My mum has a lovely one. Not as big as this, but so round and firm. I’d love to stroke it. Do you like me stroking yours?’
‘I love it. And you’re pressing my cock against you, too. Watch out I don’t come.’
‘But I want you to come. That’s what I want, Pushpa. That’s it. I want to make you come. I want to feel your sperm. It’s exciting when it spurts out in a video, but I want to see it and feel it from you. And I want to have it on my tits. So, please, Pushpa, undress me and let me masturbate you. Tear off my knickers, if you like.’
Nothing loth, Pushpa soon had Sasha stripped to her knickers, her penis tenting the fabric. ‘Oh, Sasha, I’m so happy, so happy that I can just slip these knickers off, like this. I don’t want to tear anything. I want to see that sweet cock of yours. Oh, I love its shiny bulb, just peeping out of your foreskin. I want to suck it. And I want to hold your beautiful little bottom. It’s perfect.’
Pushpa described it to me. Sasha waist was so narrow that her bottom seemed to swell out from the small of her back into a cheek-wave, a sweet roundedness growing backwards and sideways, creating perfect hemispheres. It was firm and tensile, as if when Sasha fell on it she would bounce. Pushpa rand her fingers down the crevice and Sasha shuddered as they slid across her anus.
But Sasha now knelt down, took hold of Pushpa’s penis and directed it towards her neat, small, equally rounded breasts. She asked, ‘Do you like my tits? They’re only small, but I’m proud of them. I think my mother quite admires them, too.’
She should do, they’re delightful, just inviting me to christen them with my sperm.
‘Is this how you like masturbation? If I move the loose skin over the rim of the shield, like this? I know that’s how I like it — how it would make me come if I did it enough.’
‘You’re doing it perfectly. Can you feel it going harder?’
‘Yes. Does that mean you’re ready to come? Tell me when you’re coming. I want to be ready and not miss anything.’
‘I’m coming, Sasha. Don’t stop, but slow down. I’m coming. Here it is!’
With her other hand, Sasha lifted her breast to take the spurts, which splattered across her chest and upper arms. She said, ‘So hot and gluey. I’m going to spread it over me. Do you know I think I nearly came. I went harder and there was a tingling feeling between my legs.’
‘That was it, yes, you did nearly come.’
Sasha transferred her spermed hand to Pushpa’s bottom and kneaded it thoughtfully. She said, ‘I feel as if I’ve begun losing my virginity. My breasts have been flowered. Now I know what I want to happen next. Yes, I do know. I want you to make me come, to take my cum out of me. I want to come from your hand. I want us to see it happen.’
Pushpa said, ‘That will be wonderful. I think we could lie on the bunk, and I can toss you off onto my breasts. It’s better to lie down the first time, in case you faint or go dizzy as some people do their first time. And you won’t have to think about staying on your feet.’
They lay on the bed, Sasha’s head on Pushpa’s bosom, Pushpa’s hand gently holding Sasha’s cock. Pushpa said, ‘You have an adorable penis, Sasha, and I’m going to work it. Like this. Sliding that frilly foreskin over the shoulders, back and forth, up and down. I love the way your sweet little bulb peeps out till I draw the curtains over it, then pull them open again. Does this feel good, Sasha?’
‘It’s wonderful. You’re doing what I’ve done till I thought I might be coming and stopped. But you’re not going to stop, are you?’
‘The only thing that would stop me is your telling me to stop.’
‘I’m not going to do that, I promise you. Oh, I think I can feel it starting. There’s this sort of glow between my legs. It’s growing. Yes, this is it, isn’t it. Am I coming?’
‘You’re coming, darling. Your cock is stiffening, swelling. Tell me .’
‘Oh, lovely, lovely. It’s here, it’s shooting out. Hold me, hold me.’
‘I’ve got you. You came, you came. So beautifully. Your sperm blessed my hand.’
‘Thank you, thank you!’ And there was a flood of tears onto Pushpa’s breasts. The relief after the years of restraint found what outlets it could in addition to the orgasm.
‘Now your penis has blossomed. The next flowering.’
‘There are more?’
‘Oh, yes, my dear. Rest a little and we’ll find out how often you can come at one time — that’s something you need to learn. And we’ll have such joy and delight in the process.’
‘I’m thinking of the other virginities I can lose. What do you think?’
‘Ask yourself why you kept your penis, Sasha. Why didn’t you take the next step, too, the radical surgery? Was it the cost? No, I thought not. Shall I tell you why I didn’t do it? One reason was that although the engineering is pretty good it’s not good enough — you end up with a vagina, but it’s never going to be perfect. More important, I didn’t feel it was what I really wanted. What I really wanted was to be a transwoman like this.’
‘Yes, that was what I wanted, when I really thought about it deeply.’
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