Every Few Months I Go Into Heat, and I’m a Transvestite

It happens to me every three or four months, more or less. All at once I leave my normal, routine days behind and slip into something else. I feel strange, turned on, as if a fever were rising inside me and didn’t want to go down. It lasts a week, sometimes five days if I want to be exact, and all that time desire rules me.

I’m a transvestite, and I often think my own body programmed this cycle, or nature decided it for me. I don’t have a scientific explanation, and I’m not looking for one either. I just know it comes, it takes hold of me completely, and I learned to call it my heat week. I wanted to tell it exactly as I live it, without embellishment.

During those days I wake up already aroused. The waves of heat hit me especially after lunch and after dinner, I get ravenously hungry and I have to drink a lot of liquid. At night I can hardly sleep because my head fills with a single image: a hard cock and someone fucking me slowly and deeply.

I sweat more than usual, I’m hot from the moment I open my eyes, and I end up putting in a plug to calm my urges a little while I go about my life. I walk around the house with that inside me, pretending to be normal, and underneath I’m a filthy slut all damn day.

The last time this state hit me, it started on an ordinary morning. I woke up with a different heat between my legs and felt an enormous urge to strip completely naked and stay in bed a little longer, exploring myself. My cock was wet and half-hard, my thighs a bit sticky, and my nipples so hard it hurt not to touch them.

I stretched out long on the sheets, rolled over, and lay face down. I lifted my ass and pointed it toward the wardrobe mirror, which I have right across from the bed for a very similar reason. I spread my cheeks with both hands to get a good look, and then a long, loud fart slipped out of me.

I know it sounds vulgar, but to me it was a crystal-clear sign: my hole was screaming for attention. I watched it open and close almost on its own, without me forcing anything. It wasn’t tight like usual. It took shape as a round, perfect opening, neither too big nor too small, pulsing with a life of its own.

It’s started again.

I stayed like that for a while, staring at myself in the mirror, hypnotized by my own body. I badly wanted to suck a cock. In my head only thick, dark, veiny, huge dicks kept appearing, along with a bunch of hands groping me without mercy. The fantasy carried me away by itself, without me having to try at all.

Meanwhile I kept writhing on the bed, rubbing my nipples frantically. It gave me a pleasure that ran through me completely, and I needed someone to suck them, tug them with their teeth, bite them without mercy. My ass would not stop throbbing, as if it had a heart of its own.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I brought two fingers to my mouth, coated them with saliva, and shoved them in with one push. I didn’t have to force anything. I was wet inside, soft, almost rubbery, and the fingers slid all the way in as if the hole had swallowed them on its own.

The craziest part came when I tried to pull them out: it wouldn’t let me. It closed around my fingers and sucked them inward, like a little volcano that didn’t want to release its prey. Seeing myself do that in the mirror turned me on even more. I felt like a whore, a hungry sissy, and I loved the feeling.

I also noticed my cock was dripping a lot more than usual. It was transparent liquid, thick, stretching into a thread every time I moved. Obviously I didn’t waste a drop. I gathered what I could with my other hand and brought it to my mouth, and it tasted good, salty, mine.

I started panting with my mouth open and my tongue out, like a bitch in heat. A choked cry escaped me against the pillow.

—I need a cock —I said, almost voiceless—. I want a cock now.

But there was nobody there. It was just me, my bed, the mirror, and a need that kept growing. So I became my own lover, which is what I know best how to do on these fever days.

I spent about two hours pounding myself hard with two fingers. Little by little the rhythm turned brutal, a wet, in-and-out that sounded slick in the silence of the room. I slid in a third finger and my ass took it gratefully, opening a little more, asking for more. The heat was unbearable, no exaggeration, I felt like I was burning inside.

My cock was demanding its due. I started jerking it with my right hand without stopping penetrating myself with my left, both things at once, uncoordinated and desperate. I knew exactly what I wanted and exactly how I wanted it.

I bent over the bed until my cock was pointing at my own face. In this state I need to swallow, coming isn’t enough for me. I stayed like that a good while, gasping, until I got there. About six spurts came in a row and splashed onto my tongue and cheeks, hot, and I took them with my eyes closed.

At the exact moment of the orgasm, the hole tightened around my fingers like a suction machine. I finished with four fingers inside, trembling all over, not quite sure whether that was the end or only the beginning. Spoiler: it was only the beginning.

***

I lay there a long while, catching my breath, breathing in ragged little bursts and wearing a silly smile. Then I dragged myself to the shower thinking that was it, that I’d gotten the urges out of my system. Wrong.

Under the hot water I felt that need to rub my nipples again, my little lemons, as I affectionately call them. I pinched them under the stream and my whole skin prickled. That’s when I understood it was going to be a very long week, that the appetite had only just started and wasn’t going to be calmed by a single orgasm.

That’s the particular thing about my heat: it isn’t just my ass. Normally all my pleasure goes through there, but on these days my cock wakes up too and demands attention. It’s not that I stop wanting to be penetrated, quite the opposite. I need both things with the same intensity, at the same time, without choosing.

When it hits me like that, I have no choice but to look for an available man or resort to whatever toys I have on hand. And I have several. Fever days are the only ones when I take out the thickest dildos, the ones that the rest of the month seem like too much, and take them as if nothing.

Anal beads are my weakness during these periods. Normally I put in about five and I already feel full. But when I’m in heat I swallow up to ten, one after another, and I feel them going down and settling in, and then the pleasure of pulling them out slowly, one by one, is almost better than putting them in.

That first afternoon I spent the whole time between the bed and the bathroom, alternating toys, fantasizing about men who don’t exist and others who do, texting one contact or another to see if anyone would show up. I ate whatever in the kitchen standing up, drank liters of water, and locked myself back in. I couldn’t think about anything except fucking.

The funny thing is, outside nobody notices a thing. I go to work, I greet the neighbors, I answer messages normally, and beneath all that façade there’s a body burning and a plug reminding me of my secret with every step. I like that contrast, truthfully. It turns me on to keep something so filthy behind a polite smile.

By nightfall I had already come three times and was still horny. I went to bed late, exhausted, my body only half satisfied, knowing I’d wake up just as turned on the next day. And that’s how it was, every morning that week, until the fever went down on its own, as it always does.

***

I’m not telling all this to scandalize anyone. I’m telling it because I know I’m not the only one who lives desire this intensely, in waves, like a tide that rises and sweeps everything away. Maybe someone who reads this will recognize themselves, and that already seems reason enough to write it.

There are those who would be ashamed to admit that an entire week can revolve around sex, around one’s own body, toys, and fantasies. Not me. I learned to look forward to these days, to have everything ready, to give myself permission to be exactly what I want to be when the fever comes.

Later on, in another installment, I’m going to tell you about other little things that happen to me during these periods, because I get up to a lot of mischief and it all won’t fit in a single story. For now I’ll leave you with this, just as I live it. A huge kiss and until next time. Muac!