Cautionary Tales:Not Sexy, but Can Be Helpful
This is another autobiographical slice of my life, and it contains real, not fantasy, violnce. If that offends you, don't read.
The place is closed now, but back in the days when I was younger, sexier, and probably hornier, there was a place called the Grotto in the medium-sized city where I live. It was known as a pickup bar for Gays, TG's, and Lesbians, and was a place where the "rough trade" crowd hung out, the young, male prostitutes who would fuck a Gay man or let him fellate them for a price. I think that the Grotto became popular with the alternate lifestyle crowd because the drinks were both a reasonable cost and a generous size, and it had music that adults could listen to instead of the 110 Decibel techno/disco sound which was standard for straight bars at the time. People could hold actual conversations without shouting, and in a place where sex was going down that's important. The place was very dark, and I know for a fact that there were probably a dozen blowjobs and maybe a few fucks delivered every Saturday nite in the secluded booths at the rear. I never went to the bar alone, but occasionally would go there on a weekend with a couple of friends to see how the other half lived, if not actually experience it. So, one hot evening in July or August, three other girls and I were roaming around after meeting up at my place for a couple of drinks, and we decided to go to the Grotto to listen to some music and see if there were any horny M2F Admirers.
We were all in our mid thirties to late forties, and were wearing summery clothes. I was wearing a flouncy summer dress, one of those things which you see genetic women wearing everywhere on hot days, bare shoulders and arms, with spaghetti straps and an elastic band just above the bust, a fitted waistline, and a full skirt which had a hemline just between the calf and ankle. Underneath the dress, I had only a pair of small breast forms, more like cutlets with nipples, glued to my skin, and a pair of thong panties, and on my feet just a pair of flip-flops. With the full skirt and the thongs, I felt almost naked and quite sexy. I was in the habit of wearing heavier makeup, eyeliner, eyeshadow, false eyelashes, press-on fingernails, and flashy costume jewelry, and I had a very sexy wig I wore at that time which was long and auburn, with a mild wave, and I had a plastic tiara headband, and looked good, even if I do say so myself. My friends were each dressed a bit sluttier, as my memory recalls it, with short mid-thigh dresses, leather mini's, as their look. I wasn't the youngest, but because I was slender and fit and moved gracefully, I was considered to be the sexiest of the group.
We arrived at the bar, which was pretty full, with all of the booths and tables taken, and just a few seats at the bar, so we ordered drinks and stood and chatted, and listened to the music, which typically would have been some sort of progressive rock, or jazz. There were some Admirers there, including a few guys I already knew, and we chatted about the scene, who was hot, who was not, and just generally maintaining the status quo. After a while, I started chatting with a younger guy, who looked like he could have been one of the guys who was there to collect some cash in exchange for access to his cock. I asked him point-blank if he was in the trade, and he told me that he had done it a few times, but that he was at the bar just to relax and see what was going on. He made it pretty damn clear that he did enjoy fucking gurls, and asked if I was interested in getting a room and getting naked. I replied that I might be, but that I had my friends with me, and that I was the driver for the group. He accepted that, and drifted off to a table where he was sitting with some of his friends.
About fifteen minutes later, the young man came back to me and said that he was going out to the parking lot to smoke some weed, and asked if I'd like to join him. Not wanting to appear like a Wuss who would turn down some free weed from a stranger, I agreed, and we went out the back door together. I made a motion of taking a drag on a joint to one of my gurlfriends, and pointed out the door, and she waved back to me.
The young man was sort of a typical kind of blue collar type you'll see in the Rust Belt, late 20's, not quite six foot tall, a hundred sixty or seventy pounds, muscular but not "ripped," and wearing jeans and a black tee. For the life of me, I cannot remember the color of his eyes, but my memory is that his hair was a non-remarkable brown color, and he was neither memorably handsome nor ugly.
We walked to his vehicle, a late model crew cab pickup truck with a bed cap, and stood near it in a place where it would be difficult for a police cruiser to see us smoking if one checked the lot. He produced two joints, gave me one, and we lit up. We chatted while getting high, about ordinary stuff, and maybe ten minutes later, about the time we were finishing the joints, his friends came ambling out of the bar and walked down to his pickup truck. They lit up some tobacco cigarettes, and we stood talking there, me and three guys who had been strangers fifteen minutes before.
After finishing his cigarette, one of the friends sidled up to me, put his hand on my hip, and said, "So, whatta you say, Sugar, you gonna let Charlie fuck you now?" referring to the guy I had come outside with. I will remember the chilling effect of that comment forever, I think.
I sort of pivoted away from his hand, laughed, and said something to the effect that Charlie and I were just friends sharing a joint and some conversation, but that didn't discourage him. He moved in again and said that his cock was bigger than Charlie's and he knew just how to make a tranny bitch happy. I sort of squared up with him, and that's when the third man and Charlie grabbed me from the side and behind. My supposed buddy Charlie told me not to struggle, and to enjoy myself, and that's when the guy who'd been the first aggressor hit me fairly hard in the stomach. I didn't have time to tense my muscles, didn't see it coming, and it hurt and knocked the wind out of me, and before I knew the tailgate was down, I had been froced and carried into the bed of the truck, my dress was up above my waist, my thong had been pushed askew, and they were clustered around me, foricng my legs apart. It seemed pretty apparent that this was a technique they knew pretty well, and when I tried to struggle one of them hit me again, and told me I should go along with them or they would fuck me up, and fuck me anyway. I stupidly struggled a bit more, got slapped in the face for my trouble, and one of them grabbed my scrotum and squeezed it hard, and I cried out in pain. That's when I realized that I was at their mercy, and really was going to be rapde.
The actual experience was not pleasant. They pinned me on my back, held my arms over my head, held my knees wide apart, and took turns with me. No condoms, no lube, no foreplay, just spit and brutal spreading of my anus with fingers. The first guy hurt badly, friction and burning, but the second and the third guy were easier because they were lubricated by the first guy's cum. And, I will never get over this shame, I have to admit that by the time the third guy came inside me I was actually responding physically while hating it mentally.
Afterwards, I was totally useless, feeling totally dominated and humiliated, they pushed me out of the pickup bed, mockingly thanked me for being such a good piece of ass, and drove away. I was so upset and distraught I didn't even have the wits to get the license plate memorized.
I went back into the bar, told my friends what had happened, cleaned up my face in the restroom, and came home to shower and administer a mildly antiseptic douche. I supposed, upon reflection, that I should consider myself lucky that I had no broken teeth, and no serious facial bruises.
I wrestled with the idea of reporting the incident, and going to the hospital to get a rpe kit test done, and decided not to. I had too much to lose financially and societally, and considering the reputation of the bar there was always a chance that people might think that I had acquiesced. Plus, I had my closeted friends to consider, and to decide in my mind whether it would be ethical to have to identify them as witnesses. I did call the bar the next day and talked to the manager, who said that he didn't know the three men from my description, but if I saw them again in the bar and pointed them out he would ban them.
But, of course, I never went there again. I sweated out the possibility that one of the three might have had an STD, but was lucky in that regard.
I was stupid in this instance, because I just didn't consider that when I am presenting as a woman, predators consider me to be vulnerable like a woman. and I did something which very few genetic woman with feminine life experiences would have done. The more attractive and convincing I was with my wig, clothes, makeup, and mannerisms, the more likely it was they would consider they could treat me like a woman, and a potential victim. In fact, because predators like my rpists understand that a TG is much less likely to report an assault to the police that we are much more likely to be the objects of sexual predation. Some studies indicate that M2F transgender girls are twice as likely to be rapde at some point in their lives than genetic women.
In the final analysis, this made me identify more with genetic women, and made me analyze and recognize the reasons why I am trans, but the knowledge was purchased at a high cost.
!/ Btw, some words are misspelled, which is due to the censorship on the word processor which asterisks out words which are not "politically correct." On XHamster? Go figure.
The place is closed now, but back in the days when I was younger, sexier, and probably hornier, there was a place called the Grotto in the medium-sized city where I live. It was known as a pickup bar for Gays, TG's, and Lesbians, and was a place where the "rough trade" crowd hung out, the young, male prostitutes who would fuck a Gay man or let him fellate them for a price. I think that the Grotto became popular with the alternate lifestyle crowd because the drinks were both a reasonable cost and a generous size, and it had music that adults could listen to instead of the 110 Decibel techno/disco sound which was standard for straight bars at the time. People could hold actual conversations without shouting, and in a place where sex was going down that's important. The place was very dark, and I know for a fact that there were probably a dozen blowjobs and maybe a few fucks delivered every Saturday nite in the secluded booths at the rear. I never went to the bar alone, but occasionally would go there on a weekend with a couple of friends to see how the other half lived, if not actually experience it. So, one hot evening in July or August, three other girls and I were roaming around after meeting up at my place for a couple of drinks, and we decided to go to the Grotto to listen to some music and see if there were any horny M2F Admirers.
We were all in our mid thirties to late forties, and were wearing summery clothes. I was wearing a flouncy summer dress, one of those things which you see genetic women wearing everywhere on hot days, bare shoulders and arms, with spaghetti straps and an elastic band just above the bust, a fitted waistline, and a full skirt which had a hemline just between the calf and ankle. Underneath the dress, I had only a pair of small breast forms, more like cutlets with nipples, glued to my skin, and a pair of thong panties, and on my feet just a pair of flip-flops. With the full skirt and the thongs, I felt almost naked and quite sexy. I was in the habit of wearing heavier makeup, eyeliner, eyeshadow, false eyelashes, press-on fingernails, and flashy costume jewelry, and I had a very sexy wig I wore at that time which was long and auburn, with a mild wave, and I had a plastic tiara headband, and looked good, even if I do say so myself. My friends were each dressed a bit sluttier, as my memory recalls it, with short mid-thigh dresses, leather mini's, as their look. I wasn't the youngest, but because I was slender and fit and moved gracefully, I was considered to be the sexiest of the group.
We arrived at the bar, which was pretty full, with all of the booths and tables taken, and just a few seats at the bar, so we ordered drinks and stood and chatted, and listened to the music, which typically would have been some sort of progressive rock, or jazz. There were some Admirers there, including a few guys I already knew, and we chatted about the scene, who was hot, who was not, and just generally maintaining the status quo. After a while, I started chatting with a younger guy, who looked like he could have been one of the guys who was there to collect some cash in exchange for access to his cock. I asked him point-blank if he was in the trade, and he told me that he had done it a few times, but that he was at the bar just to relax and see what was going on. He made it pretty damn clear that he did enjoy fucking gurls, and asked if I was interested in getting a room and getting naked. I replied that I might be, but that I had my friends with me, and that I was the driver for the group. He accepted that, and drifted off to a table where he was sitting with some of his friends.
About fifteen minutes later, the young man came back to me and said that he was going out to the parking lot to smoke some weed, and asked if I'd like to join him. Not wanting to appear like a Wuss who would turn down some free weed from a stranger, I agreed, and we went out the back door together. I made a motion of taking a drag on a joint to one of my gurlfriends, and pointed out the door, and she waved back to me.
The young man was sort of a typical kind of blue collar type you'll see in the Rust Belt, late 20's, not quite six foot tall, a hundred sixty or seventy pounds, muscular but not "ripped," and wearing jeans and a black tee. For the life of me, I cannot remember the color of his eyes, but my memory is that his hair was a non-remarkable brown color, and he was neither memorably handsome nor ugly.
We walked to his vehicle, a late model crew cab pickup truck with a bed cap, and stood near it in a place where it would be difficult for a police cruiser to see us smoking if one checked the lot. He produced two joints, gave me one, and we lit up. We chatted while getting high, about ordinary stuff, and maybe ten minutes later, about the time we were finishing the joints, his friends came ambling out of the bar and walked down to his pickup truck. They lit up some tobacco cigarettes, and we stood talking there, me and three guys who had been strangers fifteen minutes before.
After finishing his cigarette, one of the friends sidled up to me, put his hand on my hip, and said, "So, whatta you say, Sugar, you gonna let Charlie fuck you now?" referring to the guy I had come outside with. I will remember the chilling effect of that comment forever, I think.
I sort of pivoted away from his hand, laughed, and said something to the effect that Charlie and I were just friends sharing a joint and some conversation, but that didn't discourage him. He moved in again and said that his cock was bigger than Charlie's and he knew just how to make a tranny bitch happy. I sort of squared up with him, and that's when the third man and Charlie grabbed me from the side and behind. My supposed buddy Charlie told me not to struggle, and to enjoy myself, and that's when the guy who'd been the first aggressor hit me fairly hard in the stomach. I didn't have time to tense my muscles, didn't see it coming, and it hurt and knocked the wind out of me, and before I knew the tailgate was down, I had been froced and carried into the bed of the truck, my dress was up above my waist, my thong had been pushed askew, and they were clustered around me, foricng my legs apart. It seemed pretty apparent that this was a technique they knew pretty well, and when I tried to struggle one of them hit me again, and told me I should go along with them or they would fuck me up, and fuck me anyway. I stupidly struggled a bit more, got slapped in the face for my trouble, and one of them grabbed my scrotum and squeezed it hard, and I cried out in pain. That's when I realized that I was at their mercy, and really was going to be rapde.
The actual experience was not pleasant. They pinned me on my back, held my arms over my head, held my knees wide apart, and took turns with me. No condoms, no lube, no foreplay, just spit and brutal spreading of my anus with fingers. The first guy hurt badly, friction and burning, but the second and the third guy were easier because they were lubricated by the first guy's cum. And, I will never get over this shame, I have to admit that by the time the third guy came inside me I was actually responding physically while hating it mentally.
Afterwards, I was totally useless, feeling totally dominated and humiliated, they pushed me out of the pickup bed, mockingly thanked me for being such a good piece of ass, and drove away. I was so upset and distraught I didn't even have the wits to get the license plate memorized.
I went back into the bar, told my friends what had happened, cleaned up my face in the restroom, and came home to shower and administer a mildly antiseptic douche. I supposed, upon reflection, that I should consider myself lucky that I had no broken teeth, and no serious facial bruises.
I wrestled with the idea of reporting the incident, and going to the hospital to get a rpe kit test done, and decided not to. I had too much to lose financially and societally, and considering the reputation of the bar there was always a chance that people might think that I had acquiesced. Plus, I had my closeted friends to consider, and to decide in my mind whether it would be ethical to have to identify them as witnesses. I did call the bar the next day and talked to the manager, who said that he didn't know the three men from my description, but if I saw them again in the bar and pointed them out he would ban them.
But, of course, I never went there again. I sweated out the possibility that one of the three might have had an STD, but was lucky in that regard.
I was stupid in this instance, because I just didn't consider that when I am presenting as a woman, predators consider me to be vulnerable like a woman. and I did something which very few genetic woman with feminine life experiences would have done. The more attractive and convincing I was with my wig, clothes, makeup, and mannerisms, the more likely it was they would consider they could treat me like a woman, and a potential victim. In fact, because predators like my rpists understand that a TG is much less likely to report an assault to the police that we are much more likely to be the objects of sexual predation. Some studies indicate that M2F transgender girls are twice as likely to be rapde at some point in their lives than genetic women.
In the final analysis, this made me identify more with genetic women, and made me analyze and recognize the reasons why I am trans, but the knowledge was purchased at a high cost.
!/ Btw, some words are misspelled, which is due to the censorship on the word processor which asterisks out words which are not "politically correct." On XHamster? Go figure.
7 年 前
always wore skimpy tops. someone -too- close to me started me on estrogen -too- young.
i was very skinny and girly n i couldn't fight at all. i was also "in the business"
i never reported them n i actually knew all of them. neighborhood assholes.
i always carried a clipit knife after than n kept it razor sharp.
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