Transsexual Heaven

The day arrived, and I drove down to the city. I checked in to
my hotel, and went wandering around the streets and avenues
surrounding Times Square. The peep shows weren't on 42nd street
anymore, but they were within a few blocks. I found a store with
T-Girls, and spent several hours going from booth to booth. I
was growing delirious with lust. I had to have one of them. I
settled on one particular woman, and tipped her so she would
slide a dildo up her ass while I watched. I jerked off while
watching this, and shot my load on the window between the booths.
I smiled at the object of my desire and left.

After dinner, I decided. That would give me time to recover so I
could enjoy this long-time fantasy coming to fulfillment. I
spent the rest of the day walking around the city. I didn't need
to be at the convention center until 9:00 the next morning, so I
was on my own for the day.

Finally, it was dinnertime. After eating, I returned to my
hotel room, showered and dressed. I went to a newsstand not far
from my hotel and picked up a copy of Screw. I returned to my
room, and started reading the current ads. I saw several who
looked good, and, believe it or not, several pictures which I
remembered from 20 years ago. I figured either they were not
photos of the girls, or they just didn't bother updating them.
Either way, I passed on those. Finally, I found one.

She was lovely, at least her picture was. She was an ebony
goddess. Her ad said she was 5'4, 115 pounds, 36c 26 36, 9"
uncut. She claimed to be of Brazilian, African American and
French ancestry. She went on to state that she was male to
female and was still able to cum.

This is it, I thought to myself, and picked up the phone. A
sultry, deep voice answered and we discussed my reason for
calling. She said she did out calls, and knew the hotel I was
in. An hour was $150, during which anything goes, with no limits
as to how many times I could cum. She would bring the condoms.
I asked it the picture I was looking at was really her. She told
me to look through the peephole when she arrived. If I wasn't
happy with how she looked, I should just not open the door and
she would leave.