"Ooooo-oo, nice!"
Nick's pants were off and his itchy fingers were at the thin waistband of his microfiber panty, about to pull it down. "You want me to leave it on?" he asked.
"For now, yes," his host replied. The man was advancing toward Nick and his outstretched right hand slid under panty's silky narrow crotch, caressing Nick's pair of little balls. The hand then rose up over the bulge in panty's vee-front.
"Nice," he once again said. It was more of an exhale, actually. "I LOVE crossdressers."
"I wish I'd known," Nick said, as the hand continued its caress. "I would've worn stockings as well."
"Too bad you don't have tits," the same hand now rising up to squeeze Nick's flattish left one. "Then you'd be the complete package."
Men are never satisfied, Nick stood there thinking. It's not enough I came over to this guy's house to suck his cock and take it up my ass. Now he wants a she-male. And if I was a she-male he'd want--
"You got a wig and all that?" the man now asked.
Nick nodded. "Yes. Wig, make up kit, bra, shoes--"
"You don't need a bra."
"No, well...it's more for the effect. If you're dressing up and all."
"You dress up like that often?" the hand back at Nick's silk-slippery penis and balls again.
"Sometimes. When I dance at the club and all..."
"You dance at a club?" The man sounded astonished. A club? Nick? At his age?
"On Crossdressers Night," Nick replied. "And sometimes when I fill in for the regular dancer. But then I only wear panties and thigh-highs. And my wig and make up," he added. "It takes twentyfive years off my life. Most guys think I'm in my thirties..."
"Where's this club?" the man asked.
"A gay bar, actually. It's near my house."
"I'd like to see that sometime. You, up on stage."
"It's kind of hit and miss when I fill in for the regular dancer. A last-minute kind of thing. On Crossdressers Night I don't really get up and dance. I give lapdances, though."
Nick's host gave the former's balls a squeeze. "You're kind of lacking in this department," he said.
And Nick's left arm elevated in involuntary gesture. "Does it really matter?"
"It won't when you're on your hands and knees in front of me," the man said, with a laugh.
Nick was self-conscious about two things. His ass--which was on the flat side; and the size of his balls. Before he began sleeping around with other men he always thought his testicles were about average in size. Maybe not a five on a scale of 10, but definitely a four. Maybe even a 4.5. But these days he wasn't so sure.
Some of the guys he'd been with, like this one today, had balls twice the size of his own. Meaning one of their dangling balls was equivalent to both of Nick's. It was a little embarrassing. And was that why he liked dressing in women's underwear and being effeminate? Was that why he liked taking it up the ass?
Nick reached out. He wanted to change the subject--sort of. "You have a nice pair," he told his host. The man's balls were shaved smooth, like his own. His sack was much thicker, however. Positively leathery.
The thinness of Nick's sack was another issue. He occasionally hung weights from his balls, to try to stretch them. But with such a thin sack there was not much material to work with. Nick's former shrink had told him once that ball-stretching was a form of surrogate--
"And a FULL pair," the man said. "I've been saving it up for you."
"Good. I like it when a man shoots a big load in me."
"You bottom often?"
Nick was still gently fondling the man's balls. They were a real handful. "It's been a while," he replied. "A few months..."
"You make your tops wear condoms?"
Nick hesitated. "Yes," he lied. Almost never had Nick insisted one of his tops wear a condom. And one of the few times he did, Frank, who for a while was his regular Saturday sex partner (Frank didn't like shows of affection, or terms like "lover"), in the middle of topping Nick the first time, pulled the thing off and tossed it aside. And ended up barebacking Nick and shooting his load in him. That was the first and last time Nick asked Frank to wear a condom.
"I don't wear the things," Nick's host declared dismissively. "I'm healthy, so..."
"So am I," Nick hastened to say.
"The first time I had anal sex," the man went on to say, "was with my ex-wife. She hated it. Said she never wanted to do it again.
"I loved it, however. An ass, a rectum is so much smoother than a vagina. And tighter. Especially after a woman's had a couple of kids..."
"And you can't get pregnant," Nick threw out.
"No," the laughing man agreed. "You can't."
Nick pulled his hand back from the man's balls and, like his counterpart, let his arms hang now at his sides. He could've used a drink, though his host hadn't offered him one.
"You gonna suck my balls?"
Nick swallowed. "Right now?"
"No. Later. When you're down on your knees." He went on: "I like it when a guy takes each of my balls in his mouth and gently sucks 'em. One then the other. But you have to be gentle."
"Of course," Nick agreed, shifting his weight.
"I kind of wish you were wearing a wig..."
Actually there was a third thing Nick was self-conscious about. His balding head. It was amazing what a platinum-blonde page-boy wig, a little make up and ruby-red lipstick could do for a man Nick's age. Combined with a youthful, slender body, a completely shaved one, these thing conspired, so to speak, to make him appear young again. Turn him into a thirty-something year old once more. The transition was amazing.
A young guy at the club one night, his arm around Nick's bare waist, said to him: "What? Are you, like, twenty-something?" And Nick blushed. A prideful blush. He didn't try to dissuade the guy from his illusion.
The man looked down. He had an erection. "The ED drug's kicked in," he observed. And Nick one again reached out, this time putting his hand around the thick thing.
"Viagra?" he wondered.
"No. Some herbal thing from China or someplace. Takes about 30 minutes to kick in. Turns me," he laughed, "into an 18-year old again."
