I had sex with a shemale in ninenties’ Bucharest. I did.

I was twenty years old. A crude little kid. Naïve and still quite childish for that age which, anyways, does not really make the boy a man just yet. What was I thinking? Well, I’m not sure whether it was just the touch of a reckless impulse to experiment or whether it was my unencumbered love for women, women of all sorts, exotic, young, mature, sublime, whether they happened to have a dick or not. Maybe even more so. Who knows?

Regardless, it was the end of the nineties, before the Internet’s ease of access blessed upon us, when I happened to stumble upon a paper ad. I believe it was România Liberă, at the time still open to a highly varied ad section.

The ad spoke of a woman visiting from Cuba, it spoke of the short time she would be staying on our shores and underlined the uniqueness of the occasion of meeting this particularly beautiful Daymelis in consequence. I rang the phone number mentioned in the ad and was greeted by a cheerful Romanian young girl who, even though I was quite decided myself, still insisted to convince me I had made a right choice to call with a repeated but, in hindsight, quite honest discourse as ‘after all, love bears NO limits, does it?

romania_libera      The famous romanian newspaper România Liberă, 1990

The price was exhaustingly high, in accordance with the uniqueness of the occasion, I assumed, but I had nothing to complain about the $150 fee. My eagerness to meet the beautiful foreigner far exceeded my surprise that I would be willing to pay my month’s salary for the endeavor.

The meeting took place somewhere behind a building at the edge of town where I was greeted by two young, unfashionable ladies who were happy to take my money and actually pardoned themselves for the exquisiteness of the fee, explaining that it was of unfathomable use to Daymelis, who was undergoing a hormonal treatment, something I wasn’t quite eager to learn.cartierul dristorBucharest neighbourhood, Dristor

I was walked into the apartment building and took an elevator to the floor where Daymelis was waiting for me. The young lady who walked me to the door assured me time would not be a problem and shuffled out of sight with a smile.
Daymelis was a mullata, her hair curly and her swooning body almost athletic. Wearing only a slim single lingerie piece assorted with high heels, she greeted me with a low ‘Ola’.

She didn’t speak the language and to this day I have no clue as to how she even got in acquaintance with the two bland girls, but she was most certainly from the exotic Cuba. Her every pore exuded the exoticism of a distant world, far away from this cul-de-sac.

As soon as the door closed behind us I realized the time had finally come to take my clothes off and end my part of the contract, but I soon found myself paralyzed by a very brutal yet fair enough question – ‘what the hell am I doing here?’ I worked up some courage, trying to talk myself into believing the whole scene would go perfectly fine and scavenging for any remains of that brute sexual impulse that had driven me all the way here in the first place. Daymelis looked at me with kind eyes and, with surprising politeness, described in a sensual Spanish the sum of our common sexual options. I barely picked up on the info.

With graceful agility she placed a condom on my wimpy cock which, if before it lay shriveled in the package of my underwear, was now undergoing a reverse erection, as if trying to hide in the confides of the goddamn ball-sack.

That’s when she flashed her own dang to give herself the protection of a condom. One look was all it took to be blasted by the shame and the unique surprise of finding myself well beneath the cock prowess of the very woman I’d come to fuck. ‘How wicked is that?’, I asked myself, and tried to find some soothing in the thought that at the very least I wouldn’t be purchasing some sort of rare Cuban Aids.

‘How do I overcome this awkward inhibition?’, I asked myself, and the only solution I could find was rambling like a lunatic about random stuff in an English I am still sure meant nothing to her. Since someone had to actually get things going after all this multi-linguistic babble, Daymelis served me the first dish of the night’s menu. She gathered both our cocks in her hand and started performing what to her must have been a classic double wank. I knew by the proficiency of her hand motions that I was receiving some sort of standard foreplay.

The rest of my questions regarding Daymelis’ true sexual nature were answered when I shuffled my hands over her small, perky tits and felt a layer of hard silicone just below her skin. ‘Of course. Well what did you think, you wanker, that there’s amazing women out there who also happen to have a full grown dick on?’, my inner voice scolded me, as I was learning just how naïve I could be.

Finally, not having much success in getting my cock hard, Daymelis dropped to her knees and sucked my cock in between her amazing lips, careful enough not to slip the damned condom off my weary dick like bubblegum. She then asked if maybe I desired to return the favor and, what do you know? After all of her politeness and care, I just couldn’t possibly offend her so I quickly found myself full-time employed in the act of full-heartedly blowing a tanned Cuban guy in a filthy apartment at the edge of town.

And to add to the funked-up-ness of the whole biz, I’m actually faking liking it. That’s when I first wondered – ‘Am I actually faking it or liking it? Is this a slight wave of pleasure I’m detecting? Am I gay?’ Well, that’s a test I must’ve passed somehow since, even though there’s a multitude of feelings returning along with memories of that particular moment, I am quite sure feeling pleased is not one of them.

shemalephoto credits 

Knowing what was next in the menu, Daymelis casually asked pointing to my ass – ‘Hacerlo a cuatro patas?’ That’s when I felt her finger zoning in on my asshole and panic soon set in – ‘God!’ I’d come to fuck someone. My cock was squeaky clean, but when had I last properly cleaned my ass?

With that thought in mind, I started sensing a distinct shit-hole perfume spreading out of my ass and all over that shitty neighbourhood. ‘No, no, no’, I firmly made it clear that this was not going to happen. I had, at the very least, the rightful choice as to where my money would go, and my own ass was certainly not the place.

Daymelis turned her ass around for me with arousing obedience. Trying to shove my still emotionally scarred pecker inside of her, about half-way in I came. That was it. I had come. I don’t think it was any sort of sexual pleasure involved. To this day I bear this certainty that my cock chose to cum and get things through with and thus bailed on me, in reasonable self-defense.

No other politeness involved, I disappeared out of that joint. Trying to come to terms with what had just happened, still frightened and restless, I called on my best friend. ‘Look what just happened to me!’ I cried. ‘Look what I just fucking did!’ I played the victim. ‘Relax’, he told me with a soothing calm, ‘So you fucked a guy, no big deal. It’s not the worst that could happen. You walk straight home, take a shower and move on’.
‘Oh, and since you take that shower’, I thought, ‘you’d best clean your damned ass better this time’.

Primary photo source

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