Gay stories 

Jo, Shemale Goddess! Ch. 02

August 26, 2013 / by gaystory

Jo chuckled as the man in the sharp business suit looked hastily away when she looked up and caught him staring at her legs, again. Her ‘Rupaul’ legs as men with a history of watching men dressed as women called them, or her ‘Naomi’ legs as the newer ones to the scene seemed to think. Both divas had fabulous legs; Jo didn’t mind being compared to either and it was certainly flattering to be compared to some of the best legs in the celebrity world.

She had never seen the man in the bar before. She would have remembered someone of his height. And if he had accidentally wandered into The Pink Panther Bar thinking, as some people did, that it was a reference to the movie, he wouldn’t have stayed if he wasn’t curious or looking for some action.

Picking up her glass of Shiraz she sauntered over and introduced herself, “Hey, big boy. I’m Jo.”

“Hi Jo. I’m Alan.” The man flushed as he stood up and pulled out the empty chair at his table to seat Jo. “You’re probably wondering why I was staring at you earlier. You’re so beautiful I couldn’t help myself. Are you a model?”

“No, I’m a stylist. I work for Eboneé at the moment.”

“You know Eboneé! Wow! She’s a great singer, but so underrated because she’s not good looking. She needs a makeov—,” Alan stopped abruptly as he realized his faux pas. “I mean…”

Jo decided to take pity on the floundering man. “I know what you mean. If she looked like Rihanna or Beyoncé, she would sell ten times as many albums.”

“It really shouldn’t matter what she looks like,” Alan sympathized. “It should be about her voice. Things have changed so much in the last ten years. Actresses model, models act, singers act and model…the world has gone crazy.”

“I admire Eboneé for not changing her look.” Jo defended her employer even though she’d had dreams of making the singer into a Black Lady Gaga when she had first become her stylist, but she had soon realized that the singer was not comfortable in anything too fussy or stylish.

“In interviews she comes across as such a lovely person.” Alan still seemed to feel the need to make up for nearly putting his foot in his mouth. “She must be a great employer to work for.”

“She’s a sweetheart!” Jo readily confirmed.

Eboneé was polite and considerate of her staff. Wherever she went she introduced Jo as her stylist—which really wasn’t a recommendation. Jo consoled herself with the fact that she was well paid. And thank God really that Eboneé was not a diva. Jo was known to have her diva moments and two divas in the same room would have been asking for trouble.

Shorter than average, Eboneé was not slim or overweight. She was just broad and flat, her waist almost the same size as her narrow hips. Her breasts and behind were both boyishly small. Jo sometimes wondered in amusement if Eboneé realized her stylist had a cock. The woman undressed in front of her without embarrassment and Jo sometimes found herself getting hard as she watched Eboneé’s straight little body. She often wondered what the singer would do if she bent the woman over, whipped her cock out and gave her the ass fucking of her young life.

“So you must meet a lot of celebrities then,” Alan inquired, bringing Jo’s thoughts back to the present.

“Not many. Eboneé’s more likely to go to see a play, the ballet or the opera rather than go clubbing on a Saturday night.”

“I read somewhere that she’d already been accepted at Cambridge when she was discovered. I wondered if it was just a publicity stunt.”

“No, it’s true. She was going to study Art History. She’s an art connoisseur. I could learn a lot from her, if I liked that sort of thing.”

“So what sort of thing do you like?” Alan queried, his grey eyes lighting up behind the lens of his designer glasses as though he expected a naughty answer.

“I like fashion—the glamour, the jewellery, the celebrities, all of it.”

“You look like a celebrity yourself,” Alan complimented. “And I’ve never seen such gorgeous legs on anyone before.”

“Alan, have you ever slept with another man?” Jo asked bluntly. She knew that she passed as a woman to the untrained eye. Alan seemed a little naïve, he might have thought that he had stumbled across a real woman in a gay bar. Jo was horny, she had come to pick up someone for the night and if Alan wasn’t a possible candidate she didn’t want to waste too much time on him.

And the thought of turning him out was making her even hornier.

“I’ve been curious for a long time,” Alan admitted, flushing with embarrassment. “I came here tonight just to hang out and get the vibe of the place, but once I saw you….”

“You’ve hung out, now let’s get a taxi to my place and I’ll show you my vibe,” Jo promised with a suggestive wink.

Alan quickly downed his drink and let her lead him by the hand out of the club.

They were in luck. Fred, one of the taxi drivers who worked exclusively for the club, was parked in front of the club waiting. He was a father figure to the younger guys, getting them home safely when they had drunk too much or didn’t have the fare home. A gay basher had killed his youngest son at the age of twenty and the welfare of young gay men had become Fred’s number one concern since he’d retired two years ago. He stepped out of the taxi and scrutinized Alan from head to toe.

“Son, do you know this man well enough to be going anywhere with him?”

Jo laughed, even wearing a micro mini and five-inch heels, Fred called her ‘son’. Lucky she hadn’t lied to Alan or Fred would have given the game away.

“Fred, meet Alan, my new friend.”

Fred shook Alan’s hand. Jo smiled secretly as she saw Alan wince—Fred acted as though all strangers who slept with gay men were potential killers and gave them the third degree and a silent, ‘I’ve got my beady eye on you’ warning. If Alan had planned anything shady he would be rethinking it right about now.

“So where are you two boys off to?” Fred stepped back, assured that Alan had received his message loud and clear.

“We’re going to my flat, Fred. Step on the gas!”

Fred gave Alan one more flint-eyed stare before he unlocked the doors and let them into the taxi.

Alan was so unnerved by Fred, when Jo tried to kiss him, he hastily checked to see if the driver was watching them.

“Forget about Fred,” Jo instructed, rubbing her hand over the fat bulge of Alan’s groin. “He’s paying attention to the road, you pay attention to me.”

Alan relaxed a bit and kissed Jo back when she tried again, but she sensed that he wasn’t going to loosen up until they got to the privacy of her flat.

“So, what do you do for a living, Fred?” Jo asked, finally peeling her lips off his. She was so horny she had hoped to have them both primed by the time they got to her flat, but Alan was too uptight with Fred in such close proximity.

He’d better be worth her restraint!

“I work for the BBC—one of those photographers behind the scenes that no one sees.”

“Wow! That must be exciting!”

“It can be. You get used to it after a while. Well, you get used to most of it. I still get star struck when I meet famous people sometimes and I still get affected when people are hurt or killed, especially children.”

“I worked as a stylist for GMTV about four years ago,” Jo told him. “The money was great, but I only lasted three weeks. The early hours cramped my style. I partied all night, got home, had a shower and got dressed for work. I would have been dead if I hadn’t quit that job.”

“Is that how you met Eboneé?”

“No. I was doing hair and makeup for a diva called Manda Trent who got through the second round of X-Factor and started acting like she’d won the show. Her voice wasn’t all that, but she knew how to work the crowd. She would have gone further if she hadn’t sung ‘Hero’ and forgotten that she wasn’t Mariah! Simon loved her because she was a real drama queen and good for the ratings. He would have given her another chance if she had chosen a less popular song to massacre. Eboneé sang ‘Chrysalis’ on the same show and I had to do her makeup because her stylist got caught in a traffic jam on the M25. She loved the way I made her up and asked me if I wanted to work for her. Her old stylist had never turned up on time for anything and Eboneé is one of those always-early celebrities. When the woman finally got there almost an hour later, Eboneé fired her and hired me.”

“I’d love to meet her in person.”

From the eagerness in his voice Jo sensed that Alan was one of those people who truly appreciated Eboneé’s prestigious talent. She would arrange an introduction, she decided, if Alan proved satisfactory in bed.

“She’s in Antigua at the moment writing songs for her next album, staying at some place called Jumby Bay.” Jo opened the buttons of his jacket and stroking his chest through his soft, high-quality cotton shirt. “She asked me if I wanted to come out with her for a week or two, all expenses paid. I said yes until she told me that the hotel is some sort of retreat, cut off from the outside world with no phones or TV. Apparently people use it when they are burned out or need to generate fresh ideas. Not my cup of tea, thank you very much!”

“One of our travel reporters spent a week there last year ago!” Alan replied, looking surprised at the coincidence. “She had a great time, she said, but wouldn’t have wanted to spend more than a week there or she would have gone quietly insane. She said it gave her too much time to think!”

“I would have gone crazy in less than a day!” Jo said with a theatrical shudder. “I can’t stand being idle. Oh, here we are!”

As Fred pulled up to the kerb Jo was pleased to see Alan reach for his wallet. There was nothing she hated more than a tight-fisted man, unless he was using the tight fist to jerk her off. Smiling, she put her hand over his and prevented him opening the wallet. “I’ll get it.”

She intended to get more than her money’s worth out of him later. It had been ages since she’d gotten her hands on a ‘virgin’.

He stood back awkwardly as she went to the front to give Fred two folded ten-pound notes and a goodnight kiss on the cheek. Fred slipped the notes into his pocket and warned, “Be careful now,” before driving away.

Jo felt her cock stir as she turned around and looked at Alan standing nervously holding his laptop case. Closing the gap between them and taking his free hand in hers, she promised, “Relax, I’m not going to bite you…too hard.”

Alan laughed and tightened his fingers around hers as they strode to the entry door of the four-storey, eight flat building. Jo sometimes wished there was a lift to her second floor flat, but tonight she was glad that using the stairs gave Alan a view of her shapely ass as she mounted the steps ahead of him. She was rather proud of her back view but too few men took the time to appreciate it. They were usually too busy checking out her curly dark hair, her slanting brown eyes, her small nose and full lips. Her features puzzled most people until she explained that her mother was Jamaican and her father Chinese. Then they wanted to know more about the unusual pairing—it was usually a Black man and a Chinese woman, except perhaps decades ago when the trend was popular in the USA when there were fewer Chinese women than men there.

Jo’s parents were very unusual. If they weren’t married, she would have thought that her father was gay and her mother a lesbian. Her mother, a sculptor, was an inch shorter than her father at five foot five and definitely wore the trousers in the relationship. She looked Grace Jones with her cropped hair, and high cheekbones and full lips which Jo had inherited. She worked out regularly and had the kind of physique some men would give their eye teeth for. Jo’s father, a portrait artist, was slender, more pretty than handsome and wore his shoulder-length hair in a glossy ponytail. The two of them made a striking couple and had created an equally striking child.

If Jo had been born a woman she would have graced the covers of top fashion magazines. She had done some modelling in her late teens, but had been fired after a few of the female models had objected to her sharing their dressing room at a fashion show. She hadn’t been interested in the models, not really, but so much naked flesh and lovely pert breasts on display had given her strange stirrings in her nether regions. One model had spotted Jo’s hardening cock and had screamed as though it had been a snake. Jo was quite sure that the skinny bitch had seen one before, but since there had also been three under-sixteen models in the same show, the designer had had no choice but to fire Jo and her unruly teenage hormones.

***

“Right, take off your suit and I’ll put it on a hanger so it doesn’t get creased,” Jo instructed as she opened her front door, turned on the light and punched in the security code into the alarm panel simultaneously. “I haven’t had a fuck in ages, so I don’t want to beat around the bush.”

By the time she had nipped into her bedroom for a wooden suit hanger Alan had obediently slipped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. As soon as he had unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them Jo draped the suit over the hanger and hooked it onto her coat rack.

Alan wasn’t one of those men who looked sexy in shirttails and socks. His pasty legs looked as though they had never seen the sun and were only lightly covered with fine dark hair. Jo preferred rugged, hairy alpha males, but every now and then it was nice to get hold of a beta and have her wicked way with him.

She smiled as she moved her waist-length hair off her nape and turned for him to unzip her. She could have done it herself, but she liked being unwrapped by a man like a gift. As the dress slithered to the floor, Alan surprised her by wrapping his right arm around her waist and pulling her back against him as he reached his left hand down to stroke her hard cock.

“I can’t wait to suck on this,” he groaned, burying his lips against her neck and covering it with tiny love bites as he humped himself against her.

Jo laughed. He was a rather eager ‘virgin’. It looked like he was going to be more fun than she’d anticipated.

“Then why wait?” Turning around Jo met his lips as she moved backwards until she felt the edge of the sofa against her calves.

Without breaking the kiss, she lowered herself onto the cool leather and pulled Alan down to his knees in front of her.

His eyes darkened to gunmetal as he stroked her through her black man-thongs. They weren’t as sexy as some of the others in her lingerie collection, but for comfort and dependability they were hard to beat. Older and less a slave to fashion than in her youth she now acknowledged that she needed to wear something more substantial than a scrap of lace or silk, if she didn’t want to be constantly running to the ladies on a night out, to slip her spilled cock and balls back into her panties.

Alan reached under the soft stretch cotton and Jo groaned appreciatively as his warm, slightly calloused hands closed around her cock. He brought it out into the open and it reared between them as he let it go to sit back and admire it for a moment.

“You’re so built,” he said as he clasped it once again.

He caught Jo’s gaze briefly before he moistened his lips, lowered his head and took the tip between his lips.

It was only then he seemed to realize that he was still wearing his glasses. As he reached up to take them off, Jo stopped him. “Leave them on, so that you can see what you’re doing. I like the idea of getting head from a guy with glasses.”

Alan quickly wet his lips again and got back to business, taking more than half the length of Jo’s cock into his mouth. Jo sat back, propped up on her elbows, and watched him. This wasn’t going to be a deep-throat session, she accepted, as Alan moved back up to the tip and ran his tongue over the head of her cock, but he was doing better than any of her first timers.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” she asked as he sucked one of her balls into his mouth.

“I watch a lot of porn,” Alan admitted as he gave her balls one last lick and then wet two fingers in his mouth.

Jo tilted herself upwards as he circled her asshole with the fingers teasingly before sliding them inside her. He must watch some quality porn, she thought. He knew exactly what to do.

“You like that tight ass, don’t you?” Jo asked him as he started to work his fingers in and out of her with enthusiasm. “I might let you have some of it later, but for now get back to sucking on my cock. Let’s see if you’ll like your first taste of cum.”

Alan kept his fingers buried inside her as he slowly ran his tongue up the length of her cock, starting at the base. She caught his dilated gaze again before he lowered his head and took her into his mouth. The man was seriously enjoying giving her head!

“That’s deep enough for a start,” she warned and cupped his ears to stop him as he made as if to deep throat her. She wasn’t into men vomiting over her. But even if she was, she wouldn’t have it done at her pristine flat when she would be the one to clean up the mess after them. “Take it slowly for now. In a couple of months you will be sucking cock like a pro.”

Alan kept slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of her ass as he gave her head, and soon he found a rhythm that had Jo groaning and clutching the cushions. When she lifted her hips off the chair and started to frantically fuck Alan’s mouth, he relaxed and let her have her way. Seconds later, he got his promised first taste of cum and seem to like it very much, swallowing what he managed to catch and scooping up stray drops with his fingers and licking them off enthusiastically.

“Did I say a couple of months?” Jo asked lifting her head to smile at him. “You’re going to make an excellent cock sucker in less than a week at this rate.”

Alan flushed with pleasure at her compliment as he stood up and took off his shirt and glasses.

“Now, let me have a look at you,” Jo sat up and hauled him closer. She pulled his cock through the fly of his boxers and groaned inwardly in disappointment. It was smaller than hers. She had hoped that he would be one of those lanky men with thick cocks to their knees. She had been so looking forward to having her ass crammed to overflowing with hard cock.

Oh well, she thought as she took him into her mouth, at least she could look forward to some ass cherry later.

“Fuck! You’re good,” Alan gasped as she expertly swallowed him minutes later.

Jo didn’t stop to thank him for his kind words. She was already hard thinking about his little virgin asshole. There was no time to waste on pleasantries.

***

“Relax for me again,” Jo instructed as she held herself still and waited until Alan obeyed her request before rotating her hips and getting a further half an inch inside him. She was glad that she had come earlier and taken the edge off. She now had the patience to enjoy Alan’s slow initiation into the ass-fucking community.

Alan wasn’t as tight as he was nervous. He kept clenching his asshole and impeding Jo’s progress. She didn’t want to tear anything and put him off because she was rather enjoying his moans and groans and wanted to have another go at his tight ass before she made him breakfast and sent him on his merry way in the morning.

She had decided not to let him fuck her. Later in the day, after a good rest and a long soak surrounded by scented candles and music from her iPod deck, she would get into bed with Willy, her dildo. It was a monster and aptly named after the owner of The Pink Panther, Emmanuel Foxton, who had given Jo her first taste of big cock, and had hooked her ever since. There were times she needed to be filled deeply and satisfyingly, the way only he had filled her and this was one of those occasions. Emmanuel had fucked around, had fucked both Jo and her best friend Ricki one after the other or in tandem on occasion, but he had been tamed by a pretty man-boy, Nathan and was now totally committed to the young man who was his fantasy come true. The nearest Jo got to Emmanuel’s cock now was Willy, the dildo.

Comments are closed.