Double Desperation

1

There are two states of sexual desperation: one you are aware of; and one you have repressed. In the first case you probably know what you need, but in the second that awareness may also be partly or wholly repressed.

During the recent lockdowns I reflected there must have been thousands of individuals enduring acute frustration, separated from a partner, or unable to seek one and forced to rely on solitary solace, and I recalled an instance of both desperations about fifteen years ago.

2

It began with a phone call one June from a woman saying she'd been given my number by someone who suggested I might help with some problem in her daughter's life. She was embarrassed about approaching a stranger, but determined to do so from concern for the girl's welfare. She said nothing about it beyond implying it related to the sexual orientation issue. I took the hint that her offspring had progressed some, or all, of the way, through transition, with troublesome results. Distance was no obstacle, and a date was fixed.

I was looking out of the window at the time appointed, to get an initial impression as a smart, upmarket car drew onto my drive and the pair got out. They were dressed alike in blouse and skirt, and I couldn't discern which was which, because the driver was facing away and bending to slip off her shoes, and the other was crouching to help her put on sandals. It was evident, however, that both were generously bottomed. And when they stood and turned it was clear they were also well bosomed.

There was a charming moment, when each reached up the other's skirt to pull down the blouse within the skirt waistband, and there was a brief glimpse of what was surely the mother's blue knickers in some mixed, ribbed fabric.

When I opened the door I could separate them as they stood holding hands, as if facing some ordeal. They were dark haired and hazel-eyed, crow's feet and a few lines identifying the mother. Both taller than me, the mother slightly the taller and broader. They unclasped hands to introduce themselves as Brenda, mother, and Andrea. They were gazing at me intently, probably anxious about the fulfilment of their mission.

I welcomed them, offered coffee and biscuits, and we settled in my sitting-room, the two of them on the settee, opposite me in an armchair. I cut through small-talk, and invited them to explain how I might be able to help. They looked at each other a moment, then Brenda began, 'My husband died when Andrea...well, she was Andrew then...was just a toddler...we were very close, always have been. I knew Andy wasn't like other boys. Didn't like football or rough games...wanted to play with girls, dressing up...in girls' clothes...'

Andrea broke in, 'She got worried when she saw me dancing about in Doreen's knickers, but hoped it was just kids playing about.'

Brenda resumed, 'I wondered if it was because there was no male role-model... only ever seeing me dressed and undressed...doing women's things...I thought maybe we shouldn't be sharing a bed, as we'd done since Frank died. And perhaps I should have stopped the breast-feeding sooner...'

Andrea commented quietly, 'I've told her so often it wasn't anything to do with her. It was just how I was. I felt I was a girl. But it was hard at primary school. The boys teased me for playing with the girls...skipping and hop-scotch...and so on.'

Brenda went on, 'Then comprehensive school...and puberty...they had a sex-education programme, about development, and periods and sex, though I'd told her all that.'

'I was unhappy and angry,' Andrea said. 'I wanted to have breasts and periods, and I was kind of jealous of the girls, and of Bren, too, in a way.'

I asked, 'How did you handle the situation?'

'He started wearing my knickers, till I got him some of his own.'

'Of course, I didn't wear them on PE days. And I decided I was just a different kind of girl. I decided my penis was just a big clitoris.'

Brenda went on, 'After that he tried not to think about it anymore, I think. He concentrated on school-work, studying hard for the exams. He was especially interested in art, partly because it was part of how we were making a living. I was running a little travel agency arranging holidays for people going to museums and galleries at home and abroad.'

Andrea said, 'Have you noticed how vague the gendering is in most nudes? The women have small breasts, and no body-hair or slits, and the cocks and nipples are tiny. Half the figures look like they're transitioning,'

'Yes, I said, 'I've studied art a bit myself. The ones which do have definite gender are striking, like 'The Rokeby Venus' and 'The Naked Maia.' And Courbet's 'The Origin of the World,' with that great hairy pussy, is still nearly as startling as it was then first shown.'

Brenda remarked, 'It was one of your artists who told me about you. She specialises in sexing up the classic nudes, putting in all the details Andrea just mentioned.'

'Oh, yes,' I said, 'Julia. I got her to make me some copies. You'll see one later.'

Andrea said. 'I could imagine myself in those pictures, as if the artist was painting me as one of those half-grown cupids with little clits and round bums.'

Brenda added, 'We have dozens of art-books and there's such a lot available on the internet, but I was worried that he was living in a fantasy world.'

Silence. We'd come to a crucial moment, and they were wondering how to go on.

3

Brenda said, 'Everything changed at eighteen. She got me to lie on the bed, legs apart, to see just what a woman looked like. She said the internet wasn't real. And from now on she was going to be Andrea and "she," and dress as a girl, because she'd left school and was grown up, and was soon going to start a new life at university.'

'What did you think about that?' I asked.

'I could see she needed to do it,' Brenda said, 'And I wanted her to do anything that made her happier. And she started being...sexual.'

'She means I began masturbating,' Andrea said, 'Of course, I'd known about it for a long time, but I hadn't done it while I was trying to ignore sex. From seeing myself in those paintings, I imagined myself as a girl with a special clitoris that could come spermy stuff.'

Brenda said, 'She didn't make any secret of it, as if she wanted me to see. We'd never been modest with each other, walking about naked, and I'd shown her everything, after all I had the idea that our being naked might help her get sorted out about her sexuality, if she saw how I was a female and she was a boy, and I didn't want her feeling ashamed or unable to talk about anything. But I'd come into the bathroom and find her doing it into the basin, or she'd come in while I was in the bath and do it onto me.'

There was another silence and I considered offering an interpretation, but held my peace until Andrea whispered, 'You didn't understand, then, that I wanted you to do it'

Brenda turned and took Andrea in her arms. 'Oh, darling,' she said, 'I'm so sorry I didn't realise Why didn't you tell me?

'You had to know without me telling, and I was afraid you'd be shocked.'

'I probably would've been, but I'd have got past that. You know I'd do anything for you, anything at all.'

'Well, there's no problem about it now.' Andrea told me.

There was another silence, while they realised how intimate their revelations to a stranger had become. It was a moment to pause and let them catch up with themselves, so to speak, and I offered more coffee.

Brenda asked the way to the toilet. Andrea looked a little woebegone, so I stood, drew her to her feet, embraced her and said, 'It's going to be all right, you know.'

She was trembling and on the verge of tears. 'How can you be sure? You don't know what the problem is yet.'

'You just told me,' I said.

'No, that's not it. That was in the past.'

'It isn't,' I said. 'But you're going to tell the rest, and then...'

'So, if you know, can you help me?'

'Help you both, I believe.'

'What's in it for you, though,' she said, almost crossly.

In answer I reached down her back and gathered up her skirt to stroke her bottom, unhindered because she was wearing a thong. She trembled harder and I said, 'I'm going to see this properly soon, aren't I? So, I felt like a little anticipation.'

'Two can do that,' she said, getting a hand down the back of my knickers, but going further by sliding it round my cheek into my fuzz. 'Ah, you're wet. Do you want to fuck me?'

'Of course, I do,' I said, '...Eventually.'

We stood like that, holding, until Brenda re-entered. 'Oh,' she said, 'Sorry. I'll leave you to it.'

'No,' I said, 'You mustn't go.'

Andrea and I released each other and sat down again. 'Please continue,' I said.

Brenda sat and said, 'I was miserable when she went to university. It was the first time we'd been apart, and I missed her terribly. But I was glad she had this chance to start again, to try and find herself as a person, and as a girl, since that's what she wanted.'

'Another world,' Andrea said. 'You could do and be anything you wanted.'

'When she came home she really looked like a girl...undeveloped, but female.'

'I've always had a big bum, which was one reason I felt I was a girl, and I'd learned to dress to show it off, like in tight jeans, so people looked at that and not my chest.'

'She brought home this girl-friend called Willa...I thought at first she was trans, originally "William," but I soon found out otherwise, because they made love all over the house, not just in bed, and didn't seem to mind if I saw them.'

'We didn't mind. In fact, we wanted you to see how happy we were together. Willa wanted you to join in, actually.'

'She was a lovely girl,' Brenda said.

'Her bum was even bigger than mine, yes, but she said it gave me plenty to hold onto when we were fucking.'

'You were certainly noisy about it,' Brenda said.

'We were coming a lot. She liked me because she was finding out about sex, and I wasn't like the boys who just wanted to get inside her for their own pleasure. And I loved her, and I was finding out about how to make love to a woman.'

I asked, 'Did you come inside her?'

'Oh, yes She was on the pill. But I didn't feel like a boy doing it. I felt like a girl who had a long clit and could go into women. And I could give her orgasms with my fingers and mouth. She had beautiful breasts, and I sucked them.'

Brenda had possibly not had this stated so explicitly, but I noted that her eyes were shining, and she was breathing a little, becoming aroused.

I said, 'I assume the relationship with Willa ended.'

'She came out as a lesbian, and wanted tit and cunt. I was miserable for a while. I missed the friendship, the cuddling and the sex, because I'd had great orgasms, too. But I knew she had to follow her nature, and was glad I'd been able to help her find her way.'

This was, I felt, the time to call a break, because we were at the penultimate stage of the story, approaching the problem. So, I served a light lunch in the kitchen, and we talked of art and the history of the nude as a genre, and of their travel agency and its packages.

4

After we'd returned to the sitting-room with more coffee I asked Andrea, 'I'm glad Willa found her way, but what about you finding your way?'

'I decided I ought to find out about men. I was at university, after all, where you're supposed to improve your knowledge, do research, extend your experience. But no heterosexual man was going to be interested in me. The only way I could be with a boy was to be gay. I didn't much like the idea, and I was scared, but the experiment had to be tried.'

'You had no difficulty in attracting a gay partner?'

'I was lucky to find this man called Gerald. He was kind and patient. He didn't even mind when I told him I was exploring my sexuality by sleeping with him.'

'Did you enjoy him?'

'Yes. He was good company, very clever, I learned a lot with him academically, and he broke me in gently. I was a virgin, after all, though I'm not sure he realised I felt I was a girl losing my virginity with him up my arse. At first we kissed and cuddled. Then we sucked and tossed each other off. I think he'd learned that expression at his public school. He taught me ways to masturbate, myself and others. But I knew eventually he'd want to bonk my bum, and though I was scared I wanted him to. I had to know about it.'

'Did you want to penetrate him, too?'

'Yes. I wanted to know about that, and he wanted me to do it. I couldn't deny him.'

Brenda chipped in, 'She brought him home, too, and he was a lovely boy, well, young man, as he was a postgrad. He was charming, with beautiful manners. Of course, I knew what they were doing, because, as with Willa, they made no secret of it. I'm not sure if it was deliberate or not, but she left the bedroom door ajar one night and I saw them. They were kneeling on the bed with him inside her.'

'We weren't ashamed, and I've never had secrets from Bren.'

'Except not saying you wanted me to masturbate you when you started,' Brenda said.

'Well, I wanted you to put me into Willa, too, but I couldn't tell Willa that.'

I suggested, 'She'd probably have gone along with it, since she was experiment, too.'

A question occurred to Brenda. 'Did you want me there with Gerald?'

'Yes, and he was so polite I'm sure he'd have obliged.'

'You had sex with him inside you, then. Did you like it?'

'It hurt at first, but I got used to it, and I liked it when we were face-to-face with inside me and tossing me off. I was a girl, with a man doing my clit till it came.'

'And came inside him?'

'I quite liked it, but that was partly because I was imagining I was coming in a girl. It wasn't quite right, though, because I knew what it felt like coming inside a girl from Willa. But it was useful, because I found out that was what I really wanted, to be a woman coming inside a woman.'

'Did you tell Brenda?' I asked.

Brenda answered, 'That was when I realised what she'd want and need to do next.'

I waited and Andrea said it. 'I'd known since I was eighteen and now I was in my third year at university, and I was sure. I wanted to transition.'

'And I encouraged her to do a further degree, part-time, at home, while she took the hormone course. It was expensive, but she worked as a courier for the firm, so that could pay her for taking the clients to the galleries. And I borrowed against the business. Never mind how much it cost.'

'The result is spectacular,' I said. 'She's beautiful.'

'Big bum and all,' Andrea said.

'Well, you know what I think about that,' I said.

'She got it from me originally,' Brenda said.

'And the original is lovely, too,' I said, 'But now we're getting to the point, aren't we? What did you study?'

'Art history, of course. I wrote a dissertation on images of the nude in relation to the social context and sexual mores of the time, with discussion of how far the images could be considered pornographic.'

'You completed the hormone course, too, and the next decision was whether or not to undergo the surgery. And I think I know the answer.'

Andrea spoke crossly again. 'You've been up my skirt so of course you know.'

'No,' I said, 'If you remember I only stroked your bottom.'

'All right, I didn't have the surgery.'

A further silence, then Brenda said, 'She's a transwoman who wants to make love with women.'

'But it's difficult to find partners?' I asked. 'There are dating websites.'

'I've tried them a few times, but...well, it's a bit of a lottery, and there's a lot of faking and scamming, and if I do get to fuck...'

Yet more silence. Brenda put an arm round her, as she muttered, 'I can't come.'

'It's not the hormones, because...well, we know she can...come.'

'Because now you can help her,' I said.

'Yes, nowadays I do it for her.'

Now Andrea was keen to explain. 'We sleep together again, and she pulls me off...'

'Or,' Brenda said, 'She goes between my bottom.'

'I love to come between her cheeks. I tell her I want to come in mum-bum.'

'But you don't go inside?'

'That would be wrong, wouldn't?' Brenda said, 'Incest.'

'Is it incest if a transwoman comes up her mother's bottom?' I asked.

Brenda said, 'I don't know, but probably.'

'Does it matter. Who'd know?'

Brenda looked doubtful and a sad, pleading look came over Andrea's face, unseen by Brenda. There was a secret here not told, though it was plain to me.

'That's the problem, then,' I said. 'How do you think I can solve it?'

Brenda said, 'Julia told us you're a kind woman who helps people with sexual difficulties, and we feel you might be able to, don't we, Anda?'

'Well, yes. It's a service one human being can offer another, if that doesn't sound too detached. I love sex and want everyone to be able to have it and love it, too.'

'And you'll do it with Andrea?' Brenda said.

'I'd love to. She knows I'm gooey in the gusset already.'

'Tell us what to do,' Andrea said.

'Come upstairs' I said.

'Brenda said, 'Both of us?'

'Yes,' I said, 'Both. That's vital.'

5

In my bedroom, after the towels on the bed, the first thing they noticed, on the wall opposite, was Julia's version of Bronzino's 'Venus and Cupid Allegory of Time.' One of the most erotic, incestuous, pictures ever painted. Look it up on the internet. Venus is sitting with shadow at the top of her closed thighs, hinting at hair. Cupid isn't a little cherub: he's a late adolescent, standing on his mother's right, twisting his body, sticking out his bottom, to be able to kiss her and hold her left breast. All his cheeks are smooth and his face girlish.

Andrea said, 'I could have written a thesis just on depictions of Venus and Cupid. They're full of kissing and tits and bum. Of course, I identify with this Cupid. It looks like a transgirl, don't you think, waving her arse about?'

'What do you think of Julia's version?' I asked.

They studied the painting. Brenda said, 'Look at that. The Cupid's squeezing a drop of milk out of that breast.'

Andrea said, 'Venus has a pussy, there's a little trail of vagina-juice on her thigh, and Cupid's been slightly turned towards us, to show the erection, with a droplet on the tip..'

'She painted a sequel,' I said, 'Without any help from Bronzino, but I don't have a copy. Cupid is definitely trans, with nice breasts and she's half way into her mum.'

Andrea said she needed the bathroom and went. Brenda said, 'Why am I here? I don't need help.'

I took her in my arms, which startled her, and said, 'Yes, you do, and Anrea needs you.' I reached a hand down and ran it up her thighs. She flinched but said nothing. 'And here's a clue,' I said. 'I'm not the only one damp in the knicker department.'

'All that talking about sex, bottoms and coming...'

'You made love with Julia, didn't you?'

'How do you know? She told you.'

'No. I just know she wouldn't miss the chance to enjoy a sexy woman like you.'

'She's one of our couriers, too. Women book again and again for her tours Do you want to make love to me?' she asked.

'I certainly do.'

'Do we have to do that for you to be able to do it with Andrea?'

'If that was so, would you go along with it?'

'Of course. You know I'll do anything to help her.'

'When she comes in your crack don't you want her to make you come, too?'

'So, so much...'

'Why don't you ask her to. You know she'd love to.'

'But it would be wrong for the daughter to give the mother an orgasm.'

'Even if they both wanted that very much?'

'Well, I don't know. I just thought...'

'Have you come since Julia?'

'No. Well, I sometimes do myself, when Andrea's gone to sleep.'