I Became a Coc Sucing Fag

I became a cock sucking fag Pt 5. (a bit long, but I had to set the story of meeting Jillian)

By now you have all figured out that sometime years later I entered into a gay relationship with a man. I mentioned him at the end of my first story, so there is no surprise there. And so far, I have regaled you with tales of an impromptu blow-job, which opened the door for more experimentation, lots of new and exciting porn videos, dildos, and toys I used to heighten and expand my sexual desires. All of which may be fascinating, and in many ways starts us to the heart of the matter of how I became a cock sucking fag. But endless stories of that nature only scratch the surface. So instead of me writing another self-masturbation story, let me get to the heart of the first big step I took and the second dick I ever sucked. Here's where the fun begins!

When we, modern society, got past the old dial-up internet. You remember, that long drawn-out; Beeeep, beeeep, beeeep... We entered into a world of sheer imagination, information at our fingertips, chat rooms, dating sites, and all the internet porn you could handle. And I was on the cusp of that development. I was working for the State of California in a customer service position, where we had a host of citizens who came into our office, for things like tax paperwork, birth certificates, information requests, legalization paperwork, state resources, grants, and alike. Daily I helped individuals at my counter window and provided them with the best service I could, supplying them with the paperwork they needed.

I became somewhat of a computer whiz, because I rolled with the times, instead of fighting the changes. I had finally moved out of the apartment building I had lived in for many years, settling on a nice ranch house in a gated community, just outside of the LA city limits. It was a modest house, with a small yard, but I liked the area and was enjoying home ownership. I did miss the apartment and all the people I had met over the years, and all the memories of my friends, the parties, the girls, the warm summer nights in the backyard, and all the times I bounced up and down on my dildo getting myself off, but it was time for something better.

I had a wonderful setup at my house. My house had three bedrooms, and I could use two to host friends or family coming to visit. I had a great updated computer system inside my front room. I was online constantly, in chat rooms, on the first generation of social media sites, dating sites, and browsing the Internet for information. Of course, watching the first generation of internet porn, mostly centered around Shemales. (For the remainder of this story, I will use the word Shemale, only because it was the accepted term (at the time), so please no one shun me for the term that is now transgendered.)

I could never get enough of it. Something fascinated me beyond simple interest. To see a woman with a dick just absolutely aroused me. And to watch them being fucked by a man, or fucking another man, a woman, or another shemale was an incredible turn-on. Scenes I frequently, jacked off to, in combination with my dildo. But no matter where I looked online, I could never seem to find one in, or on any dating sites. The area I lived in didn't have gay bars like downtown had. Those clubs were still being packed by big, gaudy, bulky, hairy men, to whom I had no attraction. So, for now, meeting a shemale seemed impossible. So, videos, toys, my fantasies, and hope were all I had.

Like I said in the previous story, every toy imaginable that would fit, or enhance my lust for anal sex, was purchased and used. I had joined one of the first generation of Gay Dating sites, and as much as I would receive messages and sometimes chat with men, or swap pictures, emails, and alike. I never found myself attracted to one of them enough to actually go on a date, let alone enter into a dating relationship. I still had women and kept my "gay desires" hidden deep in my little world. I had come to realize I was bi-sexual. There was no denying it anymore. There wasn't a bone in my body that could deny that. Simply stated, one is not straight when he is buying bi-sexual, or shemale porn, getting aroused by it. Using dildos and other anal probing toys to fuck themselves with, or sit at a computer and jack off watching two dicks in a sex scene and wants to suck dick. Period!

I came to accept it, what I needed to do, was do it. And I finally had my chance.

Enter Jillian. I was working on Wednesday afternoon, wanting to quit my mundane, repetitive job or hide in the bathroom for the remainder of the day. I finished with the customer I had just served. I looked at my computer screen waiting list, and I called out, "Number 317. 317, you're next."

Up to my window walked a taller beautiful Asian woman with a bigger frame. She was thin but had broader shoulders than I would have expected. She had long black hair and stunning cheekbones, and her makeup was perfect. She was wearing a stunning summer dress and high heels. She appeared very shy, very feminine, and very reserved.

"I am Tim. May I help you?" I asked.

"Yes, Hi." She stuttered out. "I need to change my birth certificate. How do I do that? She inquired.

During our conversation, I explained the process of changing any incorrect information on a birth certificate and inquired what was wrong with hers. She (for the remainder of the story I will refer to her as a she/her - even though it was a he), embarrassingly and shyly stated, "The sex is wrong."

"We'll, what's your name?" I asked.

"I'm Jillian Nguyen." She replied.

I asked for her driver's license, so I could go into the system to see what she was talking about. I could tell by her shaking hands that she was nervous, but after fumbling through her wallet in her purse, she handed me her State of California Driver's license. The picture on it was clearly a man, with medium-length hair, yet not as long as hers. The name on it was Jae Hwa Nguyen. The sex classification of male.

I had to ask some uncomfortable questions to her. "Were you born a male? And if so, was that designated on your birth certificate?"

"Yes, she replied. But I live as a woman now, so I need it changed for work and licensing purposes."

I could feel my face getting flushed and I knew my pulse rate increased. Here standing in front of me was a shemale, and she was looking to change all of her information from male to female. I don't know who was more nervous at that point, me, because I was talking to her, or her because she had to tell me she was a woman now and wanted her information changed.

As fumbling, mumbling, and nervous as I was, I located her original Birth Certificate and I printed out the forms she would need to make corrections. I explained to her, that the State of California was really difficult with changing sex on a birth certificate, and she might have a rough road ahead, in getting it corrected. Before we ended our conversation, I gave her every bit of information I could think of to assist her. You know the little tricks I've learned throughout my career and some (excuse the phrase) back door maneuvers I could think of so she could switch it without too many problems.

As she was leaving my counter, I called out to her and I said, "Hey, if there's anything else I can do to help here's my card."

I gave her my business card; wrote down my cell number on the back and told her, "Don't hesitate to text or call me, if you need anything."

I watched as she walked away from my desk, forms in hand and I was screaming inside for her to come back and talk further. But I was at work. This wasn't a social meeting and I surely couldn't chase a shemale out of the office in hopes she would want to talk to me anymore. As she walked through the double glass doors of our office and turned the corner, I saw her walk away and I had to get back to work.

I thought about her for the rest of the day. And truthfully over the next few days, I had hoped she would have come back into my office. Called or even texted me, but as the days passed. I heard nothing. I was disappointed because I will tell you, I went way above and beyond trying to make sure she knew I was there to help her. Give her some inside tips and tricks and was hoping, she knew I had an interest in her change. I just had hoped she would take advantage of my friendliness and openness in trying to help her and reach out. But by the start of the next week, I still hadn't heard anything and just went about my life.

However, late Tuesday evening I got a text alert on my phone while I was driving home. I don't know if some of the readers will remember, but the first generation of flip-phones, which had the capability of texting, had small screens, that were hard to read and even harder to reply to, so it waited until I got home. Once home, I realized it was a number I had not programmed in. In opening the message, I read; "Hey Tim, this is Jillian. I met you last week looking to change my birth certificate information. I hope you remember me. I submitted all the paperwork today by mail, I hope it goes through. But I wanted to thank you for all the information, the tips, and for being so kind to me at the counter. It was very comforting, that you didn't judge me"

I about shit myself. Seriously, I was like; holy fuck she texted me. I wanted to blast out a long message back, but I had to be smart about this. I knew I couldn't come right out and hit on her, or be like some drooling retard who was like, "I love shemales." I had to be smart. I sat and thought about it for a while and finally composed the best response I could.

I wrote, "Jillian, I hope all the information I provided will work for you, and I hope the State approves your changes. I have had several people come in amid their transitions, and I am very supportive of your lifestyle and who you feel you need to be. I give you credit for the change; I know it's not easy. If there's anything else you need or need someone to talk to about anything, I am here. Don't be shy."

I figured that was the best I could say without coming off as someone who wanted to fuck her. I had to be professional, honest, and compassionate, yet leave the door open for any further communication. After hitting send and knowing it went through, my heart was thumping in my chest. I felt like I had violated the rules at work. As if I had overstepped my boundaries and I hoped I didn't come off like some sissy-ass dork who was being forward or playing games. But I had sent it, so even if it appeared that way, there was nothing I could do about it now.

Her response came back in a while later and was phrased as simply as "Thank you. I appreciate it. And I will."

I couldn't tell you how badly I wanted to keep texting her. How many questions I had for her. How many things I wanted to ask her. Such examples would have been. How long as you lived as a woman? Do you have breasts? Do you date men? Are you dating anyone right now? Could I take you to dinner? The list was endless, but I surely wasn't going to push my luck, or have her call and file a complaint against me, since I was making these texts personal, instead of business-like.

I waited and wondered for days until she texted me again. During this message, she asked; "Tim, since you said you have had others ask for the same birth certificate changes, do you know if they were successful? Now I'll be the first to admit, I never had anyone come to my counter and ask me to change sex on a birth certificate. I've had requests for changes such as date or time, the spelling of a name, weight, or race. So, I had to play this right.

My answer to her was; "Jillian, I am unsure. Once the paperwork is filed, I won't be advised if the changes were approved or not. I just provide the forms needed to make the change, not whether the change actually occurs."

This time our conversation went a bit further. She asked me, how long have you worked there? Did I like my job? Does the State pay well, etc.? And I asked her a bit about herself, in the general aspect, where she worked, where she went to school, etc...

But as the days progressed and as we began texting more often, I slowly began asking more personal questions of her. And I believed she was just as interested in getting to know me more as well. It got to the point that most evenings we were texting and opening up more about ourselves and our hobbies, interests, likes and dislikes, and life in general. I finally mustered up the courage to ask if I could inquire about many of her physical aspects, during her transition. Justifying to her that I was supportive and very curious about how it went. Jillian was very open to discussing her transition from a man to a woman, so I got my chance to finally ask what I had been wanting.

In the short version, she had been transitioning since after college. She knew she liked men more than women and always felt like she was a woman. She worked as a nurse in an assisted living community and was still living at home. After saving enough money, she had breast augmentation, but still could not afford the hormone therapy (new at that time), but she grew her hair out, had friends who helped her pick out clothing, and learned how to do make-up and MOST IMPORTANTLY, she wasn't dating anyone at that time.

I did boldly ask her out for dinner, via text, something I still regret, but since we were moving along so well in our conversations, I took a chance. And, we agreed to meet. And that's where our brief, but exciting relationship started.

Our first date was set for Friday night, 7:00 P.M. at an Italian restaurant we had chosen. I arrived on time and was seated. She was 45 minutes late. As I waited, she began texting me. The first text I got was; Tim, I'm sorry. I'm running late. I'm waiting for my parents to get home. I'll be there shortly."

The second a bit later; "Sorry, I was getting into my car and ripped my dress, I had to go back in and change. I'll be there in a bit."

About 30 minutes later, the third message; "I'm on my way but traffic is jammed. Please wait for me."

Even the waiter had come to my table a few times, almost teasing me being sarcastic in his tone, asking me; "Is your date still coming?"

I almost felt like I was being stood up, and it took the wind out of my sails. I was getting up to leave, rather embarrassed that she hadn't arrived when her 4

th

text came in.

"I'm here, but I can't find anywhere to park."

I was aggravated and felt let down by having to wait so long for her to come, but I sat back down, calmed myself down, and waited. Just minutes later I saw her walking across the dining room floor, towards the table. I got up and hugged her and she must have apologized 10 times for being late. Event that sarcastic ass waiter - whose tip reflected his condescending mouth - came over and said; "Oh, you finally made it."

I was as nervous as could be because now I wasn't just texting a man, who was transitioning over to a woman. I was sitting in public with her. Now in the light of this room, for the length of time we were together sitting face-to-face, I could truly see more "manly" features on her face and hands. Anyone else who looked could see as well. I was still interested in seeing where this could go, but there was no denying, she wasn't a she. I think we were both very nervous throughout the dinner, but we made conversation and made it through without it becoming too awkward. When we finished, I walked out to her car, got a hug, and promised to chat more throughout the week. I'll spare you the lengthy detail of our conversation, because this story would be ten more pages, so on to the second date.

The second date was a bit better. She wanted Thai food, so I met her at the restaurant she chose. I think the nervousness was less intense than it had been before, but we were still a bit uneasy about being alone together. I know it was for me. Even though I wanted to date a shemale and experience dick again. There was no doubt looking at her from across the table, I could still tell it was a man's face. A man's neck. A man's arms, with hands as big as mine. Even if she could pass herself off as being a woman at work with elderly patients who couldn't see her distinct features. I could. And I guess at the time it mattered. But, it didn't. Our second date ended similarly, I walked her to her car, but this time after the hug, I got a small kiss on my cheek, but it went no further.

I know you must be asking yourselves if you could tell and it bothered you, why did you continue to see her? Well....

I thought she was beautiful. Even though she wasn't born a female, she did an excellent job trying to be one. She had deep brown eyes and was always trying to speak in a feminine voice. Jillian seemed very personable, very caring, very honest, and didn't appear to be playing the field. And through it all, she was very open about her transition. In the dark recesses of my mind, dating a "man" scared me. But it also excited me. I wanted to see a real dick again. I was fascinated by shemales. I wanted to give head again. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to fuck her. I knew what I was getting into. This wasn't going to be some deep make-out session where I'd be surprised when I discovered her dick. I ran it through my head feverishly. Tits or not. Long hair or not. Painted fingernails or not. Women's clothing or not, there was still a dick between those legs. Albeit a dick I wanted to see, but, a dick nonetheless, and if I had my chance, I was going to find out if it's what I wanted in life.

Many nights of polar thought swings. On one hand, I thought, I wanted that dick. I wanted to see it and suck it. I wanted to know what it was like in this type of relationship. But would I be ready enough to continue dating and then become very open and honest with friends and family? On the opposite end of that; I would be dating a man! And if it developed into a relationship, then it wouldn't be a fling or some one-night stand. I would be sucking dick every time we made love. That was scary. Moreover, how would my friends and family react to that? All questions that time would have to solve.

But our conversations that night and following text communications with her developed into deeper, more meaningful, evolving interests and I just kept going for it.

Our third date was ice cream and miniature golf. It was so much fun. We met later than usual and went to one of the recreational parks LA has to offer. We sat and ate some ice cream on the park bench just outside the golfing area. We had such a great time talking and just being out in the cooler evening air. She was wearing a light, free-flowing knee-length dress, that had shoulder straps. Her tits were bulging under the material because the top was tighter than the bottom. We went into the golf park and played 18 holes of mini-golf and even though I could tell she was a man; I was actually more relieved being out with her that night than I ever had before. We laughed, we giggled, we hugged, we cheered each other on. But, at times, we tried to make each other miss the putt, on the putting green. It was so enjoyable. By the time we left, it was pitch dark and she had parked closer to the entrance than I had.

Jillian offered me a ride to my car and I accepted. She drove across the parking lot to where I parked my car, backed in, rolled down the windows, and shut the car off. We were just sitting there talking and laughing about the shitty game we both had just played when she started telling me about a crazy patient they deal with frequently and before her story was over, we were both laughing so hard, we were crying. I placed my hand on top of hers as she rested her arm on the armrest and I cupped her fingers inside of mine.