TITLE    : El Pinata
STORYID  : el-pinata
SUMMARY  : The pinata was full of wonderful surprises.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2017-09-14
CATEGORY : transgender-crossdressers
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |shemale|transgender|tranny|anal|fellatio|oral sex|mexico|erotic dancer|pinata|nightclub|


The night was warm, the air inside the Acapulco <em>boteco</em> scented with the salt of the nearby sea. Loud popular music filled the open bar. 



Seated alone at a table near the tiny stage, a blond gringo watched me dance. His rapt attention told me he liked the tall, slender young woman he saw, liked her small, round breasts and long legs, liked the way the brunette moved with fluid grace. 



My costume, white thong panties and matching stiletto heels, contrasted sharply with my sun-bronzed skin, accentuating my tight derriere and my firm, sleek legs. I'd seen enough videos of my rehearsals to know, under the flashing strobe lights, I seemed to glow, changing colors. My flawless skin was like porcelain. I appeared fragile, feminine, and somehow innocent, despite my suggestive thrusts and gyrations. 



My hips dipped and twirled, rising and falling, as they rotated in a sensuous, serpentine undulation. I clapped once, before sweeping my hands over my head and interlacing their fingers for a moment; then, my right palm caressed the nape of my neck, through my raven hair, while its twin fell to my side. All the while, I continued to bump and grind, smiling broadly and winking at my admiring audience. The blond, I saw, followed my every move, hypnotized by my dark beauty, my flowing curves, my dazzling smile. It was as if, in dancing, I wove a spell that bound him. He seemed happy to <em>be</em> bound. 



I wondered whether, beneath his table, an erection pressed against his slacks. 



Turning sideways, I displayed the slope of my left breast; the crown of its taut, swollen nipple; the inward-sweeping arc of the fleshly sphere's lower curve. As I continued to stretch and turn, raising my arms and swiveling my hips, my breasts rose and fell, bouncing and swaying. 



Knees bent, I dipped toward the stage, my smooth, tight bottom nearly touching my heels. Just as abruptly, I bounced back to my full height, resuming my gyrations. I raised my right knee, my legs crossed for a moment, and then I spun, facing the tables, my breasts jiggling, my tummy taut, my flared hips rocking. 



Again, I knew from watching videos of my rehearsals, each move showed my body from a different angle, so I presented not one, but dozens of views of my feminine charms. My face, my breasts, my hips, my derriere, my legs looked different each time I turned, stretched, shimmied, bowed, squatted, kicked, or thrust—and every view was a fresh vision of loveliness. 



The song ended in a crescendo of trumpets and drums, and I stopped, legs wide, muscles slack, arms to my sides, head down. A moment later, I tossed back my long raven locks, smiled, and waved, before descending the short flight of steps at the side of the stage. 



It is a custom at <em>El Pinata</em> for us dancers to join patrons at their tables during our breaks, and I knew just the table's occupant I intended to sit with. Crossing the <em>boteco</em>, I stood before the handsome man who'd been eyeing me across the barroom, watching him as his gaze journeyed down, from my face to my breasts and lower. When his eyes returned to mine, I smiled. "Do you mind if I join you, <em>senor</em>?" 



He rose, pulling a chair out for me. <em>Not only handsome, but a gentleman, too!</em> 



Before returning to his place at the table, he scooted my chair in as I took a seat. "My name's Todd," he told me, smiling. 



The direct gaze of his blue eyes were whirlpools, drawing me in and spinning me round. His deep dimples, even white teeth, and California tan were hard—no, impossible—to resist. <em>Watch yourself! You've just met him!</em> I always give my heart away too fast, my mama tells me, and she is right. "It is a pleasure to meet you," I managed to reply. "I am Juanita." 



"You don't look old enough to dance in a <em>boteco</em>." 



I laughed. "I am twenty-one." 



"At twenty-five, I'm a bit older than you, then." 



"I like older men." I let that sink in for a moment, before asking, "How is it you come to be here, tonight?" 



"I'm visiting Carlos, staying at his condo. When I asked him to show me around, he said he wasn't feeling well, but he recommended <em>El Pinata</em>." 



Curious, I asked, "How did you meet Carlos?" 



"During his high school years, Carlos was a foreign exchange student. He stayed with my family in San Diego, California." 



I nodded. "He has told me—has told all of us who work for him, here at <em>El Pinata—</em>how impressed he was by the vast wealth American capitalism had brought to thousands." 



"Did he mention my father is wealthy?" I wasn't certain in the dim light of the <em>boteco</em>, but Todd appeared to blush. 



"No, he never mentioned you or your family," I replied. Had Todd not spoken so matter-of-factly, I might have supposed he was bragging. I liked that his family's money apparently hadn't given him a big head. 



"As my parents' guest, Carlos saw the benefits of money close up. During his stay with us, we lived in a mansion on Coronado Island, overlooking the sea." 



"It must have been nice," I murmured, thinking of all the fine things money could buy for my family and me. 



"Carlos told me he already knew about poverty, from personal experience. In Mexico, he said, his family didn't have much, despite their long hours of hard work. He wanted a different life for himself and his family. At the end of his stay, my father, impressed by Carlos' drive and the way he'd pushed himself in his studies, had given him $250,000." He scanned the <em>boteco</em>. "From the looks of things, Carlos put the gift to good use." 



"He has," I agreed. "Your father, he is a generous man. Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars <em>es mucho dinero.</em>" 



He smiled, as if he were dismissing the comment even as he acknowledged it. "Not when you have my father's kind of money." He looked at me, not, I hoped, with pity in his eyes. "Carlos tells me you have many mouths to feed." 



I sighed. "Sometimes, Carlos says too much about others." 



"Do you mind if I ask whether you're married?" 



"I do not, and I am not." 



"Then you have no children?" 



I chuckled. "No. 



Was it my own wish, or did the American look relieved? "But many do depend on me: my mama and my papa, my brothers and my sisters, my grandparents, my aunts and my uncles, and some of my cousins." 



I hesitated. I had only just met this handsome man from California. Did I dare to tell him how, in addition to my dancing, I earned my living? Would he look upon me with contempt? Sneer at me? Insult me? Stalk out of <em>El Pinata</em>, leaving me behind, with no more thought for me than he would have were he deserting a cockroach? 



Maybe he <em>would</em> leave, but, if he did, he wasn't meant for me. 



Mama and Papa had always told me that it is not I who must be good enough for a man, but the man who must be good enough for me. If this man was not, I would find one who was, but telling Todd my secret—or <em>one</em> of them—would test his character. 



"I guess I do not need to explain what I need to do on a 'date' with a stranger to earn enough money to support those I love." 



He looked sorry for me. 



Did he pity me now? I could endure his scorn, perhaps, but never his pity. "What do you think of me now that I have told you the truth about the way I earn the money I need to feed and clothe and shelter the members of my family? You are sorry you have met me?" 



He shook his head. The colorful lights of the <em>boteco</em> swirled over him. "I am sorry your circumstances compel you to do what you must do," he said, "but I admire you for doing it." 



"For dating strangers? For letting them paw me, sweat on me, breathe their foul breath against my neck as they—" I stopped, shuddering. What a picture my words had painted for the American! How could he respect a woman who does as I do, who lives as I live? 



His hand slid across the table, grasping mine. "You are beautiful," he said, "inside and out." 



A tear wet my cheek. I glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. "My break is nearly over. I must return to the stage." 



I rose. "I am sorry, but it is my turn to dance, and, soon, <em>el toro</em> will descend from the rafters." 



"The bull?" he asked, looking puzzled. "What bull?" 



"You will see, soon enough." 



From behind me, Todd called, "What time do you get off work?" 



I turned. "Late. Or early, rather; early in the morning." 



"I'll be here," he promised, "waiting." 



I had no time to answer, because the <em>boteco</em>'s manager, Miguel, wearing his customary attire, a suit and tie, had taken the stage. Microphone in hand, he announced the upcoming descent of the <em>pinata</em>. "Tonight, lovely Juanita does the honors," he said, handing me a stubby aluminum bat. 



After accepting it with a smile, I approached this table and that, flirting with and teasing the leering men and grinning at their crude remarks. "Perhaps you should be the lucky man," I said, offering the bat to a brawny young stud. As he lunged for the bat, upsetting several glasses of his companions' beer, I withdrew it, laughing, and the man cursed as I moved quickly away. 



Next, I extended the bat to a patron so drunk he could hardly sit up. He reached, but missed. Giggling, I moved on. The offer and withdrawal of the bat were parts of the weekly routine. Although the men were genuinely disappointed, none of them reacted in anger; they understood the bat was apt to be withdrawn several times before it was given. 



I pretended to see Todd for the first time. From twenty feet away, my eyes locked on his, and I moved toward him with the purpose of a tigress having found its prey. 



Looking steadfastly into his eyes, I bent, pressing my face toward his. "A <em>gringo</em>." My voice was smooth and soft. 



I half-turned from him, to face the customers seated behind me. "A blue-eyed blond of pale skin," I announced my discovery. "Should he be the chosen one?" 



In unison, the crowd shook their heads, their lips curling into sneers. A chorus resounded from the rafters: "No! No! No!" 



Of course, many of them knew I'd sat with him during my break, but the crowd were good sports. They played along with my act, pretending, as I did, that I'd just sighted the American for the first time. 



I turned back to Todd. "I disagree," I declared. 



I handed him the bat. 



Todd looked half-incredulous, half-overjoyed. 



A drum roll sounded, and a spotlight caught the lowering of the <em>pinata</em>. Lighted from below, its upper regions lost in shadows, a gigantic bull descended into the center of the room, its grand entrance accompanied by a loud snorts, courtesy of prerecorded sound effects. I saw Todd chuckle at the grotesque thing's appearance, especially when he saw it possessed a massive erection. 



"Make sure your swing is true," I advised, reminding Todd, "you get but one chance, and you are a handsome <em>hombre</em>. It would break my heart if you missed the mark." 



He looked at me, as if my swelling curves were all the inspiration he needed. "Don't worry. I'll make it count." 



He'd drunk enough tequila to make him a bit unsteady as he rose. The lights from the streets outside the <em>boteco</em> shone brightly, as did the headlights of passing cars and those within the pub itself. Now the music had stopped, passing traffic sounded louder, too, seeming further to disorient him. He stood, swaying slightly, as he eyed the huge bull. 



From behind him, I said, "Strike its midsection, where the ribs would be." 



Holding the bat near the end of its handle, he swung the aluminum club as hard as he could, targeting the spot I had recommended, and the <strong><em>paper mâché</em></strong> shattered, a scroll tied with a ribbon spilling from its vast interior. 



"Great job, Slugger!" I congratulated him. 



The crowd booed. 



<em>Obviously, they preferred a local winner to a</em> gringo. Smiling, I stooped, retrieving the scroll from the floor of the pub. Opening it, I showed the crowd its calligraphic lettering before making a show of reading the script: "He who wins this document is hereby granted one date with the woman who presents it to him." 



The crowd jeered. 



Todd watched as I approached, my breasts bobbing with each step. "<em>Senor</em>," I said, as I extended the scroll to him, "it gives me great honor, on behalf of <em>El Pinata</em>, to award you this certificate, entitling you to one date with yours truly, Juanita Peron." 



"When?" He sounded eager. 



I grinned. "Now, if you like." 



"I guess I've had a little more tequila than I thought. It might be better to postpone our date until I'm in better shape. How about tomorrow?" 



I looked him up and down, my gaze lingering on the bulge at his crotch. "Fine with me," I said. 



"How do I know where—" 



I tapped the scroll. "My number's right there." 



"Sit with me." 



"Your date does not begin until tomorrow, remember?" 



"Please." 



I pulled my chair close to his. 



"Isn't the <em>pinata</em> thing a bit sexist, not to mention chauvinistic?" 



"Don't you like the prize you won?" 



"Definitely. It's not you, but the <em>pinata—</em>" 



"We are in Mexico," I reminded Todd. "Things are different here. Besides, we dancers were the ones who suggested the <em>pinata</em> to Carlos. Lately, Mexican women have had a hard time financially. The economy is not doing well." 



"I understand. Still—" 



Without thinking, I had leaned forward, kissing him. 



He kissed me back, and I was transported from <em>El Pinata</em>, from my circumstances, from the poverty and shame and disgust I felt at my plight. <em>He is such a good kisser! My troubles melt when his lips touch mine!</em> 



But I had one secret left to share, a secret that could end any romance that might develop between us before it had a chance to blossom. 



It was a much darker secret than the one I had already shared with Todd, the secret about how I made a living for my family. It was a secret that could douse any ardor he might have begun to feel for me, a secret that could make me an object of horror to him, a secret that could leave my soul in tatters again, as it had before with other men not nearly as handsome and kind as Todd. 



<em>Was</em> he kind? 



I wanted him to be, with all my heart. 



With all my soul, I wanted him to be caring, compassionate, tender, gentle, and loving. 



Our lips parted, but we held one another with our eyes. His were soft and full of the look of longing. 



I did not want to tell him. 



I did not want to take a chance at losing him before I had a chance to win him. 



But he had to know the truth, come what may. 



"It's never a question of whether you're good enough for him," I heard Papa's voice insist. 



"It's whether he's good enough for you," Mama's voice finished. 



Theirs were words of wisdom, words of truth. 



I hesitated. <em>It's now or never</em>. I put his hand atop my crotch. He looked a bit shocked, but he did not draw away. I pressed his hand deeper between my thighs. "Have you not guessed my secret, Todd?" 



The way he half-spun toward me in his chair, the look of astonishment on his face, and his gasp told me, clearly, he had had no idea. 



What would be his reaction, now that he knew? Insults? Rage? Violence? 



He was silent. 



Inwardly, I flinched. 



When he spoke, his voice was calm. That did not necessarily mean he was not angry. I'd been beaten before, severely, by men who'd never raised their voices. "Not only did I not know, but I would never have guessed." He frowned. "But you've been wearing thong panties on stage all night. How do you conceal such a secret?" 



I smiled. "It is not such a big secret." 



"Still, I watched you closely. There hasn't been a hint of a bulge. How in the world—?" 



"I use a gaff." 



"A what?" 



"Panties, essentially, with an extended crotch. They let a girl tuck away her boy parts, ensuring a smooth crotch." 



Todd shook his head, but he did not withdraw his hand. 



The warmth of his touch warmed me. I felt my cock, tucked between my legs, stiffen. 



He stole a sidelong glance at me. "Are you wearing one now?" 



I gave him a look half of reprimand, half of hurt. "What a rude question!" 



He averted his eyes. "Sorry." 



I laughed. "I was only joking. But to answer your question, yes, always." I paused, watching his eyes, his face. "Except, of course, when I am bed. There, I am naked." 



"I'd like to see that." 



# # # 



That night, I was exhausted. The dancing was not the reason. I am used to such exertion. Rather, the cause of my sleeplessness was Todd. I could not stop thinking of him, of his handsome looks, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his powerful physique. Despite his attire, his broad shoulders, his deep chest, and his muscular build were obvious. I was sure he would have firm, compact buttocks, too, and, judging by the bulge I'd seen in his pants, a cock and balls as potent and virile as the rest of him. I imagined him naked and erect. My own dick rose, swelling, and stood upright against my tummy, full of the blood of life and the passion of lust. 



But more than his looks and more than his body kept me awake. 



From the moment I had first seen him, I wanted him so desperately my desire felt as though it were a physical need. Some attribute such desire to chemistry, others to the arrows of Cupid, and still others to a form of madness. I did not know why Todd's mere presence made me lightheaded, why his voice made me weak in the knees, or why his sheer manliness seemed to seize me with the irresistible force of a riptide. All I know is that I felt it—and I feared I might never get even the chance to win his love. 



After I shared with him my secret, he had seemed to accept it, to accept me. He seemed to be interested in me as more than an <em>amiga</em>. He seemed to be attracted to me as strongly as I was to him, and maybe he was, or had been, at the time. But would he be when morning had come, when the <em>tequila</em> he had drunk tonight had worn off, when he considered again the secret I had shared with him tonight? 



Perhaps, then, his head clear, he would decide he did not want a date with a woman like me, a woman who was only half a woman. A woman who was half a man. To many men, someone like me was a monster, not a human being; a freak, not a person. If I were such in the eyes of Todd, come morning, I would never see him again. 



There would be no date and no chance of a date. 



That is what kept me awake. 



Fear. 



Fear of being rejected. 



Again. 



By a man for whom I had feelings. 



# # # 



The next day was bright and warm, without a cloud in the azure sky. Gulls soared, wheeling over the ocean, as my date and I strolled the beach, hand in hand. 



"You look better this morning than you did last night, <em>gringo</em>," I told him. 



"Feel better, too." 



I squeezed his hand. "Not that you looked all that bad last night." 



"Really?" 



I looked at his crotch. "Definitely." 



My assurance brought a smile to his face. 



<em>Here is a</em> gringo <em>I'd like to make an</em> amigo<em>—and much more than an</em> amigo! 



Our date seemed like scenes in a romantic movie, rapid sequences showing a young couple in love acting silly and posing before local landmarks as they tour an exotic city. Todd had asked me to show him around town, and, using Carlos' BMW, loaned to Todd for our date, we spent the morning and afternoon visiting some of Acapulco's top tourist traps. He'd brought a camera with him, and he insisted on photographing me everywhere we went. 



Many times, by myself or with a relative, I had been to the same places we were going together, but, with Todd, the experience seemed new again. He was so gorgeous and so much a gentleman that he made everything familiar seem new to me again. He had reawakened a zeal for life inside me that I had not known was missing until I met him. For the first time in a long time, I felt joy in simple things: the scent of the sea, the warmth of the shining sun, the breeze on my face and in my hair. It was a joy to share with Todd the sites of my hometown. Since I knew the sites well, I not only directed Todd through the city's streets, but I also acted as his tour guide. 

<hr pg="2" />As we toured the first point of interest on our impromptu itinerary, which was located on the southwestern corner of Acapulco Bay, I told Todd, "The Fort of San Diego is shaped like a pentagon, with bastions at each of its corners." 



"Bastions?" 



We had walked past the flowering hedge growing alongside the front walkway, crossed the stone bridge and the lowered drawbridge connecting the walkway to the fort's gate, entered the structure beyond the tall stone walls, and made our way past the exhibits in the halls, climbing the stairs to the second story. As we continued our walk, I took Todd's hand. His touch thrilled me, quickening my heartbeat. "Projecting walls. They jut from the rest of fort, forming protected stations which provide panoramic views of the surrounding area. As you see, from this one, much of Acapulco and a good deal of the bay are on display. Archers shot arrows from some bastions, while canons fired their ammunition from others." 



"Stand here," Todd said, "and let me get a picture of you, with the ocean behind you." 



"You have taken a whole roll of photographs of me already!" I protested. 



"I can never have enough." 



I smiled for the camera—and for the American who had kept our date, even after he had learned my secret. <em>He is the man I have been seeking, the one who can embrace me as I am and love me the way I want—the way I</em> need<em>—to be loved.</em> 



I told him a bit of the history of the site. "It should be called The <em>Forts</em> of San Diego, for there are two of them. The first was built from 1616 to 1617, the second from 1778 to 1783, both to protect the city from pirates. The site was used during the War of Independence, as a Spanish garrison under the command of Pedro Antonio Vélez, but it fell to José María Morelos and his troops on August 1813." I could tell him more, but I didn't want to bore him. Often, a little history goes a long way. 



We went back downstairs, through the kitchen area, passing the artifacts on display, without pausing to examine the pottery, ladles, wooden spoons, cooking pots, and pans, or the stone ovens set into the blue stone counters. To see everything would have taken us at least two hours, and I wanted Todd to see as much of my hometown as we could. Most of the time, I take Acapulco for granted, but in the company of my handsome <em>gringo</em>—or my handsome <em>amigo</em>—I felt proud of my city, of my culture, of my heritage, and of myself. My fingers tightened around Todd's hand, and I felt him respond to my touch, as his own strong fingers tightening around my grip. 



We had started our date at 7:00 a. m. this morning; it was now 8:30. 



"What's next?" Todd asked. 



"<em>La Quebrada.</em>" 



"What's that?" 



"You'll see." 



I gave Todd directions as we drove west and south, along the bay, before taking a side street west again to travel uphill, through commercial and residential sections of the city, along tree-lined avenues, past towering terraces of shops and stores festooned with balconies, past hotels and restaurants, past pedestrians, and past cars parked on both sides if the street. Traffic was becoming heavy, and we had to drive more slowly, but I did not mind, not with Todd beside me. I had not been with a man like him in a long time, a man who accepted me, a man who enjoyed my company, a man who, I was beginning to believe, might become more than an <em>amigo</em>. 



A few more turns brought us into view of <em>La Quebrada</em>, and we parked the car. A path through the wall of the famous cliff led us to a restaurant from which tourists watch the divers. Seated at a table,we enjoyed a fruit salad as we watched divers leap from the cliffs' ledges. 



"How high are the ledges?" 



"The lower one is forty feet. The other is eighty." 



"Those guys are crazy!" 



"Most are members of families who have jumped for years, and many of them are the <em>La Quebrada</em> Cliff Divers. They have had much practice judging when to jump so they will catch the wave as it rolls toward the cliff. If they miscalculate, they easily could be killed." 



"Like I said, crazy!" 



"I prefer to watch the pelicans." I pointed out the birds to Todd, but he seemed more interested in the jumpers, as I myself had been the first few times I had come here. 



We stayed an hour before I said, "There is much else to see, and few hours in the day." 



"I think I've seen those guys brave death long enough, but I need a picture of you, lovely Juanita." 



"Todd, really!" 



He aimed his camera, and I smiled, happy to please him. If only every day could be this way, but, of course, I knew it couldn't. Sooner or later, Todd would return home, to California, and I would remain behind, in Acapulco, with a broken heart that might never mend. 



He pocketed his camera. "Where to next, beautiful <em>senorita</em>?" 



"The twin beaches of <em>Playa Caleta</em> and <em>Caletilla</em>." 



"Lead the way." 



We drove through winding avenues, up and down steep hills, past shops, restaurants, and bars. A variety of traffic clogged the avenue. Cars, trucks, and buses were painted as bright and colorful as the buildings. Signs and banners competed for attention, advertising everything from <em>hambuguesas</em> and Coca-Cola to buffet menus and Corona beer. I was used to the vibrant chaos of Acapulco's business sectors, which mixed roadside stands with stands of trees and offered everything imaginable, with as much crammed into a block as possible. The mix was eclectic and incongruous. To someone from another country, it was a rich, almost overwhelming melange. I watched Todd as he glanced to his right and his left, trying to take in the varied architecture and landscaping we passed <em>en route</em> to our destination. I wondered what he thought of this part of the city. 



"Mexico is beautiful," he said. 



I laughed. "Acapulco is—or, at least, some parts of it are—just as much of my country is beautiful. But it also has squalor born of poverty and political corruption. It could be much more beautiful. It could be a paradise." 



He nodded. "But I love the terraced buildings, the lush landscaping, and the bright colors. In the United States, except in a few places along the coasts, you don't usually see buildings painted red and purple and blue." 



I smiled. "We are colorful people, Todd." I loved is name, so different than those of my own countrymen, Anglican and exotic to my ears. I loved it because it belonged to him, too." 



We passed the <em>Acamar Hotel con Playa</em>, with its iconic stylized sailboat afloat on the suggestion of a wave above its name. Built in the shape of a wide wedge, the building, half a block in area, rose to a height of six stories, all windows and balconies, its tiers festooned with palms and hanging plants. 



"Park there," I suggested, pointing to an available spot. "The beach is only a block away, to the south." 



"Which, <em>Playa Caleta</em> or <em>Caletilla</em>?" 



"<em>Caletilla</em>, but they are side by side." I paused. "Like us. Why, does it matter?" 



"Not if I'm with you." 



My heart melted. I hoped he was as smitten with me as I was with him. 



We held hands as we strolled through the street. Between <em>La Cabana</em>, with its long, thatched roof, and the <em>Acamar Hotel</em>, we could see patches of the blue umbrellas and pavilions, the golden sand, and the blue waters of Acapulco Bay. Many boats plied the placid surface, on their way to or from <em>Magic Mundo Marino</em> and beyond. 



"Everywhere we go, Mexico presents another sort of beauty," Todd said. He squeezed my hand. "None compares to yours." 



We stayed on the beach for an hour, soaking up the sun, watching the gulls wheel, crying in the sky, and standing just beyond the crash of incoming surf, looking out over the bay. 



"I was hoping we'd see a few thong bikinis," Todd quipped. 



"You had better be joking," I warned, giving him an arch look. 



He grinned. "Maybe I'll buy you one, to wear for me." 



I laughed. "What makes you so certain I do not have one already?" 



"Mexican women are known for their modesty." 



"In public, <em>si</em>," I agreed. 



# # # 



We saw a few more sights, but, all too soon, the day was done. As evening drew on, Todd wined and dined me on the terrace of the <em>Hotel Camino Real</em>, in <em>Acapulco Diamante</em>, on the city's south side, overlooking the sea, palms and mountains in the distance. 



"I can't tell you how much enjoyed being with you today," Todd told me. 



"I feel the same way." The sun, dipping into the sea beyond the horizon, spilled its light over the oak beams of the floor, adding to the feeling of warmth the wine and the close proximity of the gorgeous American blond had imparted to the terrace. Seated at the tall table in my broad, sturdy oak chair with its high back and strong arms, I felt secure. I gazed out, over the sea, watching the breakers. The endless incoming waves suggested we had all the time in the world, but, of course, we didn't. It was nearly 80:00 pm. Our date would be officially over in four hours. 



"Along with his BMW, Carlos loaned me his condo," Todd announced, showing me the key he took from the side pocket of his sports coat. "He's staying in a hotel, downtown, tonight." 



The glory of the sunset seemed to pale, and the evening, once enriched by romance, felt suddenly tawdry. I had imagined I had meant something to this gringo, but it seemed I was just a piece of ass to him, as I had been to all the others. Draining the remnant of my wine, I said, "We had better go, then." My voice sounded curt, even to me. 



"Yes, I'd better get you home." He frowned. "I don't know your address." 



"My address?" His comment perplexed me. "Why would you want my address?" 



"It would be difficult to drive you home without it." 



"You mean you do not want to—" 



"I do, but not tonight." 



I shook my head. "Why not? You won me, fair and square." 



"That's why not," he explained. "If and when we make love, it has to be because we both want it, not because I broke open a <em>pinata</em>." 



I half-sobbed, half-grinned. This <em>hombre</em> was definitely a keeper, if he was mine to keep, that is. "It is not midnight yet," I protested. 



He smiled. "What do you want to do?" 



"Talk." 



"Here?" 



I shook my head. 



"Where, then?" 



"At Carlos' condo." 



# # # 



Todd offered me a drink from Carlos' well-stocked bar. 



I declined. 



We sat on the veranda, a candle lit on the wicker table standing before our matching chairs. Overhead, the black-velvet night glittered with stars, and the scent of the sea came to us on the sultry breeze. María Grever's "<em>Júrame</em>" played over the speakers inside the condo, adding to the magic of the night. 



Todd slipped his hand over mine. 



I had one more secret to share, and it was time to reveal it. I swallowed the fear that threatened to choke me, fought the tears seeking to rise in my eyes, and forced myself not to frown. Under the table before me, I balled my hands into fists. They shook. <em>Breathe. In, through the nose; out, through the mouth.</em> Todd and I had experienced so much in just a day. I wanted him and not for four hours or a couple of weeks. Now, in telling him my final secret, I feared I might yet lose him. 



"Yesterday," I told him, "was arranged." 



For a moment, Todd did not respond. "Arranged? What do you mean?" 



"Planned, all of it, from the moment Carlos knew you were coming to town. He told me he visited you while he was in California a few months ago and invited you to join him in Acapulco, and you agreed. That is when he—when he and I—arranged everything." 



"You're part of it?" 



"<em>Si</em>." 



Another moment passed in silence. 



"My night out at <em>El Pinata</em>, your choosing me to break the bull, our date—all of it was 'arranged.'" 



"<em>Si</em>. Carlos owns <em>El Pinata</em>." 



Todd's voice was cold. "Does he own you, too?" 



I felt fire flash in my eyes. "No one <em>owns</em> me." 



"Then why are we here?" 



My tone softened. "Because I like you." 



He pulled his hand from mine. "What, exactly, did you and Carlos hope to get out of this little <em>charade</em>? Money?" 



"Love." I looked out, over the ocean. Its waters were dark under the darkened sky. "What time is it?" <em>Whatever time it is, it is too late.</em> 



He consulted his watch. "Half past eight." His tone was cold. 



I stood, the hem of my mini-skirt falling about my thighs. My nipples, stiff and swollen inside my tank top, were firm pokies. My "clit," as I sometimes referred to my cock, was engorged with blood and very much in need of relief. 



"You're not leaving?" 



"You do not seem interested in my staying." 



"Of course, I am." 



"You did not sound interested a moment ago." 



"You just told me today had been 'arranged.'" 



"It was arranged, <em>si</em>, but only because what Carlos told me about you described the man I have been seeking, both in my waking life and in my dreams. I thought a dream date with you might lead to a dream come true." 



"It still could." 



"I do not see how. Your attitude changed. Until now, you have been courteous and respectful to me. I believed you were interested in me. Then, when I told you this date was arranged, you became distant and cold." 



"I was surprised. A little shocked, in fact. I was hurt, too, because of your deceit—and because I do care for you, and about you, very much. I had the best time of my life today, with you. And, in the end, you did confide in me, telling me not one secret, but two. It is not easy to share confidences. To do so means a person cares enough, and is brave enough, to risk rejection." 



"Nevertheless, I am leaving." 



I paused, watching him. His shoulders slumped. Tears sparkled in his eyes. 



I smiled. "How else would I get to the bedroom?" 



My question put a smile on Todd's face. 



His eagerness to follow me into Carlos' bedroom brought a smile to <em>my</em> face, or would have, had I not suppressed the expression. I was thrilled the good-looking young American, knowing my secret, still wanted to make love to me. 



In the past, upon learning I am both male and female and, yet, at the same time, neither fully one nor the other, most men have abandoned me, insulted me, or even beaten me, a couple almost to death. Most people, men, in particular, like everyone to fit into neat, preconceived categories. Those who do not can expect mistreatment and abuse. 



Men like Todd, who are confident enough about their own masculinity to accept concepts of gender that do not conform to societal norms, are rare. But the true test of his openness would be determined by whether he would follow through in making love to me. 



Some men <em>think</em> they can. They believe intimacy with a member of the "third sex" will be exotic and intoxicating. But, when the moment arrives, they are overcome with horror, afraid to experience the taboo, terrified they will lose their manhood. 



Would handsome Todd be among them? 



I'd find out soon enough. 



Carlos has good taste. His condo is well-furnished, and his bedroom is no exception. Its centerpiece is the king-size, four-poster bed carved with angels in pursuit of demons. The angels are dressed in flowing robes, carved into the wood, but the demons are naked, the females showing large breasts and shaggy pubes, the males huge erections and big, low-hanging balls. The pillars of the bed are upright phalli, the canopy a dome shaped like a breast. The other furniture in the room is elegant as well, but none bear the sexual scene carved into the ornate bed. 



Taking my hand in his, Carlos turned me toward him. We stood close, looked into each other's eyes, into one another's souls. 



Holding me, he kissed me, his hungry lips pressing hard against my own. 



As I returned his kiss, I felt his hands slide down my back, over the cheeks of my derriere. His fingers squeezed the firm, sleek mounds beneath my mini-skirt. My small boobs, pressed against his sculpted pecs, flattening between us. My nipples were hard, insistent, like his erection, which thrust against me through his slacks. 



"Get undressed," he ordered. 



A minute later, we stood naked. 



Todd started to don a condom. Taking it from him, I rolled the latex tube down, over his dick, for him. 



We kissed, our tongues swirling around one another. 



I felt flushed, and my stiff nipples, like my cock, throbbed. 



Through the condom, I saw that Todd's own erection, easily five times the size of my own and "cut," just the way I like them. It stood, stiff and swollen, upright, in all its glory. His balls, risen inside his tightened scrotum, were big and heavy-looking. Curious, I cupped them in my hand, lifting them. The skin of his scrotum was like velvet. His balls weren't much heavier than most, though. Their size merely suggested they might be. Still, they were more than a handful. More than a mouthful, too, I was sure. Not that I'd let that stop me. 



Taking his hands in mine, I led him to the bed, and he seated himself on the edge of the mattress. Kneeling before him, I bowed low, opening my mouth to let my lips slide down, around the acorn shape of his cock head. After pausing a moment, I plunged my mouth down his sleek column of flesh, until my face crushed against his pubes and lower abdomen. 



I held him in my oral embrace for a long moment, letting him feel the soft warmth of my liquid mouth. Then, slowly, I retreated, allowing his rigid dick to reappear, inch by slow inch, through my rounded lips. The tip of his prick still inside my mouth, I made eye contact with him. The look of pleasure on his face proved Todd was enjoying himself. 



I licked the shaft of his manhood, descending with every stroke of my tongue, until I was eye-level with his balls. I took one of his oversize nuts into my mouth, keeping it there, warm and wet. Then, releasing it, I gobbled up its twin, holding it in the interior of my mouth. After a moment, freeing it, I lapped the soft skin of his sac, jiggling his balls inside their taut, soft pouch of flesh. 



Tilting my head sideways, I ran my parted lips up his long, hard shaft, flicking the underside of the purple crown of his florid cock fast and hard. 



A moan escaped his lips. 



The sound made me tremble, for I know I was giving him pleasure. 



His response kindled the hope in me that, at last, with Todd, I'd found both a man I could love and a man who would love me back. 



We'll see, the cynic in me said. 



We will, indeed, the optimist replied. 



My head dipped, my lips sliding down his long, swollen shaft. The tumescent length of the smooth, hard column of flesh delighted me. 



My own dick, already stiff, became more rigid still, and my nipples, swollen and erect, seemed ready to explode. Down, girl! Your turn will come. 



My head bobbed up and down, as the circle of my lips plunged and rose, riding his saliva-slick prick. Todd squirmed, his thighs flexing. His spine straightened, relaxed, straightened again. He was breathing fast. At his sides, his fists clutched the bedspread. 



I let his dick slide free of my mouth. A strand of spit connected its purple crown to my pink lips. "Lie back, and enjoy yourself," I recommended. 



He did as I'd suggested, letting his upper body fall backward, onto the mattress. 



I took his cock in my fist, working the taut skin quickly up and down on the rigid shaft as I leaned in, kissing and licking his big balls. He rolled his hips. His breath came, now, in pants. Holding him near the top of his dick, I took him into my mouth again, masturbating him as, rocking my body, I pumped my lips back and forth over the tip of his manhood and ran the palm of my free hand to and fro, over his left side. 



As I continued to minister to him with my hand and mouth, I increased the tempo of my movements. Rolling my mouth off his glans, I licked at the underside of the gumdrop tip, licked the thick, glistening shaft, and then resumed licking and sucking the plum-colored crown of his cock. My hair swayed with the rhythm of my movements, tickling my brow and neck, although, concentrating on the task at hand, I hardly felt the brush of the soft strands. 

<hr pg="3" />Sticking my tongue out, I knocked the upper shaft of his dick against the muscle a few times, then licked its head with long, slow strokes, as if it were an ice cream cone. Next, I slowed the pace, taking him deep, holding him, then withdrawing, as I clenched the base of his organ in my fist, lavishing attention on the entire length of his erection. 



Replacing my mouth with my hand, I tugged the flesh back and forth, up and down, on the standing shaft, pausing on the upstroke to draw the inside of my forefinger lightly across the dome of his hard-on. Licking the tiny slit in the tip of his cock, I saw a drop of pre-cum gathered at the tip of the condom. Todd was near orgasm. Not wanting to ruin the fun, I slowed my pace. 



Todd's hands found the top of my head. "Stop, Juanita." 



"Is there a problem?" 



"It's your turn." 



He stood, and I exchanged places with him. Seated, as he'd been, on the edge of the mattress, I lay back, my legs spread wide. Half-erect, my miniature version of Todd's manliness jutted into the air. 



After pulling a fresh condom over my girlie cock, Todd knelt before me. As he bent forward, his lips brushed the gumdrop tip of my "clit." He licked the tight clump of my hormone-shrunken balls, through the loose pouch of my wrinkled scrotum. As a result of my having taken estrogen pills for a few years now, I'd developed a nice pair of "B"-cup-size boobs, and my nuts had gotten smaller, but my scrotum hadn't shrunken as much as I'd like, and the skin seemed to be comparatively large, although my doctor didn't agree with my assessment. Todd didn't seem to mind, though. He licked my tiny balls with as much gusto as I'd licked his own. 



Immediately, my dick swelled, stiffening further, and my balls rose inside my tightening scrotum. Taking my tiny cock between his thumb and first two fingers, the way I did when pleasuring myself—I was never too big down there, and, after being on hormones for a while, I was too small to wrap a hand around—Todd jiggled and bounced my diminutive organ atop my nuts, pausing, now and then, to stroke it. 



When I became as erect as I could, he nuzzled me down there with his nose and mouth, licking my pud with the tip of his tongue and rubbing my balls with his hands. 



"Todd, stop." 



"Why? I'm enjoying this." 



"I'd rather you do something else." 



"Name it." 



"I want you inside me." 



<em>Now was the moment of truth. In the past, men had fondled me. A few had even jerked me off or sucked my dick. But few had gone all the way. Would Todd?</em> 



"Do you have a favorite position?" 



"I like them all, but let's start with doggy style." 



"Suits me." 



I got onto my elbows and knees, with my ass high in the air, facing Todd. He stood at the side of the bed, between my calves. The condoms we wore were lubricated, so we didn't have to worry about that. 



I felt his dick brush past my cleavage. When his rubbery glans met the stout resistance of the ring of muscle guarding the portal to my bowels, he pressed forward resolutely with his hips, and I felt the big mushroom head of his cock widen me. 



Abruptly, he penetrated me, the thick girth of his manhood sliding into my ass. 



He entered me fully, his pubes, balls, and upper thighs grinding hard against the sleek flesh of my upper legs and butt cheeks. Then, he partially withdrew, and I felt his thick, rigid shaft slide backward, through the wide-stretched opening into my most intimate parts. 



He drove home, filling me; retreated, and filled me again, repeating these actions rapidly, with force and energy. I felt as if I were connected to a machine, so quick, deep, and fluid were his motions. 



I was delighted to have him inside me, stuffing me, possessing me. He had followed through! He was making love to me, completely and without reservation! The fact that I, too, had a dick, and that I, too, had a pair of balls, didn't bother him. 



As he continued to fuck me, I countered his forward thrusts with my rearward counter-thrusts, our two bodies moving in tandem, in unison. 



He caught my ankles in his hands, holding them, as he continued to pound my ass. My stuffed derriere, flattening before each of his thrusts, rebounded as he retreated. He quickened his pace, lunging and plunging into my depths and hammering my bottom. He rammed me so fiercely and frantically I felt I was being assaulted, but I did not care. I was, in fact, delighted. His zeal was wonderful! 



Letting go of my ankles, he placed his hands on my shoulders, pulling me backward as he slammed forward and letting the bounce of the mattress propel me forward as he draw back so he could plunge his dick into me yet again. Then, he was clutching my hips, as he continued to fuck me, hard and fast, his rigid cock a piston inside me. 



I lay down, on my tummy, spread my legs farther apart, and held my ass elevated, as Todd, joining me on the mattress, straddled my thighs, supporting his weight on the palms of his hands, which were on either side of me. Bouncing up and down on top of me, he jabbed his cock into me with rapid, short strokes. Beneath me, my tiny dick and balls bounced and swayed in time with my lover's. Again and again, Todd filled me, half-vacated me, and stuffed me anew. Where did he get the stamina? He was like a machine! 



Todd lifted a leg, swung his body over me, and rolled to the side. "Missionary." 



I lay down, turned onto my back, and spread my legs, bending my knees sharply so my thighs rested next to my ribs. 



Kneeling below my bottom, Todd inserted his dick into me. 



I smiled up at him, and he smiled back. I liked the fact we could see each other, face to face. My eyes swept over his handsome features, took in his broad shoulders, his deep chest, his chiseled abs. Looking down, I could see his lower abdomen as he rocked backward and forward, sending his dick in and out of my ass. His groin banged my perineum as he drove forward, then the faint pressure vanished as he drew his hips back again, his prick sliding backward, through the opening to my bottom. 



Each time he drove his rigid manhood into me, I rejoiced. His repeated thrusts into my depths emphasized and reinforced my assurance of his love, for each stroke was an affirmation of his passion, of his acceptance of me, of his devotion. <em>Fuck me! Give me every inch of your love!</em> 



My own dick was thick and swollen, and I massaged it as Todd fucked me. I wanted to delay orgasm, but I was too excited, sexually and emotionally, and my rebellious balls emptied themselves, their lotion-thick semen spurting into my condom's reservoir tip, creamy white inside the latex sheath. 



As I came, Todd's body stiffened, and he shuddered, gasping. He thrust into me, hard and deep, still quivering, as he spilled his virile fluid into his condom. Spent and exhausted, he lowered himself onto me, gently, and we embraced, kissing, our hands caressing and fondling. His strong fingers flicked my nipples, kneaded my breasts, slid along my thighs. My hands roamed his back, scratched his bottom, and squeezed the cheeks of his firm, compact ass. 



He rolled off me, and we lay together, side by side. 



"I've been looking for a man like you all my life," I told him. 



"And I've been looking for a woman like you." 



"Are you still angry with Carlos and me?" 



"I was, at first." 



"And now?" 



"No. How could I be?" 



"Does that mean you want a second date?" 



"I want to get to know you better." 



"I want to know you better, too, Todd. I want to know all about you." 



"I will be here, in Acapulco, for another two weeks. Maybe, when I head home, you will come with me?" 



"I cannot. I cannot afford to give up my job. I have many mouths I have to feed, remember? I have responsibilities, Todd." 



"And I have a trust fund, Juanita, a very substantial one. You needn't worry about working anymore, and your family needn't worry about food, clothing, shelter, medical care, or anything else, ever again, whether we decide we're right for one another or not. I am depositing five million dollars in a local bank account tomorrow. It's for them—and you—no matter what we decide about us." 



"I don't know what to say." 



"Say you will come home with me. Let me show you around San Diego, as you have shown me around Acapulco. Say you will explore the possibility of becoming more than an <em>amiga</em>. " 



"But my secret, Todd. What will your family think?" 



"If I am happy, they will be happy, and I can't think of anything that would make me happier than for you to give me a chance to prove what you mean to me, Juanita." 



"I think I will like San Diego, Todd. In fact, I'm sure I will love it, because I will be with you." 



We kissed and kissed. 



And we made love again. 



Afterward, we slept, forming a pair of spoons, and Todd's groin and my derriere were a perfect fit.

