We met online. I didn't know much about her at first, just her name and what she didn't like. I knew about that because of all the time wasters that sent her cock pics. She was transitioning, but people didn't treat her like a girl. She was just a name on a screen to wank at. A vessel. She liked that we'd stopped talking about sex a few weeks ago, now it was just everything else.
Still, it was a sex forum. Our likes did overlap. Maybe something would happen, maybe not, it wasn't about that. She wanted to be a girl. Wanted to be feminine. Wanted the romance that she'd never had. I got that. Who didn't crave affection?
She sent me an intimate picture once, her pretty little cock wrapped up in a pink silk bow. She didn't want to be humiliated, or used. But she wanted me to know what she was, what she needed to be.
I didn't send her a picture of my cock back, I just told her how beautiful she was.
"So," she wrote, "if we went on a date, how would it go?"
I told her about meeting her, kissing her cheek, holding her hand as we went for a walk.
"Wouldn't you be worried, if people saw us?"
"No," I said, "I'd be showing you off."
I said I'd take her to dinner. We'd talk some more. More importantly I'd get to know her more. Then we would do what she wanted. I could walk her to her hotel, kiss her on the cheek and say goodnight.
"What if I wanted you to come inside?"
"I'd love to."
"So you can fuck me?"
"If that's what you wanted. I'd like to make love to you. Slowly." I typed nervously. "I would kiss every inch of you, find every sweet spot that made you hum in happiness. I would worship you and make you feel like the most loved woman on earth."
I hoped it wasn't too strong. But I meant it. It's funny how over the top things can sound when you're earnest. She paused, then replied. "I'd like to meet you. I'm just scared. So many guys don't treat people like me well. I've had more bad experiences than good ones. By far."
"Give me a try. Please."
It was a week later when we met outside the station. She immediately caught my breath. Everything about her was so feminine, so soft. Shoulder length blonde hair. Green dress, tight enough to be curvy, but far from revealing anything. Her soft lips. She looked nervous, so I smiled.
I had the impression people had made her feel like an imitation of a woman. A freak. I wanted to put her at ease at once. We embraced lightly, exchanging pleasantries. I kissed her cheek. "You look lovely," I said it gently. Nothing carnal, nothing flirty. Just an observation that one friend might make to another.
The smile she gave back to me was adorably awkward. She wanted to be flattered, but her guard was still up.
"Is it Poppy?" I asked, careful to respect what name she wanted to go by. I knew it was sensitive for her. She'd called it the biggest, most personal piece of becoming a puzzle.
"Yes. Thanks. Still Joe, right?"
I had gone by Captain Cock on the forum, God knows why, but I had told her my real name early on. "That's me. Got demoted."
She laughed. I offered her my hand and she took it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you at last," I told her.
Her smile stayed on her face as we walked to the row of cabs. I noticed her tense as we got inside. Always she seemed guarded. What if the driver noticed something? Laughed? Got angry?
He was more likely to be jealous than anything else. She looked impeccable. But I could understand her concern. It can't have been easy.
We drove to the restaurant, talking idly about little things. The train. The weather. The news. We were skirting around anything personal until we were alone.
One thing I couldn't help but notice, she was wearing bright pink stockings. They stood out a little with the darker dress, and I wondered about the choice. She caught me looking and smiled, a little impishly. It wasn't until we were walking into the restaurant that I remembered one of our early exchanges. How I had first found a picture of her online, posing with those stockings. Her lithe smooth body poured into electric pink socks. She'd been posting on a fetish forum, looking for friends as much as validation. My first comment to her, privately, was about her pink stockings. How I would have liked to run my hands up them. Not the most romantic beginning, but lust often precedes deeper things. I winced a little, but then I realised she had worn them playfully, perhaps flirtatiously. When she next looked at me I grinned. We sat and were alone. "Nice stockings," I said.
"You remember them?"
"How could I forget?" I tried to remember exactly those early conversations. They had been more erotic. I had talked about her skin, her clothes, not her.
"You had a bit of a kink," she was smiling, mischievously.
I smiled awkwardly. "You looked as good then as you do now."
She pulled a face, but laughed. Her voice was soft. We had talked over the phone a couple of times, but I only saw now how her face lit up when she laughed. My trousers began to feel a little tight, and I shifted uneasily in my seat. God. I had never been with someone like her. She excited me so much. I had to temper those thoughts though. She was more than some fantasy. She had become my friend. Hopefully she might be more. If not, well, I had still found an astounding person to know.
A waiter brought us wine and we ordered food. The people around us passed in a blur. I saw Poppy looking around, as if anxious to find that someone was staring at her. I couldn't tell, I was only looking at her.
"It's ok," I said, soft enough that only she could hear. Her head whipped around to me, she seemed embarrassed. "No one's looking. Except me. And if they were, you're just a hot girl rocking a nice dress dining with a guy who's punching up. If anything they'd be staring at me."
She seemed to fully relax for the first time, I saw a change in how she was holding herself, as if there was something permanently defensive. "Sorry. And don't do that. Joke about yourself. You're not bad."
"Oh really?"
I felt her leg brush mine under the table- My mouth hung open for a second, and I gave her a big smile.
Our food came, and we ate. Conversation flowed well, easily. We were still talking about inane things, but we were so relaxed with each other that it felt different. If felt like we were sharing things. Probing how each other was feeling. Her leg continued to brush lightly against mine, and I got hard before I could control it. I saw her smile as she saw me shifting.
"Alright?"
"Leg's gone stiff." If I was trying to flirt, I sucked.
She smiled hugely. "Sure it's your leg?"
I laughed. "Um. Let's just say it is."
She sipped at her glass of wine. Her leg was back, rubbing a little higher now. Her eyes were light blue. "You're cute when you squirm." Her voice had a little catch in it. Was I turning her on?
