Beyond

1

There are times, as you surely know, when you are so charged with pent-up sex that only a helping hand, or other body-part, will meet your need. At such times, solos are no use. You may come, and spray your juices far and wide, but it does not make a full discharge. A sample before I record the most extraordinary instance of this overwhelming necessity for the kindness of another.

I was in New York, viewing the erotic paintings of an artist new to my gallery, and it is a tribute to their power that afterwards I was left so sexually tense that I was leaking in my knickers and my nipples were on fire within my bra. Yet I knew that even though one touch to my rigid clit would tip me over, the orgasm would be a damp squib, leaving me more desperate.

In this condition, I was having a drink in a bar, hoping the alcohol would blunt the frustration, and an exquisitely dressed business-woman arrived beside me to order. She was in late middle-age, I guessed, perfectly coiffed and made-up, cool and collected in her tailored suit in the summer heat. We smiled at each other, and her mouth twitched a little as if she were amused. I even felt a little offended for a moment, and then she said, 'I know why your fidgeting, ma'am. Your stretched so tight a violinist could play you.'

'Is it obvious?' I asked.

'Only to someone who can read the signs, because she's been so circumstanced herself.'

'Can you help me, please?' I whispered, just audibly under the ambient sound.

'I wouldn't have spoken otherwise. I'd love to. The helper has to want to help, to share the satisfaction. Go to the ladies' room. Go in a stall and take off your underwear, and I'll join you.' She turned away, as if our conversation was over, and sipped her drink.

Trembling with yet more desire, I did as she bade and waited, agog, behind the locked door, for what seemed a long time. Then someone came into the room and called softly, 'Right with you.' I heard her wash and dry her hands, showing wonderful consideration. Then I opened the door and she popped in and relocked it.

I had actually removed all four garments and stood close before her naked and temporarily still, as if my nerves were already primed to receive her touch. Nonetheless, when she clamped her mouth over a nipple, I shuddered and let out a little cry. She acknowledged this with a little humming sound in her throat and reached behind me to caress my bottom. That almost tipped me over, even before she had got to my vulva, but she knew just how much and where to touch. She took her mouth away a moment to ask, 'Are you ready? I want so much to take you there. Can you give it to me? Come for me?'

'Oh, yes! Please just do what you like.'

Still stroking my bottom with one hand she laid the other on my stomach and moved it down into my fluff. Then a finger slipped into the top of my crease, slid over my clit and glided down. She said, 'I'm going in now, if you're ready. I love to go in, and you're sure slippery enough. Here I go.'

Two fingers gently probed up and in, while her thumb rubbed sweetly at my clit. The other hand fed its fingers into my crack and one of them tucked a tip into my anus. Without haste she flexed those skilful digits, playing me as if I were, indeed, a musical instrument.

She began to pant a little, accompanying my own increasing breaths, and said, 'You're coming. I can feel you, deep inside. It's terrific.'

Quite slowly, as if there was all the time in the world, the orgasm gathered, in my thighs, breasts and bottom. For a moment, the pulsing sensations, vaginal and clitoral, receded a little, like waves withdrawing down the beach before sweeping in again. Then they thundered in and broke in a flurry of foam, while my lady crooned and chirruped in delight.

We stayed motionless a while, then she withdrew fingers front and rear and gave me a hug, and I said, 'Can I do the same for you?'

'Thank you, no,' she said, 'I'm not in need at present, and I have to be back at work.' She patted my bottom and let herself out of the cubicle. I closed the door and reached for my clothes. I heard her wash again. Then she called, 'Pass it on, whenever,' and went. And I did, I did, and will now relate the outstanding occasion hinted at.

2

I was at the gallery one Sunday, catching up on paperwork and answering emails, some with images of art works attached, when there was a phone call. It was from a new, young painter whom I had not yet met, but who had shipped us several excellent works. 'Dulcinda' sounded ill at ease, in a husky voice, and asked if I would receive an unscheduled visit, to deliver by hand another completed painting. I was ready for this, yes, and was looking forward to learning the gender of the newest addition to our stable, though of course I didn't say that.

The person I admitted was abundantly female. She was smaller than me, five feet two or three, with long, naturally blonde hair, and impressive breasts. She shook my hand quickly but avoided eye-contact, as if shy, and stood awkwardly with the canvas, wrapped in a bin-bag, under her arm. Then I realised that she was not shy but trying to conceal great tension and failing, so that for a moment I thought she was ill, shaking with 'flu perhaps.

'Are you all right?' I asked.

Yes, she was fine, just a bit nervous about how I would regard the painting. So, I took it, removed the plastic and laid it on my desk. Across the top, in a stylised, Gothic sort of script was the caption, 'Virgin Forest.' Beneath this the painting showed a small glade in dense woodland. A naked young man sitting on the ground, leaning back against a tree trunk. At an angle to his legs a milk-white unicorn positioned, half lying on its side, belly exposed, head resting on the boy's nearer thigh. Its tongue, protruding from its open mouth, was licking the adjacent penis, which, small but erect, was ejaculating profusely. The unicorn's penis, huge and pink was also ejaculating, great gouts of milk-white sperm.

Did I like it? I did, yes. But Dulcinda did not seem reassured. Rather, the slight shaking became more pronounced. Then she shot me a pleading look, and I diagnosed her problem. 'You're full up with it, aren't you?' I said. 'Every nerve crying out for release.'

She nodded and gave me a rueful smile. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'It happens now and then, and the grapevine says you sometimes, sometimes...'

'Yes, I do,' I said. 'And I'd love to do it for you, if you can put yourself in my care.''You may be shocked, though,' she said, as discomposed as before. 'I'm not quite like the others.'

'Dear Dulcinda,' I told her, 'I've seen every kind of gender there is, and had sex with all of them.'

'Not like me,' she said.

'Well, would you like me to find out for myself?'

She nodded and stood silent while I took off her shirt. Under it her beautiful breasts nestled in her bra, looking perfectly female. And when I removed the bra they sagged a little under their weight, and there was no sign of augmentation. The nipples were large and erecting as I reached out to touch them. Then I unzipped and took off her skirt, and came across the first slight surprise. She was wearing lycra cycling shorts, enclosing her from the waist to mid-thigh. But if that was what she favoured for pants, fine.

The skin-tight fabric showed off her big bottom, big, that is, in proportion to her overall size. It jutted out abruptly from her hips, swelling backwards and sideways, deep-buttocked and curving in all dimensions. 'What a gorgeous bottom,' I said.

'It's enormous,' she said, 'You've no idea the mockery that's caused.'

She was shaking so much I thought she would overbalance, and as I put my arms round her, she said, 'You think it's beautiful? Thank you. But you've haven't seen everything yet.'

'Well then, let's see what's under these shorts,' and I released her and knelt to take the hems and pull the clingy garment to her ankles. I lifted her feet one by one to free them, noticing that she kept her legs close together. Then I raised my eyes to her pussy.

There was no pussy. Amidst the trimmed fuzz there was a smooth surface, as if she were a doll. She was also shaking so hard I threw my arms round her hips and grabbed hold of those voluptuous cheeks. This brought my face close to that featureless point where her thighs were pressed shut. She said, 'Now you'll see,' and she opened her legs.

From between them, from where it had been folded back, tucked away, something fell, almost flicking my chin, and hung against her thighs. It was a fifth limb, a third leg, an extension from her mons. But no, technically, anatomically, it was a cock, dangling nine, ten, inches, and three inches in diameter, its shield invisible within the enveloping foreskin.

The strange and wonderful thing was that although it was a male attribute, it was not masculine. It was far beyond the limitations of gender. It was so far beyond that it was as much female as it was male, an essential extension of this girl, as womanly as her abundant breasts.

I was surprised, yes, not by her being revealed as transsexual, if that label were applied. I had quite often encountered transgender people who kept their cocks pulled back between their legs. But the sheer size was startling, and I stared, marvelling, enthralled, longing to take that magnificent organ in my hands, my mouth, my cunt.

Misinterpreting my silence, she tried to turn aside, to withdraw that amazing phenomenon from my sight, my comprehension. 'I told you you'd be shocked,' she said in a small voice, beginning to cry, her tears falling onto my upturned face, looking up to express my wonder and delight.

'My dear girl,' I said, 'I'm only shocked by admiration. That is one of the most wonderful things I've ever seen. I just hope you want me to touch it, to ease you off with it.'

'Oh, yes, I do, I so much do, but I need to see you. Please. I have to see you.'

I understood, she wanted me naked, too. She needed the stimulus of another body, of someone offering the self to the encounter. So, I stood and shed my clothes, so that we were bosom to bosom, thigh to thigh and looking into each other's eyes. Then she took my breasts gently in her hands and thumbed the nipples. Which I took as showing me what she wished, and I hefted those delicious globes and thumbed in turn.

'I love those,' she said of my tits, 'I've seen so few. It's going to be all right now.'

She had stopped trembling but was all the more poised in imminent orgasm. It was just a matter of how we were to achieve it, and to the max. 'I must show you something else,' she went on.

'You have a vagina as well,' I said.

'No. I wish I had, and I almost do have, but look,' and she took her hands from my tits and put them round hers, both of us holding her tits. She squeezed and milk oozed from the nipples. 'My system drinks up the treatment so much,' she said. 'My breasts grew like mushrooms, so fast. They were just waiting to grow.'

'Mine can't do that,' I said, 'Though they did grow pretty quick. Can I suck?'

'Not yet,' she said, 'It would make it happen, but not the best way on its own.'

'What's the best way?'

'You know what it is,' she said.

We released each other and I knelt again, and gazed at that great member, which, now she was confident of me, began to swell a little, though I understood that engorgement would be slow for such a huge erection. Indeed, the process consisted mostly of a hardening within rather than enlargement. Slowly it became more rigid, lifting towards me a little, but too heavy to rise very far. It tensed and relaxed rhythmically with her heart-beat, and I took it carefully, reverently, in my hand.

She drew in a hissing breath and her pelvis jerked towards me as I gently pushed the loose skin up the shaft, which was too big for my fingers to meet round it. The thick fleshy foreskin withdrew and the glans peeped forth. It was surprisingly small, shiny, pointed and pink. The body of it stiffened against my palm and she gave a gasping cry.

'Suck, suck!' she ground out, and I leaned forward and drew a nipple between my lips, at the same time sliding the foreskin fully back and then folding it back down. Simultaneously, as she screamed, a flood of sweet milk filled my mouth and a long jet of warm liquid splashed against my chest and ran down my belly. I gulped and took my mouth away, eager to watch as another squirt of her ejaculate arced towards me and spread across a breast. A third time her hips rocked forward and a stream of cloudy fluid oozed from the distended glans and dripped to the floor.

I stood and embraced her, the enormous member slackening against my thighs, still leaking that spirituous substance down my legs.

'It's always been like that,' she said. 'Men's stuff is thick and slippy, but mine is always more like my milk. There's so much of it, too.'

'Yes,' I said, 'It's like a woman's cum. But, then, you're so much a woman.'

'There's more of it still,' she said. 'Once I start, it happens many times, till I'm exhausted and empty.'

'I can feel that,' I said. 'You need to come again and again, like many women. So, come home with me and we'll eat and top up your tank and go and on. Would you like that?'

'Oh, I so much would! But what about you? Let me give it to you, too.'

As you can imagine, I was half way to coming already, and holding me tightly she reached round me, slid her fingers down my crack and tucked them under my cheeks. I parted my thighs and her questing fingers glided along my vulva and found my clitoris.

'Is that right?' she asked, 'I'm not much used to doing this. Mostly I've been with men and trans.'

'Yes,' I said, the orgasm gathering, 'Just do what you're doing.'

'Oh, I can feel it starting. I can feel it through my breasts. It's exciting. I'm really going to make it happen.'

'Yes, you are,' I said. 'Rub your breasts on mine. That's right.'

'It's going to happen for me, too!' she announced. 'Can you open your legs?'

I parted my thighs and that huge, now hardening organ pushed its way between them.. I could feel the foreskin being pushed back as she thrust and withdrew. That that was enough, and I said, 'I'm coming, I'm coming.'

'Me, too, me, too,' she whispered in my ear, and I felt that great shaft swell, and its hot milkiness splattered against me as she drew back to push forward, and at the same moment I climaxed under her fingers and my breasts swelled against hers.

We clung together, panting and stroking each other's bottoms, murmuring in shared triumph and delight, while she continued to leak from breasts and tool-tip.

I fetched a towel from the little toilet we have there and we dried ourselves. I mopped the puddles of her ejaculate from the floor, and home to mine we went.

2

Over a light meal, I asked her for what more of her history she cared to share. I love to learn life-stories and sexual adventures.

'It's quite natural,' she said. 'No injections, no additions. It began to grow like that when I was twelve. Of course, boys laughed and pointed and made jokes when they saw me in the shower. Some of them wanted to touch it. But as it grew I knew I was a girl. It wasn't a boy thing. It was so far not a boy thing it was my girlhood. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' I said, 'When I first saw it I thought it was beyond. Beyond maleness, beyond gender limits, part of your womanhood.'

'You do understand! So, I stopped appearing naked, and left school as soon as I could and started the transing. My bum was already big, and the boys had mocked that, too, and now it shaped, and my breasts grew, as I said, like mushrooms and soon lactated. But I was a virgin, too shy to show or share my new body, and I didn't know how to have the special feeling. I had read books and watched websites, of course, but I didn't understand quite what to do.'

'But you knew you wanted sex, you knew the special feeling was possible?'

'Yes. And when I was eighteen, I got brave enough to hint to men, so they could grasp the situation. Some of them were disgusted, and some were just curious and one of them undressed me and rubbed me off, and I knew that was on the way to what I needed. He wanted me to rub him, too, and I did, and when his sperm came out I was so excited that my stuff shot out again, and he thought that was funny.'

'Was your ejaculate always like that, like milk?'

'Yes, and so much of it. I went with another man who just wanted to drain it out of me again and again. He kept counting the number of times it came out, but that just made me feel like a freak, and that was often a problem. The men wanted me as a kind of act or show. Some wanted to go up my bum, and I do like that. Mine is like a woman's opening, easily entered.'

'Did you try going with women?'

'A couple of times, yes, but the first one wanted me inside her and we couldn't manage it, because I was still too shy and anxious. The other one found she couldn't respond, because I was just too strange, outside her experience, though I did so much want to go into her. I hope you can help me about that.'

'I think I can. I won't be able to take it all, though, you know. But I'm longing to have you inside and feel you come.'

'I'm longing for that, too,' she said. 'So far the best for me has been a lovely trans. Hers was very big. Not as big as mine, but she said that was partly why she wanted to trans. It was like you said, beyond male. Meeting female on the other side, she said. She loved my breasts and bottom, too. They made her feel even more of a woman. It was wonderful for us when she went up me, and I could quite easily take all of her, and she wanted to be face to face, while the men mostly wanted to do it from behind. So, while we were facing we could stroke and suck breasts, and as she went in and out with hers, she massaged mine, and we could usually go together. She liked my splashing all over her and I liked her splashing me, because hers was like mine. It wasn't thick and sticky, it was runny and poured out of me. And she could do it almost as often as me, without taking it out of my bottom. She just kept pushing herself inside, going hard again, and keeping her hand moving up and down on me, and after a little while we peaked together again, and soaked each other more. We could just keep on and on, as if there were gallons of our stuff inside and ready to flow out many times.'

'It sounds ideal,' I said. 'But you're not together now?'

'No,' she said regretfully. 'Eventually she wanted to trans all the way and had the operation. Then it was a long wait till she was ready to try the new way, but she was too small, and also wanted now to go with men. Since then I haven't done it.'

'No wonder you were so full of it,' I said, 'And still are, I can tell. Let's go and do something about that.'

We were soon on my bed, with plenty of towels beneath us, anticipating a long, leisurely night of sex. I was tempted to say 'fucking,' but I don't much like the word, partly because it suggests an active party and a passive one and associates in my mind with men penetrating women, or other men or trans.

First, we explored each other. I could not get enough of looking at that stupendous extension of herself and was hoping to take as much as possible in my mouth and in my cunt. And that was not her only astonishing feature, for, as she had said, her anus was distinctly vaginal, since it was more of a slot than a ring, and its surrounding tissue was soft and yielding. I could insert several fingers easily, and she welcomed them in. Her balls, too, were fascinating, large, closely packed in their sack, and tucked tight up under her shaft

She was fascinated by my vulva and vagina, too, because although she had had those contacts with women she had never studied their genitals close up. She relished teasing my clitoris erect and running her fingers in and out of my twat.