A note from the author.
This is a story of a hermaphrodite, a person born with both male and female genitalia, and not to be confused with a transsexual. I'm not sure whether this subject has been approached by other authors, but I was looking to do something a little different and thought I'd give it a try. For those unbelievers, look out for an old adult movie called Bi and Beyond, there you will find a hermaphrodite for your perusal. As always, I look forward to your feedback.
Regards
Bazzza
It was in April 2005 that wife Sharon and I headed to Europe for our holiday to escape the down under deplorable wet winter. We were supposed to be doing Turkey, but in the end, the escalating terrorism thing put us off. Instead we opted for a bus tour taking in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. There was just under thirty of us on the tour, mostly couples but with a few solo's thrown in. We hailed from many countries, the USA, Canada, the United Kingdom plus the odd splattering from Australia and us from New Zealand. We were deemed too old for camping tours, although both Sharon and I would have slept rough at the drop of a hat as we both enjoy the outdoors. Both in our middle forties, we weren't quite ready for wheelchairs just yet. So we just had to settle for the comfortable hotel rooms and all the frills that came with them. Mind you, hot showers and comfortable beds after a long hard day aren't to be sneezed at.
We were lucky enough to have a fun bunch of people on the bus, and after a few days of getting to know each other, the frivolity began. Now, it would be fair to say that men and women have slightly different interests when it comes to holidaying. Most would agree that women love to shop, and will spend many hours grazing through every shop they can find, looking for that special little something of interest. And what do us men think of that? We roll our eyes up in despair just at the thought of another shop doorway. We want other things, like a bar that serves nice cold beer and nice food, and maybe with a view of the beach with lots of pretty girls. Or even better, a boat marina that has lots of expensive boats and pretty girls to look at. I guess you get the picture. It didn't take long for us men to extract ourselves from the wives shopping jaunts so that we could partake in a little fun of our own. The only worry was the unsupervised credit cards in our wives hands.
So as you can imagine, I was quite pleased when Sharon teamed up with Diana, a young lady who was travelling by herself. They could shop until they dropped as far as I was concerned, during the day I was off the hook and free as a bird. Without appearing too sexist, when I first meet women, I sort them into two categories. Those I would like to bed; and those that I wouldn't, Diana quite easily slipped into the former category. She was graceful, dark skinned, tall and lean with almost a model like figure. Her breasts appeared smallish and her buttocks only just filled out a pair of jeans or shorts. Was she pretty, maybe a little but not overly so? Her dark hair was cut shorter than I like on women, but who am I to judge. The main thing was that Sharon enjoyed her company and so did I, and at night Diana socialised a lot with us.
Halfway into the tour, Sharon and I were lying in our nice comfortable hotel bed after a busy night of eating and drinking. We'd spent most of the day apart, and were chatting aimlessly as we often do before sleep overtakes us. And one question from Sharon started a chain of events that we will never forget, or even want to.
"Do you think there's anything strange about Diana?" she asked.
I thought about Diana for a few seconds before answering, "No, why?"
"We were trying on clothes today, and I snuck my head into her cubicle as she was trying on a pair of jeans."
"And?"
"Well, down below she only had her panties on, and she seemed to have a bulge in them. I only got a glimpse, and then she turned away quickly so I couldn't see."
"What sort of bulge?" I asked as my interest picked up.
"Sort of a small cock bulge."
"She's not a guy is she?" I inquired.
"Like a tranny you mean? I thought about that, but she's too feminine to be one of those. There's no adam's apple or anything either. I dunno, it's all kind of strange really. Anyway, it doesn't matter, I like her and she's my friend."
Our little discussion had raised my sexual interest and I let my hand drift between Sharon's lovely thighs, "Fancy a quickie?"
"Dunno, I'm tired, and I've eaten and drunk too much." she whispered. "Anyway you don't know what a quickie is; you always want to make a pig of yourself."
Very true I thought to myself, but I left my hand where it was slowly stroking her pussy lips with the odd tweak of her clitoris for good measure. I smiled in the darkness, for I knew given time I would win her over. After a while, her thighs parted as she became wet, and her hand eventually slipped over to my waiting erection. It wasn't long before Sharon slipped astride me and sat down on my cock,; then placed her lips on mine so that our tongues could play.
"You're lucky that I love you, otherwise you'd have to settle for a quickie." she whispered as her wet luscious wet pussy slipped up and down on my cock. "But cause I do, maybe I'll just let you make a pig of yourself."
Oh god, how I loved this woman. Our marriage was the second for both of us; we had both been married to other people when we first met at work. Initially, we couldn't stand the sight of each other, but it was more of a competitive thing than a real dislike. We were both in the same sales team of a computer hardware company, and with others, were competing in identical product lines. We argued over the same customers as we competed for our sales commissions, but thinking back we both agreed that there was a little flicker of attraction between us. But back then, it would've been difficult to get me to agree that Sharon was an attractive and desirable lady.
From Dutch stock, Sharon was tall and wide shouldered, her straw coloured hair was cut fashionable short and streaked with blond tints. She was pretty with an oval face and big eyes, a smile would reveal nice white teeth, not that I got many smiles back in those days. Her breasts were substantial and were worn with some pride under tight tops. Below, her curved buttocks and thighs were displayed under tight dresses or skirts, and were the object of attention from any male in sight. However, getting caught looking at her fair attributes came with a look of some contempt, especially if it was me.
It was on an out of town work conference that things changed between us. By the second day we'd lost interest, and the afternoon speaker was about as captivating as a vegetarian's lunch box. Every hour, they gave us supposedly attentive listeners a break to stretch our legs. Sharon and I joined the stampede out of the room and headed for the bar which was some distance away. It would appear that there was a general lack of interest by everybody to return after the ten minute break. The conference co-ordinator then set about rounding up all of the stragglers sending them back in for another hour of boredom. Sharon and I just looked at each other, and without a single word said, headed upstairs to the safety of my room. The rooms were small, and we were soon perched on the bed having a fair shot of emptying the mini bar of its alcohol collection. Having successfully completing the challenge, we later snuck into Sharon's room to repeat the exercise.
Sitting side by side leaning against the headboard of the bed, we were soon pretty happy with life and having a great old time as the booze took its effect. With Sharon's legs slightly bent, her skirt would slowly slip upwards over her mid thighs, and required a little adjusting so her modesty could be maintained. I've always been a little braver when under the influence of booze, and I was quite interested her constantly moving skirt and what delights might lie beneath.
"Don't be a spoil sport." I commented as she again pulled it down. "I like nice legs."
