A Transvestite Love

"Are you sure you want to go inside?" Heather asked.

"Of course. I mean, we've come so far, haven't we?" I said.

"But you know what I am." Her eyes seemed sad – her tone emotionless. Just moments earlier we were having dinner and those eyes were bright and the conversation cheerful. It was like we were in another world, but now reality was sinking in.

"Look, I know who your are."

I paused for a moment. She was so beautiful. Long blonde hair, soft facial features, full breasts and a narrow waist with the tightest ass that shaped the silver sequined dress she was wearing nicely.

All night I kept admiring her shapely toned legs within her shear hose and sexy straps on her high-heels that tied around her ankles. Her dress was shoulder less and her lips were soft and full.

She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, much less been out with. No one would ever imagine she was a man.

"What matters is not what you are...it's who you are." I said.

Heather's eyes brightened. She put the key in her apartment door.

For the record, my name is Brad and I'm not gay. Well, not clearly gay. Maybe, I'm bisexual and a closet one at that. It's like I told Heather.

In college my roommate and I experimented, I guess is the best way to put it. For him, it probably was more than an experiment because he now lives with a guy. He and I had sex maybe a dozen times in the dorms during that last year – or last month really.

It started as a dare – a dare that we both knew arose out of curiosity about having sex with another man. By the third time we were fucking like crazy – to heck with dares and curiosity.

It was already near the end of our senior year, so we had to make a decision. To be honest, I loved the sex with him. It was hot, steamy and incredibly sensual. My yardstick had been fraternity girls who were absolutely gorgeous, but something was missing in bed with them.