He'd had beads inserted into his penis. When he showed it to me later, I was struck by the ordinariness of it. His penis was short and stump with these tiny sperical objects sticking out at odd intervals. Immediately, I could tell why he needed to adorn his dick with jewelry. Obviously he wanted something more than it could offer. "It enhances the sensation" he said with a smile and I smiled back, more out of politeness than anything. The color of his dick was pretty though. Reddish brown. Slightly darker than the rest of him. It brought to mind ovaltine and for that reason I wanted to taste it. I decided to call him "bumpy" and no, the beads didn't enhance a thing. Bumpy was alright in the sack, though "doggy-style" was certainly his piece de resistance.
Let me say a thing or two about doggy-style. One: rarely do I say "doggy-style" out loud without dissolving into a fit of giggles. It's just such a silly name and belies the seriousness of the act. Two: In my former life, I hated this position. It just seemed too vulnerable of a state to be in. Getting down on all fours, and allowing someone else to see all into your asscrack. My middle-class demure upbringing just wouldn't let me get into it! This was of course back when I set way too many boundaries around my sexuality, or rather when I allowed social norms to dictate how and when I should fuck. Well, here I am years later and I have to say "doggy" or "down on all fours" has become one of my faves. Not only does it make it easier for my g-spot to be stimulated, it also is just erotic as hell when a guy hangs onto my waist or my ass for leverage and pounds my ass. There's something so primal about the position which also adds to the appeal of it. And whatever Bumpy lacked in dick girth, he certainly made up in motion. Yeah, there may be a thing or two to that "motion in the ocean" adage.
Bumpy and I rendezvous-ed twice, which is my limit with most men I sleep with. I rarely ever cross over into thrice or we may as well be dating. I don't do "regular fucks". I figure if I've reached that level with a dude, then there had better be more than just fucking going on. In other words, I tend to get attached. It's the way I'm made up. Anyway, Bumpy and I did our thing twice and the 2nd time was even hotter. He hosted this time and his roommate, the ex-girlfriend (or so I was told), was out doing god knows what. He invited me into his giant soft bed and proceeded to lick the hell out of my pussy. That-is-what-I-am-talking-about. I may have said that out loud, in between bellows of "yes" and "god" and "I'm gonna cum". Yeah, it was good that 2nd time.
And there would have been a 3rd time if he hadn't gone and freaked out over the trans bit. By fuck session number 2 I'd started experiencing all the usual changes trans dudes experience. I don't know who he thought he was screwing. He must have blocked out the "I'm a trans dude" portion of our introduction. For some reason he'd look at the hair growing on my chin and chest, hear my deep voice, and still refer to me as "ma". After the umpteenth time of this I had to remind him. Well, lets just say, my usual "I'm a dude with a vag" shpiel is a bit of a mind fuck for people who aren't in the know. I understand that. After all, we all grow up hearing and believing so many untruths about gender. Hell, I hardly know what it is any more. I'm a patient dude. I can wait for you to have your epiphany and realize that actually there isn't a lot about gender that's set in stone or genetically predetermined. I do draw the line at pretending though. If you're turned on by this here trans boy and we're going to fuck, you'd better face up to what you're desiring. Bumpy couldn't, or rather, he wouldn't. Goodbye Bumpy!