XChange Confessions 2

by Gillian Hampton

  I turned to go to the bathroom and got hit with a wall of guilt. Eric is 6’ 4”, that couch would be too uncomfortable for him. He was a good guy and when he got his look, he stepped away. I put on the T-shirt I brough to sleep in, now too large for me, and opened the door.

  Sure enough, he was fidgeting trying to get comfortable.

  “C’mon, let’s just share the bed. It’s a King so we probably won’t even tough each other.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, c’mon before I change my mind.”

  He stood and entered the bedroom. “Thank you. You’re a great friend.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. It was strangely enduring. I looked up at him as he stood up straight. Our eyes met. My lips parted to speak, but no words came out.

  Before I knew it, he was kissing me. I was kissing back. Our bodies pressed together. He lifted me and laid me on the bed. My lips parted more, and our tongues danced. His hands explored my body as I ran my fingers through his hair.

  He stopped kissing me and started taking off my T-Shirt. I let him. His expert hands then removed my bra. Two, strong man hands groped and squeezed and tweaked nipples. I moaned in delight as his lips found a nipple and he started sucking. One and then the other. I squirmed beneath him.

  His hands left my breasts to slide down the sides of my tummy to my waist. He pulled off my panties, leaving the garter belt and thigh highs. “God your legs look amazing.” He said.

  They felt amazing as he touched them. The warmth of his hands through the nylons against my skin. He gently lowered me to the bed and explored my body. “I’ve always been a leg man,” he said as he kissed my left one. His hand moved down to my foot. “…you’ve got the best I think I’ve ever seen.”

  I lay all the way back on the bed. This was heaven as he massaged and kissed down one leg and up the other. I had always heard him talk about the women he slept with. I knew he liked to be in charge. I never expected him to be gentle. I felt his lips at the top of the nylon part of my thigh highs. Then the lace top. Then my bare thigh. I spasmed. He continued his trek and soon I felt his breath on my slit as he paused. He was taking deep breaths through the nose and exhaling across my clit. “You smell incredible.”

  “Thank you.” Was all I could say as I blushed.

  The next thing I knew: his lips were on my clit. The hood brushed aside he ferociously attacked my swollen love button. My toes curled as he pushed my legs over his shoulders. I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, holding his head in position. His fingers finding my lips and stretching me open. This was…incredible. At first my mind went to how I had done oral all wrong all these years.

  This guy was a pro.

  “Please…I need you inside me, Eric!” I started pulling at his hair as if you pull him up to me, his dick sliding in my wet pussy. The one time my girlfriend said and did this to me, I became a beast and took her. Two minutes later I was done, and she was lying to me about how good it was for her.

  Not Eric. He grabbed my wrists and without taking his lips off my clit, he pinned them to the bed. Soon I was cumming. My back and feet arched. “Fuck me, Eric!” I cried out, forgetting that we were in a hotel room and others could hear us. My thighs and belly spasming with orgasmic delight.

  “Now I’m ready.” He said as he slid up the length of my body. He took both wrists in one strong hand and held them above my head. His free hand guided his cock to my opening, he rubbed it along my lips before slowly pushing the tip inside until he met resistance. “You’re a virgin.”

  “What would make you think I’d taken a pink pill before? Much less had sex?”

  “Because you’re from San Fran.” A mischievous smirk spread across his face. He knew that pissed me off.

  “I never…” He shut me up with a kiss and with a powerful thrust he popped my cherry. That bastard had revved me up about my hometown to distract me! I writhed under him for a moment. It hurt, then I felt pressure as he pressed against my cervix. He took his time and kissed me.

  “Tell me when it starts to feel good.” He whispered in my ear.

  It didn’t take long. “It feels good now.” I said.

  He started to rhythmically thrust in and out of me, building up speed. His cock filling me and stretching me. I didn’t know how big it was, I hadn’t seen it yet. I just knew it felt huge and good. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as he took me. I was along for the ride at that point. Missionary and doggy were the only two positions I knew.

  He was at just the right angle, stimulating my clit. His hairy legs rubbing against my sensitive thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist. This sent aftershocks through my body and soon I was cumming again. My cunt milking his shaft proved too much for him as he flew over the edge and came inside me. I could feel his cum, warm and pleasant inside me. I imagined it being sucked into my cervix…into my womb.

  The thought terrified me.

  “Shit! I’m not on birth control! Isn’t the pill permanent if I get pregnant?” I started to slide out from under him.

  His arms locked around my waist. “Hey, it’s okay Andi. I got the pills that came with birth control already. You’re fine.”

  I looked at him. “Did you plan this?”

  He shook his head no. “Not at all. However, I didn’t know what you’d do. If you wanted to try sex as a girl with me or someone else—I wanted to make sure you were taken care of.” He reached for his t-shirt and handed it to me. Instinctively I placed it between my legs and snuggled up to him.

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m glad it was with you.” I yawned.

  ∞∞∞

  In the middle of the night I woke up to the dream of Eric once again eating me out. When I reached for him and he wasn’t there, I realized it was a dream and I needed to pee. I slid out of bed and into the bathroom. As I shambled back to bed, my sleepiness lifted a little and I realized that if he wasn’t in bed he probably should’ve been in the bathroom. But he wasn’t.

  I peeked out the door into the living area of the suite. Perhaps he stepped to the fridge for a midnight snack? My heart sank as I noticed him sacked out on the couch. Emotion welled in me and I plopped down in bed as my mind raced. Why did it hurt that he left me for the couch? This was just a weekend arrangement and I’d go back to being my regular self on Monday or Tuesday. It’s not like I thought about dating him. Still I felt tears sliding down my cheeks.

  I sniffed them away and eventually went back to sleep. When I woke-up in the morning, Eric had already left. I decided to get some Sun, so I put on my black bikini and sandals and made my way to the hotel pool.

  But that, and the wedding that followed, is a different story...

  Confession 4: Randy the Trucker's Tales

  Hi! This is Randy the Trucker again,

  This COVID-19 thing has been tough; high demand for hand sanitizer and TP means lots of work but no days off. I’ve been working 7 days since late February. Luckily, I love my job. The worst parts though have been closed down restaurants to include truck stop diners. I can’t exactly pull through the drive-thru and those fast food places typically don’t allow you to order outside your vehicle.

  I’ve made do with stopping at grocery stores and buying sandwich and other food that’s easy to make in the cab of a semi. One night after dropping my load, I found out that I could take the next day off. That was cool and all, but I was far from my home away from the road, so I started looking to see who my options were for a quick tryst. There was one person I really wanted to call, the one person who I find myself thinking could lure me away from the road.

  But she’s living her best life, and I’m living mine, so I don’t think it’d work out. We’d get annoyed with each other after about two weeks.

  I’m talking about one Ms. Gillian Hampton, publisher of fine smut rags. I call her Gilly, she hates it, but she’s grown used to it to the point she now finds it endearing. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Let m
e try and paint a picture of her:

  Imagine a chick who’s all class. Someone you would never think would knock boots with a blue-collar stiff like me. Barefoot, she comes up to almost my shoulders. In heels she’s looking me in the nose. And speaking of looking…she has these blue eyes that I could just swim in. In a beautiful face that when alone at home (or in the sleeper cab of my semi) is framed by long, wavy brown hair that she normally keeps up.

  On the street she looks like a hot, MILF-y librarian. Her hair perfectly styled and worn up. Eyes framed by glasses. Her dress is classic. She’s always in a dress or skirt suit. Always in nylon and heels. Perfect make-up. The cutest resting-bitch-face ever, which makes her smiles even more beautiful.

  Yeah, of all the women I’ve been with since my heart was broken at 16, she is the only one that I’ve ever felt anything approaching love for. I know that she’s the only one I’ve made love to.

  I know, you’re probably thinking how a slob like me ever hooked up with an angel like her. It was Pinky. I guess the ladies like to talk about their sexual adventures and I guess I impressed my first X-Change girl enough that she recommended me to Gillian who asked Pinky to pass along her number. When I called, I wasn’t nervous until I heard this incredible phone sex voice. Pure sex kitten as we flirted and talked about what we wanted to do to each other if or when we met

  We made plans to meet at the local truck stop diner. I was expecting someone less refined, so imagine my shock when a woman who looked straight from a ‘40s ladies’ journal sauntered to my table.

  But I digress, which I do a lot when I think about her.

  Where was I?

  This was just after I sent Gillian my ‘confession’ for the first issue. Whenever I’m in her area, I’m always a little nervous calling her. I mean, I’m no movie star. I’m on the chubby size of average, but not fat. Typical guy driving a truck. I keep expecting her to come to her senses and say we’re through, or she’s married. It’s better to imagine she’s still out there and available than know she’s moved on or lost interest in me. I looked at all the X-Change women in the area on their personals app, but none of them held a candle to Gilly. So, I bit the bullet and dialed her number.

  “Hello, Randall.” Her voice, smooth as silk, purred.

  “Hey, Gilly.” I could hear her giggle on the other end. “I’m about an hour out…and didn’t know…if you were…I’ve got tomorrow off…and there’s no place to stop and eat…”

  “And you want to know if I’m on the menu?” Now that silk had a laughing lilt to it.

  Gilly always knows how to put me at ease. I think she likes how flustered I am at first when I call. “Yes.”

  “Well, I actually had plans.” She let me dangle. She always lets me dangle and think that she’s unavailable. But she always drops everything for me. I’m terrified of the day she doesn’t. “But nothing I can’t put off for a day. Or two.”

  I smiled.

  “I assume you’ll need a pick-up from the truck-stop? Can you still park your giant rig there? Or are you going to try it fit it down my tight street?” The woman knows the type of overtly sexual innuendo I love.

  “You know it, Gilly.”

  “Great, so I’ll meet you there in an hour?”

  “Sounds good.” And she was gone. No bye. No silly you hang up, no you hang up first bullshit. She lived about 20 minutes from the truck-stop and if I knew her, she was already put together at this time of day. Maybe an outfit change and she’d be out the door. Probably beat me there, I thought.

  ∞∞∞

  I arrived at the truck-stop a little over an hour later, and she wasn’t there. I had to wait twenty minutes for her to arrive. She pulled up in her immaculate 2010 BMW Z4. She stepped out and we shared a passionate kiss, enjoying the sensation of her hot as hell, outta-my-league body against my average bod. When we separated, I did a quick scan across the lot. I could tell the other guys were jealous.

  Well most. There were a few who knew Gilly is a local X-Change hottie and don’t approve. I’ve been called some homophobic slurs from truckers I used to think were my friends. But fuck them. Or better yet, not. They don’t know what they’re missing and that leaves more for guys like Tuesday and me. If they want to be all irrational about it.

  But screw those guys, back to Gilly…

  She was wearing this vintage navy dress that loosely hugged her wonderful curves. It wasn’t skintight nor was it billowy. It was just the right amount of advertising what was underneath, while leaving some to the imagination. It had polka-dots, white and about an inch, all over. The collar and short sleeves were cuffed in white. She wore nude colored nylons and when she spun to show me the back view (what an ass!) I could see the nylons had back-seams. Since I’ve never seen her wear nothing but thigh highs, I assumed they were attached to a very nice garter belt.

  “So still driving that old death trap? It’s 2020, it’s ten years old now.” I like her car. “You know, I just don’t feel right a woman of your beauty and class putting herself at risk. Feel like I need to take it off your hands. You know—to keep you safe.”

  She smiled. “Oh no, especially not right now.” She flirted back. “I watch the news and truckers are the new heroes. I could not bear putting you at risk in such an unsafe automobile.” She stepped to the passenger door and waited.

  I opened it and with grace she slid into the seat. I shut the door behind her as she put both feet inside at the same time. All class.

  Well, at least until we got back to her place.

  I started the engine and checked the mileage. Just a few hundred over 29,000 miles. “Damn girl, ain’t you got nothing with mileage on it?”

  She laughed. “Just me.”

  “Well, I know that ass doesn’t have any miles on it. Perhaps this visit you’ll let me pop your anal cherry.” I knew what her answer would be. Same as it ever was. No.

  “Maybe.”

  I put the car in gear and sped out of the lot.

  ∞∞∞

  The reason Gilly was late picking me up was she had to stop for groceries. It was still March and she said she owed me a steak and a BJ because I missed out on Steak & Blow-Job day on the fourteenth. So, while I hopped in the shower, she got grilling. With the Corona virus going around, it was a pain in the ass to get a shower on the road. So, I took my time and let the warmth carry all the road stank of me.

  Just to tell you how difficult it is to get a shower on the road right now: the hot shower felt so good that I lost track of time when a Grade-A piece of ass was busy grilling me a steak dinner with the promise of a blow-job after. Yeah, I know I must sound like a disgusting pig. But the only thing that matches my lust for this woman is the respect I have for her. But this isn’t a poetry journal, it’s a smut rag and it’s what you came to read, right?

  I step into the dining room, which is open to her kitchen. She’s standing there wearing nothing but heels, hose, apron, and a smile. Her hair released and hanging down about her shoulders. There was only one place setting at the table. “Wow! What inspired this?”

  She glowed. “Well, I’ve been looking at a lot of CMNF art recently, I want to re-decorate.”

  “CMNF?” I asked.

  “Oh! Clothed Male Nude Female. I’ve seen a lot of black & white pictures I can get on canvas. The subjects are men wearing suits and women wearing nothing but nylons and heels. If that. Maybe a mask.” She plated a steak, some grilled corn, and these fried potatoes she calls rissole potatoes. I call them delicious. “I thought it would be fun trying the lifestyle for a day. I was actually thinking of you when you called.” She took off the apron.

  She has a runner’s body with a flat tummy she keeps that way through a daily sit-up routine. She likes to run. She lives at the end of a dirt road runs either a 5k or 10k five times a week. Honestly, I don’t know how long a ‘k’ is, but it must be a lot because I don’t see fat on her.

  Well, maybe her breasts. These are two wonderful, perky orbs that naturally bounce a
nd jiggle when she walks. Just over a handful and with cute nipples surrounded by dime sized areolas. Her skin is this flawless, creamy white. Perfectly smooth, there’s not a hair on her that ain’t on her head. Her tight slit blends in between her legs, except when she’s aroused, and you can see her puffy lips peeking out.

  Come to think of it, I’ve only seen Gilly’s slit unaroused a handful of times.

  Anyway, in terms of appearance, personality, and raw sexuality she is a goddess. She reminds me of my high school girlfriend, the one who broke my heart, her mom. Which is to say: if that girl was my perfect girl—her mom and Gillian are my perfect woman.

  Her heels click-clacking on the tile brought me back to reality. She stood before me. “Damn, woman! How am I gonna eat looking at you like that across the table.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Silly man! Can’t you count?” She pointed to where she usually sat when we ate in. “Why do you think there’s only one place set?”