Submissive by nature

The chemistry was unfathomable and entirely unexpected. But it was explosive and I could not ignore it. Only a fool does that.

The event was Femmes Read Porn, hosted by the always stunning Ms Tralala. I had come to see her, that sexy beast, and to meet Elaine Miller, my favourite local sex writer. To help out, I ran a kissing booth beside the unused pool table. I was all dolled up in my sexy lingerie and looked at least somewhat presentable, if not downright cute.

I had expected a friend to join me for the evening and frequently went outside to see if she’d arrived. She never did show up but during one of my checks, I met her.

Now I stress the word “her” because that’s the most direct way I can think of to convey the effect she had on me. I casually reminded her and the other girls having their smoke breaks of the kissing booth. She replied by smiling mischievously and kissing me on the cheek, raving over my lingerie ensemble and telling me I was exuding sexiness.

My cheeks flushed and I felt my ego swelling. Among other things.

I smiled shyly and returned to my booth.

I sat listening to the music, watching everyone dance and waiting for the first reader to take the stage at 10 pm. Then she seemed to just suddenly appear before me. It was her.

She smiled at me almost lewdly and said nothing for a moment, just swayed to the music.

She was a stunning soft butch, in her sweater that said “Lust” and her faded blue jeans. She dug into her pocket for two loonies, which she dropped into my tip glass with a satisfying clink. She told me point blank she’d come for her kiss.

I smiled and leaned forward, expecting to kiss her on the cheek. She forcibly took hold of my chin and pulled my lips to hers.

I instinctively succumbed. I could do nothing else. I am by nature submissive and rarely receive such attention from women, being a shemale and all.

This was not a problem with her. She knew what I was. Most of the Lick regulars do. I’ve never seen any point in lying about what I am.

I am a girl with a permanent strap-on.

And she didn’t care in the slightest.

She lingered for a moment, her lips a scant distance from mine, her breath caressing my neck. Then smiling, she dove in, kissing me as fiercely and deeply as ever I had been kissed.

Her tongue ring played chopsticks on my teeth from the inside. Her tongue fought to pin mine down. Her teeth bit my lower lip and tugged it into her mouth. I felt my breath being forcibly sucked from my lungs and my breasts seemed to be trying to turn themselves upwards, hoping to catch the attention of her hands.

I had no sense of time until she pulled her lips away and slapped my left cheek, hard.

The quick and unexpected sting sent a jolt of ecstasy firing down my spine and I teetered on the brink of an orgasm.

She seemed all too aware of this. As I sat there quivering, biting my lip, my eyes pleading, she suddenly reached her hand behind my head. Bringing my face back to hers, she grabbed a big clump of my hair and tugged it, hard.

I came right there in her hand. I felt my body convulse beneath her, surrounded by friends and strangers in the bar, completely oblivious to whether or not any of them saw me.

As my body settled down, she smiled and wandered off.

The evening’s French Maid sat by me and smiled. I must have been glowing, because she knew exactly what had happened.

“Should I watch your tip glass while you go freshen up, honey?” she asked coyly.

I looked down at my lap and then at the seven feet between me and the washroom, crossed my legs and smiled up at her nervously.

“I’m in a lesbian bar, dear,” I replied. “I really don’t think I should stand up just now.”

I think the next time I attend one of Tralala’s events, I shall make it a point to wear tighter panties. Then if she is there again I won’t need to sit with my legs crossed uncomfortably for 15 minutes before feeling safe enough to dart to the washroom to clean up after her kisses.

Then again, I think next time I’ll bring her in there with me.