“Don’t mind me,” I sniggered. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He looked over at me with that huge dimpled grin spread over his broad, cheeky face. I shook my head with a smirk of relief and wandered back out to the wings, leaving them both to it. Although I don’t believe she saved that for the party.
At the end of the night, with the bar emptied and everyone else gone or going home following what was officially our record attendance to date (or at least since Bruno first started keeping records, circa 1969), I found myself in the Ladies, rubbing away the last traces of Kitty Klub glamour for another weekend. Tomorrow, Sunday, was always rest day and that sensation of returning to normality – becoming a citizen again, no longer a Kit – always held a tinge of melancholy for me. Nobody else was partying and I had no plans beyond buying food, tidying up the house and becoming a normal member of society until later in the following week. Well, I had responsibilities anyway – rent and Boris, and I was probably overdue another telephone call to my mother to assure her again that everything was still going OK, I still had a job and lots of interesting new friends, yes I was taking care of myself and remembering to eat, and no, I wouldn’t be coming back home any time soon.
I washed my face and shook my hands dry. When I turned around, there was Honey standing behind me, smoking a cigarette, and casually dressed down in a tight top and jeans. She had daubed her face in white foundation, perhaps to cover up the redness from earlier, and she no longer looked so pink and shiny (for which I was much relieved).
“Godammit,” she sighed. “I could sit and look at that ass all night long. Although I’d rather be bent over and ball-deep in it.”
That was the kind of colorful smut I’d long come to expect from her, so I smiled and gave the ass a shake in reply. She held the cigarette in her teeth and pushed a hand deep inside her jeans.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever tasted tranny cock, have you?” she asked. I shook my head. “I got my first in New York. I was 21 and she was 35, a red-hot cock tease who looked like Stevie Nicks and could suck a watermelon through a straw. She blew my fucking brains out, man. I didn’t want to leave. Getting on the flight back to Montreal was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. I could have spent eternity wrapped around her. She was magical...moonlight and hellfire, rough and tender, classy and slutty all at the same time. She was everything to me for one beautiful short week.
“And that’s when I knew what I wanted to be. Not a man anymore, not a woman. Both yet neither. Something more, something different. Something wonderful and shocking, challenging people’s views and prejudices by simply existing and being what I am. You’re a smart girl. I know you get it.”
I nodded. I did, although I admit that Honey’s brazen and often crude manner had usually put me off asking her about it in more detail. Yet now all her defenses seemed to have been lowered, as though by challenging Bruno and having won, she no longer had anything to fight or rebel against, and was happy to become just another one of us, to be a true Kit (if the others would give her the chance) and be what she had always wanted to be. I’d never seen her so opened up as this before, nor come over so confessional. None of us knew much at all about her past or her real nature – yet now I wanted to know more.
“You’re fascinating,” I admitted.
The hand inside her jeans stroked and pulled, gently. I was having a very real effect upon her, which was now obvious. She blew a long dark stream of fire-dragon smoke up towards the electric blue ceiling.
“I just am what I am,” she said. “I worked damn hard over the last nine years to be this person. Have you any idea the force of will required to follow one sole dream – one desire – one goal, for all that time? The fears, the worries that have to be conquered along the way...each and every day? To go to sleep, and wake up, with that one thought: to be all that you ever wanted, to grab this one fragile little life by the jugular and suck out of it all that you can?” She pulled up her top and revealed her rounded little B-cup breasts, rubbing her finger over the surgery scars. “And suffering the pain of this; sitting around, waiting to be called in to surgery, wondering, just for that one moment, what the hell I’m doing to myself and should I just turn around and run out the door...the constant battle against all normal fear?
“And, at the end of it all, the overwhelming flood of god-damned joy when you finally reach your destination? The time when I stopped being a whole man, and the first person who told me that I looked beautiful for what I was – really was – tits and cock and big girly pigtails and all – that moment, Phoenyx, is what the Buddhists call nirvana. That moment opened my mind and my soul up like a million orgasms at once. I knew I was home. I was there, at the end of the journey. Can you imagine that?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling my eyes burn with tears at her words which were delivered on a voice which grew huskier and more emotional with every passing moment. “I can imagine.”
She flicked open the top button of her jeans and squirmed her zip down a little.
“You’re the same,” she whispered. “You know what you wanted all this time. And you pushed it. Against all your fears, against all common sense, all barriers, no matter what anyone said, or thought, or might have warned you about. You made yourself what you are. And that’s why you stand out like a beacon here, amongst all the others who are just doing a job or having fun and showing off. And that, Phoenyx honey, is also why you make me want to cream every time I see you.
“There is nothing sexier in this world than a true, free spirit; wrapped around a body of indefinable beauty.”
I fought back a laugh at that. “I do my best, I guess,” I conceded, feeling a bit embarrassed. Beauty was maybe going a bit far, but I took the compliment anyway. “Thank you,” I added.
“Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. Nobody else made you this way. I’m just saying what I see.”
I nodded at that. She was perceptive, dammit. And she was right. And that, too, was fascinating. And more than just a bit sexy.
She straightened her legs and the jeans fell to the floor, wrapped around her boots. That wonderful cock of hers arose up in her hand and she stood there, eyes running over me, fingers all over her shaft and balls.
“I’d love to cum for you,” she said, pulling her nipple ring while she peeled back her foreskin to expose the bulging head. “You could make me spurt on demand, you fucking big beautiful goddess.”
I swayed and ran my hands over myself, giving her something to work to. I lowered my G-string, sucking on my finger. I moved closer in, stepping slowly, looking her up and down. Her eyes held none of the angry fire we had been used to for so long – they reflected only desire and fulfillment, hunger and true hedonism.
“What do you want?” she asked me in a broken whimper. I lowered myself to my knees in front of her and looked up.
“My first taste, honey,” I smiled, and lowered that twitching organ down to my lips.
“Oh Christ,” she growled, her body twitching as I touched my tongue to her tip, “Phoenyx. Yes, oh fucking yes.”
She pushed her hands through my hair, caressing me the same way I stroked Boris to sleep on my lap. I took her eight inches as deep as I could, trying to vary the speed, the attention. I lifted her balls in my hand and tweaked them, making her shudder and grab at my hair. She pulled me further onto herself, pushing that cock head into my tonsils. I felt like gagging and pulled back slightly, fighting her feverish attempts to squeeze it all down my throat in one go. Finally, she pulled back, letting me breathe again, and looked down at me with wide, staring eyes.
“Wow,” she gasped, “that feels intense. You’ve had a lot of practice, I can tell.”
I shook my head, whilst running my fingers over her soft, pulsing veins. “Not really. I’d never even taken my clothes off for anyone else until I started here. But I did have a very good teacher.” I rubbed the warm, dripping shaft against my cheek, caressing it, working it gently.
“Oh my God,
woman. I just want to burst all over you.” She flattened herself against the tiles and gripped my hair, twisting it around her fingers as I teased and licked up her cock. “Hang on.”
She broke away and knelt down with me, hugging me close, dragging my hair over her face and neck.
“Your place or mine?” she whispered in my ear.
“Uh?” That was an unexpected offer. I had been waiting for her to beg me to finish her off there and then.
“C’mon, Phoenyx babe. That was just the foreplay. The quick ‘n dirty overture. I want something longer-lasting and classy for the rest of the night. What about you? Are you game?”
I drew my fingers through her hair, amazed at how bouncy and heavy it felt. So soft and silky. In some ways, Honey was even more feminine than many women I knew, and I wondered if that was one reason why she seemed to draw such hostile reactions from some of them.
I sat back on my heels, looking her over. Her parted lips, her rapid breathing, her lowered eyelids which leant such heavy desire to her sinful looks – it almost felt as if she was trying to seduce me in return.
“I need to check on Boris,” I said, remembering my commitments to normal life – or at least, the few things outside the Klub that constituted normality for me. But I had no other plans, and was surprised that Honey didn’t, either. Unless, of course, she had already chosen to make me her plan for the night.
“Boris? Who’s that?” she repeated, looking disappointed.
“My cat.”
That seemed to cheer her up, that I wasn’t talking about a boyfriend or an awkward child. “Your place, then?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. My place. Come on.” I took her by the hand and drew her up to her feet. She pushed against me, grinding that cock of hers against my belly as she rained little kisses all over my neck. I wanted her more than anything else at that moment. And having to wait until we got the taxi back to mine was almost too much to bear.
She had won me over. Cock, line and sinker.
I led her up the stairs to the apartment, trying to be quiet as it was about 3 a.m. She had some trouble doing so, being not only high on a cocktail of shots from earlier in the night, but still in her dancing boots which were even bigger and clumpier than mine. We were no sooner through the front door than she pushed it shut behind us, turned me around and pinned me to the wall with her hands framing my face and her mouth all over mine.
“You taste like chocolate truffles,” she gasped when she finally allowed us both the chance of a deep breath. “Exotic, expensive, and utterly, addictively, delicious. You’re like fruit wine and cocaine all mixed together, with none of the bad effects and all of the good ones. I want to taste every inch of you, Phoenyx. Over and over again. I want to eat you, breathe you, dream you.”
“Really?” I asked, still unsure of myself and crumbling before such praise.
“Yes, really. I’ve been around, dear. I’ve been fucked, sucked, ridden long and rough, teased, pleased, tied up, whipped and stripped for kicks, with some of the hottest performers in the business. And I’ve never been moved by anyone as much as you.”
I stretched out my hand and locked the door. “Let me put Boris out for the night,” I whispered. “Then I’m all yours.”
I had to search the whole house for him, as though he was hiding on purpose just to frustrate me. I eventually found him sulking underneath the kitchen table. I picked him up and he hissed at me.
“Calm down,” I soothed, “I haven’t been away as long as you think.”
Honey swung herself around the corner.
“Black cats are supposed to be good luck,” she said, smiling at the grimaces I was making while trying to calm the angry little fur ball.
“This one isn’t. He’s a damn pain in the ass. I was always more of a dog person anyway. My mother used to keep German Shepherds when I was younger.”
Honey stepped aside to let me out. “I’d rather have a German Shepherdess right now,” she said after me. I flung open the shutters of the living room window and dumped Boris outside onto the balcony, clearly under protest. His claws left long, stinging pink stripes on my arms and I banged the window shut behind him. He could stay out there until he learned to behave properly, I decided.
I stepped back from the window to find her up close behind me, fingers tracing the outline of my back. “I believe you are now all mine,” she whispered, laying her head onto my shoulder.
I reached behind and cradled her in my arm. “I think you might just be,” I said. “Want to lie down, or just fuck me here at the window?”
I felt her stiffen against me and I craned my neck around to study her reaction.
“Are you serious?”
“I strip off and rub myself here quite a lot,” I confessed. “I have a bit of a regular audience across the street. Hey, it’s all good practice. Helps me keep my hand in. So to speak.”
“Strip, then.”
I slithered my top up and over my head, casting it aside slowly. Honey unclipped my bra at the back and I let my tits gently slide out, leaning forwards so that the ambient light of the streetlamp bounced off them in a pale yellow glow. She gathered the hem of my miniskirt and pulled it up to my waist, exposing my garter straps and stocking tops, and the trimmed stripe of fiery hair above my crotch.
“I love a girl with no knickers on,” Honey’s words slithered into my ear. “Makes for easy access.”
“Me too,” I said.
She traced a finger down my back, from between my shoulders to the crack of my ass. But she didn’t stop – she kept on going, until her hand was between my cheeks. I felt her lips against my shoulder. A curtain twitched, a light came on. The voyeurs were warming up, so it seemed.
“Looks like you’ve got a full house,” she whispered, blowing soft warm words against my skin. “Well, then. Let’s not waste a wonderful opportunity to give them a spy session they’ll never forget.”
She spread my cheeks and I heard her spit on something behind me. Slowly, the moist end of a hot cock poked into my ass, easing its way gently around inside me.
“Easy,” I sighed, “Nice and slow.”
I turned to the side, pulling her with me so that we were facing the window side-on, and backlit by the kitchen light. She set her teeth around my earlobe and I shuddered as I felt her hair cascade over my back.
“Ready?” she whispered.
“Hmm,” I sighed. And without any further enticement, Honey started to squeeze into my ass, the slow burn giving way to a wave of delight which swept through my pussy. I slapped my hand into my quivering snatch and stroked myself deep in time with her heavy thrusts.
More lights came on across the road, and I heard her laugh at the sight. “Uh oh, looks like the word’s going around,” she said.
“I’ve never seen so many before,” I said. “Usually it’s only a few.”
“You never had me before, babe.”
I slapped a dripping wet hand against the window as I pushed back into Honey’s pelvis, urging her to fill me with all her length. She did so, going deeper inside than anyone had ever been before, and I screamed aloud at the sensation.
“Okay?” she asked, concerned.
I reached around behind me, grabbing wildly for her hair. “Fuck yes. Keep going. More.”
“Can I come in you?” she begged as she slapped harder and harder against me, pushing thorns of prickly lust up the length of my spine.
“Yeah, Honey. Fuck my ass, please. Cum in me, give me everything you’ve got. Every beautiful drop. All the way up inside me.”
“Hmm, you got it, girl. I love a bitch who knows what she wants.”
I rattled my fingers against my quivering cunt as fast as I could. The sound turned to a sloppy splashing and I was already drizzling onto the floor. I pushed my leg up onto the window ledge and leant down, spreading myself wider for Honey to finish me off in spectacular style. She shoved harder and harder into me, shaking me senseless, throwing my thoughts and my hair all ov
er the place as I squealed like a pig, stuck by eight inches of beautiful uncircumcised prick. I came again and again as she pumped her cum into me and I hung, empty and shuddering, over the arm of the sofa as we ebbed and flowed in the slippery, sweaty, gasping aftermath, making a mess of Mrs. Groenenberg’s carpet as well as the furniture.
As I would soon discover, whenever she came, Honey ejaculated like a hot spring, spraying her fluid in every direction and it quickly became one of my favorite delights to jerk her off right in my face. I loved the sensation, like summer rain, of her cum landing on me but I’d never imagined she would make such a mess inside me either. I’d always thought my anal passage had been pretty narrow and tight, yet Honey had still managed to flood me out and give me more length and girth than I’d ever taken there. Perhaps I was getting stretched, I thought with a snigger. Perhaps one day I’d be able to take a fist in there, like Olivia – but that was something for another time.
She withdrew her shrinking organ from me and we hugged each other against the window, me sitting astride her thigh so she could stroke my clit, keeping me hot and wet beneath. I kept one hand on her cock, smearing her hot cum back into her skin, and made her sigh and groan with gentle fingertips sliding over her purple tip until I felt she was almost ready to cum again. Our tongues met and danced together in the afterglow, our bodies breathing as one in perfect sync.
“Phoenyx,” she whispered into my mouth, “you are one red-hot cunt.”
I felt my anus dilate and a warm, ticklish trail of Honey’s cream slithered out of me. I giggled and leant back against her.
“I think my ass is hotter at the moment, though. Feels like I just sat on a poker.”
“Fuck, yeah.”
Neither of us had noticed until then that half the windows in the block opposite were now open, with movement visible at every one.
“I think it’s time you spoke to Bruno and negotiated some decent terms for yourself,” she told me. “You’re definitely the star of that place. And you should be acknowledged as such now.”
“Gloria was always the star turn,” I said, “ever since I arrived.”
Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire Page 12
